Scarlett had no sense of self-preservation as she drove like a madwoman down the highway back toward Mason Industries. It was a miracle she wasn't pulled over as she'd gone at least thirty over the recommended speed limit.

Her bike screeched to a halt as she pulled right up to the front door. Although she normally wouldn't let anyone aside from herself handle her bike, she tossed her keys to the doorman and stormed past straight toward the labs where she had no doubt her father would be.

As she neared, nowhere close to subtly, Mason looked up a bit concerned but mostly frustrated. "Scarlett, there you are! I've been trying to call you for the last half hour."

"Where is he?" Scarlett asked accusingly. "What did you do to him?"

"Who?" Mason asked in confusion while taking a step back in self-preservation.

"Who?" Scarlett repeated the question incredulously. "Carlos, that's who. What the hell did you do to my fiancé!"

"Fiancé?" Mason question even more confused than before. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on!" Scarlett scoffed. "I know you never liked him. You made it abundantly clear from the first time you'd met him that you didn't like him."

Mason's brow furrowed with concern and he cautiously braced his daughter by the arms. "Scarlett, I've never met this Carlos. I have no idea who you're talking about, and frankly if this is some way of you getting back at me for bringing you back—"

"What's going on?" Rufus asked, interrupting Mason as he turned the corner from the next room over.

"Carlos's stuff is gone from the apartment," Scarlett replied and thrust and accusing look toward her father. "And dad claims he had nothing to do with it."

A solemn look of sympathy crossed Rufus's face. He hesitated but motioned for her to follow him. "You might want to hear this..."

Scarlett kept quiet as she followed after Rufus with a skeptical look, but managed to overhear the conversation that he'd briefly left to check on the argument next door.

"Gone?" Wyatt asked in confusion, facing Lucy. "Gone where?"

"Gone as in erased from history." Lucy was practically in hysterics as she explained. "Something that Flynn did or we did to the Hindenburg has changed my family. My mother isn't sick anymore, and my sister was never born."

"Lucy, we have a dossier on you," Agent Christopher contradicted, "and it doesn't say anything about a sister."

Lucy frantically tried to open the locket around her neck, clumsily unclasping it to reveal a photo of her sister. "Look, this is her right here."

"You wore this on the trip back to 1937?" Mason asked as he joined the group. An excited look crossed his face. "That is incredible. You took it from a timeline where your sister existed, carried it here, to where she doesn't."

"Wait, wait, wait," Scarlett held out her hands to ground herself as she slowly came to the realization of what Rufus wanted her to understand. She took a few deep breaths before finally looking up from the ground at both Rufus and her father, searching for answers. "What are you saying? You're saying that Carlos—Carlos is just gone—like he never existed?"

"It's starting to appear that way," Mason agreed with a nod of his head, failing to conceal the mumbling under his breath that followed, "It's entirely fascinating..."

"I do not share your excitement, Mr. Mason." Lucy shook her head. "Whatever changed, you have to change back. Change it back!"

"I'm sorry, Lucy," Agent Christopher apologized, "but Flynn is hours ahead of us. We don't have time for this."

"Why not?" Lucy asked incredulously. "We have a time machine, don't we?"

"Flynn could be decimating history right now," Agent Christopher tried to set the group's priorities back on track. "Our reality could change like that any second. You need to go."

"Not until we figure this out." Scarlett set her foot down. Lucy offered her a look of appreciation, but the statement had been made for more selfish reasons. Carlos was her future, so what was the point of saving the past if he wouldn't be there when she got back.

Mason took a step forward. "Scarlett—"

"Hey," Wyatt interrupted and stepped between his team and Mason. "You dragged them into all this. Lucy just lost her sister and Scarlett just lost her fiancé. Give them a damn minute."

Mason and Wyatt stood in a stand-off of eye contact, but Mason eventually looked away then walked away as if he had something more important to do at the computers.

Lucy turned her appreciative look toward Wyatt who nodded as if to wave away the sentiment, but it was clear he understood the feeling of loss that clutched their hearts.

Rufus and Lucy left the room to change, leaving Wyatt and Scarlett behind. She turned toward him and although hesitant, elected to voice her appreciation. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

A look of surprise crossed her face. "I'm going to get him back."

Wyatt gently nodded his head. "That doesn't invalidate the way you're feeling right now."

A soft smile crossed her face and she chuckled as she looked down toward the ground. "I didn't take you for the sentimental type, soldier."

"Not usually," Wyatt agreed, "but..."

"I get it," Scarlett nodded her head. "I overheard a bit in the cells before we crashed the Hindenburg."

Wyatt nodded his head and didn't really say much else until he sniffed to clear the air and looked around. "I guess we should go change, I doubt wherever we're headed the fashion is so advanced."

Scarlett snickered in agreement. "Probably true... you think they'll give me a gun this time?"

Wyatt laughed. "Yeah, not in this lifetime or another."

Scarlett frowned and crossed her arms. "Haven't I proven myself capable of carrying?"

"Lucky shot," Wyatt contradicted. "Now let's go before Flynn changes anything else."

Once the group rendezvoused back near the landing pad, Agent Christopher stepped forward and began to debrief the team on everything she understood about their next assignment. "Flynn went back to April 14, 1865. Now, you need to get moving, and you need to eliminate Garcia Flynn. Are we clear?"

"Yeah." Lucy nodded, clearly on the verge of breaking down. "Yeah, okay."

"Wait, what's April 14, 1865?" Wyatt asked.

"The assassination of Abraham Lincoln," Lucy explained and began to go on a short tangent about the date.

From the side, Jiya hissed and motioned for Scarlett to step closer. Cautiously, she listened and Jiya presented an offer she couldn't refuse. "Hey, I offered to try and help Lucy figure out what happened to her sister. I can try and do the same for your fiancé, if you want."

"You can really do that?" Scarlett questioned.

Jiya nodded. "Something happened on the Hindenburg that affected him personally somehow. I can look for a connection, you know, try to see what changed. Tell me his name, birthdate, heritage, anything that can help."

A look of relief washed over her face and Scarlett immediately obliged to share the information she knew. Seconds later, she was inside the Lifeboat once more on another dangerous journey back to the past.

——— • — 𖥸 — • ———

"Tell me this gets easier," Wyatt groaned as he tried to reorient himself and regain his balance as he climbed out of the Lifeboat.

"It doesn't," Rufus replied as he followed after him.

"Hey," Scarlett cheered, already on the ground beside Lucy, "You're not as green this time."

Wyatt shot her an amused look followed by a sarcastic eye-roll before he took another deep breath. His attention was quickly drawn away from the group toward the sound of popping and whistling from the sky that accompanied the music coming from the city ahead. "What's all that?

"The Civil War just ended," Lucy explained as she started to lead the group away from the Lifeboat and toward the city, "They're celebrating."

The noise and bright lights only grew stronger in the heart of the city. Despite trying to remain upset, Scarlett couldn't help but gasp in awe at the past around her. It was all so surreal and yet she could reach out and touch anything to remind herself she wasn't dreaming.

Rufus quietly whistled under his breath as a group of soldiers walked by. The decorated uniforms stood out from most of the other plain colors of the civilian clothing, especially since the soldiers themselves were dark-skinned. "Check out that swagger."

"The Civil War just ended." Lucy smiled as she explained; however that smile faltered toward the end of her sentence. "Slavery's outlawed. African-Americans thought their future was bright which pretty much ends tonight when Lincoln's shot."

"So what do you think Flynn is up to?" Wyatt asked, checking their shoulders every other minute as if they were being watched.

"He's got to be here to change the assassination," Lucy replied.

"How?" Scarlett asked skeptically. "I mean he can't do much worse than killing the president, right?"

Lucy shrugged. "I don't know. But I do know exactly where John Wilkes Booth's going to be, so we start there. Best guess, he takes us to Flynn."

"And that's being optimistic," Scarlett agreed. "Luck doesn't seem to be on our side... and that's a conclusion I've come to after just one trip with you people."

"Not exactly the encouragement I want to hear," Rufus shot her a look, but it was clear from the way that his eyes shifted nervously back and forth, that he was less than thrilled to be back at a time where respect would be slim.

Scarlett offered him an apologetic look, but just as quickly changed the conversation. "So where exactly are we heading?"

"Ford's Theatre," Lucy replied, gesturing to the large building just down the street. "Booth arrives at 10:00 a.m. this morning."

"So Booth walks into Ford's Theatre at exactly 10:00 a.m, huh?" Wyatt asked, skeptically raising his brow. "Not 9:56, 10:07?"

"Hundreds of books have been written about Booth's movements today," Lucy replied.

"Let me guess," Wyatt added as if trying to make a point, "You read them all."

Lucy nodded, ignoring the demeaning tone of his question. "And wrote one of them."

"So why is Booth coming here now?" Rufus asked. "What, is he scouting for tonight?"

"No, he's an actor," Lucy shook her head as she contradicted him. "He knew Ford's Theatre like the back of his hand, used it as his mailing address, picks up his mail at exactly 10:00 a.m."

Wyatt looked surprised. "An actor."

"Pretty well known too," Lucy nodded as she continued her history lesson. "But his brother, Edwin, was literally the most famous actor in America. John never quite measured up."

"I can't imagine what that's like," Scarlett muttered under her breath as she glanced over at Rufus. She'd never admit it out loud, but she was a tad jealous of the bond Rufus and her father had, especially of late. It wasn't hard to notice that Mason had pulled Rufus aside to speak to him privately about matters he clearly didn't trust Scarlett with.

"So this is like if Donnie Wahlberg assassinated the president?" Rufus asked.

Lucy nodded her head as she considered the prospect. "Pretty much, actually."

"Come on," Wyatt motioned for Lucy to follow as he opened the door to the theater. He didn't audibly say anything, but Scarlett and Rufus both understood that they'd remain outside. "Hey, keep an eye out, huh? If you find Booth or Flynn, come get us fast. Let's go."

Scarlett and Rufus wandered across the street as not to appear like they were loitering. People were skeptical enough as if was, they didn't need to add to their theories. However, they both quickly became lost in their own thoughts and anxieties, staring off into the distance.

It wasn't until they were approached by a groups of soldiers that Scarlett snapped out of her thoughts about Carlos, and nudged Rufus to similarly wake up.

"You all right there, Sergeant?" The soldier at the front of the group asked.

"Yes, I am." Rufus nervously cleared his throat. "A sergeant. And just fine."

Scarlett had to mentally withhold facepalming herself at Rufus's poor ability to improvise.

The soldier didn't seem to think much of the awkward introduction. "What's your name?"

"Um," Rufus frantically sought a name, "Denzel Washington."

'Denzel Washington... seriously?' she mouthed.

'Shut up,' he mouthed in return before placing a false smile back on his face.

"Who's your lady friend?" One of the other soldiers, whose face remained hidden toward the back of the group asked, but by his tone it was clear he was interested in more than just her name.

"Michelle Yeoh," Scarlett introduced herself, ignoring the incredulous look she received from Rufus for the hypocritical stunt she just pulled.

"Pleasure," the original soldier smiled as he introduced himself. "I'm Nicholas. Whereabouts you from?"

"Chicago," Rufus replied without hesitation.

Nicholas looked surprised. "Oh. You was free when you signed up. You got kin or young folk still in bondage?"

"No," Rufus answered in half-truths, "my family was all born free."

"So you read and write good, huh?" Nicholas asked.

Rufus nodded his head, chuckling under his breath as he knowingly looked at Scarlett. "Pretty good, yeah."

Nicholas laughed as well then referred to Rufus's faux uniform. "That's how you got them stripes. Hey, boys, get on over here. Old Denzel's gonna write our notices for us. We need you to write something for the newspaper. You go ahead and start with mine."

Worry flashed across Rufus's face and he shook his head, "I—I can't write that."

"The Colored Tennessean prints them free," Nicholas replied as if that was the problem. "Uh, Nicholas Biddle, 2nd Regiment, Colored Infantry." Nicholas paused and chuckled. "That's me. Nicholas Biddle of the 2nd Regiment, Colored Infantry, wishes to learn the whereabouts of his wife and four children. The children are Selia, Sarah, Elizabeth, and Adam Lee. My wife's Anne, and the last I seen her was in a sale pen of a human trader named Robert Clark, Atlanta."

A somber look crossed Rufus's face, and his hand stopped writing, but Scarlett gently nudged him to get back on task. The sooner they could send these soldiers on their way, the better for their own cover.

"So what are you gonna do once you find your family?" Rufus asked, handing the paper and pencil back once he finished.

"I'm gonna work me a piece of my old master's land," Nicholas replied.

Rufus's brow furrowed in confusion. "You think the man who owned you is just gonna give you his land?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No, I think President Lincoln's gonna make him."

"It's all smooth sailing from here on out." Rufus directed his gaze toward the ground.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nicholas asked in confusion.

"Uh, I'm sorry. Nothing." Rufus cleared his throat to cover for the look of alarm that flashed across his face once more. "I didn't—ahem—I didn't mean anything."

A suspicious look slowly formed on Nicholas's face. "What regiment you in?"

"Uh, the fourth," Rufus replied then quickly added, "Colored."

Nicholas's skepticism remained. "Hmm."

"Infantry," Rufus added yet again and Scarlett genuinely wished he'd just shut up, but she knew better than to add input in a conversation that she didn't really belong butting into.

"Fourth Colored," Nicholas repeated. "Yeah, I never, uh, never heard of it. Whereabouts y'all fight?"

"We fought all over," Rufus tried to say as convincing as possible while remaining vague.

"See, this ain't no real uniform," Nicholas poked at the costume. "You pretending to be a solider, huh? After what we went through? Why, so you can get you a girl?" Nicholas accusingly cast a look toward Scarlett, whose hand Rufus had just taken and began to pull away from the group. "Look like some big hero? Yeah, go on, you lying rat!"

"Well that went well," Scarlett muttered under her breath.

"We really need a new costume department," Rufus similarly muttered, casting one last glance over his shoulder back at the group of soldiers.

"Agreed," Scarlett nodded her head and continued to pull Rufus along. "Let's just meet up with the others before you get us into some other kind of trouble."

Finding Wyatt and Lucy took longer than Scarlett had thought it would, but switching stories quickly so that they were all on the same page made up for it.

"So we're a thousand percent sure we can't just shoot this asshat, save Lincoln here and now?" Rufus asked.

"Believe me, I want to." Lucy offered a sympathetic look and sighed. "It might change things too much."

"Like maybe there'll be a lot less lynchings," Rufus retorted. Lucy sighed, but Rufus tried to insist, "I'm serious. I'm serious. I just met some black soldiers. We know Lincoln's death It's gonna be a disaster for them, not to mention my great-great-grandparents."

Lucy looked toward Wyatt for help but he shook his head. "Don't look at me. I'm with him."

Lucy sighed again. "Look, I understand, but we don't know the consequences. It's too risky. It's our job to protect history."

"Yeah, rich white guys' history," Rufus retorted. "A lot of my history sucks. Look, I know it seems crazy, but maybe we can change things for the better."

He turned his head and looked toward Scarlett for support; however, she averted her gaze and gently shook her head. "We've taken one trip to the past and already altered the future in the process... besides, changing things to be the way we want makes us no different than Flynn."

"Oh, so you're just planning to live the rest of your life without Carlos?" Rufus questioned.

Scarlett gaped. "That's not fair."

"Psst!" Wyatt hissed to get their attention as he'd moved ahead of the group.

A look of recognition crossed Lucy's face. "This is the Herndon House, where Booth meets with his conspirators."

"What conspirators?" Wyatt raised his brow in confusion.

As if to answer his question, gunfire rained down on them and they hardly had time to dive behind the crates within the alleyway.

"Wyatt, give me a gun!" Scarlett hissed and extended a hand.

"I've only got the one," Wyatt retorted, "And I'm sure as hell not giving it to you... Alright when I shoot, you run. Stay low. Don't stop for anything!"

"But what about you?" Lucy asked, her eyes widening in terror.

Bullets continued to ricochet around them only enforcing Wyatt's decision. "I'm right behind you. Go! Go!"

Wyatt popped up over the crates and begin to fire several shots in the direction of Flynn's men and the other conspirators. Several screams could be heard as Lucy, Scarlett, and Rufus sprinted from the alley. Although Scarlett listened, that didn't mean she wouldn't be bitter about it for the rest of the evening.

As Wyatt caught up and joined them, his hand was pressed against his shoulder. His fingers slipped for just a second, revealing that he was keeping pressure against a severe wound.

"What happened?" Lucy asked in alarm.

"Nothing," Wyatt replied, but it was clear he was trying to mask his pain, "Come on! Go!"

"You were shot!" Scarlett blurted out the obvious.

"Yeah, sure," Wyatt agreed, nodding with his head for them to keep moving. "Come on!"

Scarlett huffed but continued to run until she noticed they weren't being followed. She waved her hands to get the others' attention. "We're clear."

"Highly unlikely," Wyatt retorted.

"Would you stop being so stubborn?" Scarlett rhetorically asked, throwing her arms in the air with frustration. "You're hurt and we need to get it taken care of before it starts to get infected."

"I'll be fine until we find a place to lie low," Wyatt insisted, but he failed to hide the way his face twisted with discomfort.

"Uh huh," Scarlett crossed her arms. "Rufus, go see if you can find some supplies from that convenience shop across the street. I think there's a hotel just a block down the road that we can use to lie low."

Wyatt looked about ready to protest, but Lucy nodded her head in agreement which permitted Rufus to leave. Wyatt sighed but took the lead as he walked down the street. However, his strength quickly faded and it wasn't long before Lucy and Scarlett were forced to move to his side to keep him upright.

As they arrived at the nearest hotel, Wyatt had started to look worse for wear. His brow was dotted in beads of sweat and he was much paler than before. The team wasn't the only one to notice this either.

The concierge looked at them with concern, but almost as if he wasn't considering saying anything at all. Unfortunately that wasn't the case. "Your brother looks to be at the fag end of things."

"Poor digestion's all," Lucy lied before paying the concierge for a room.

He nodded his head and ultimately decided that he didn't get paid enough to care about what went on in the rooms with paying customers. "I thank you very much, ma'am."

"Thank you," Lucy replied curtly before she and Scarlett led Wyatt up the stairs to their room.

As they laid Wyatt down on the bed, he groaned. "Oh! Where the hell is Rufus with the supplies?"

"You need a real doctor," Lucy again tried to insist as she'd done the entire walk over.

"To do what? Leech me?" Wyatt asked rhetorically before trying to pull back the cloth sticking to his wound. "Oh! Ah! Get this off me."

Lucy nodded in agreement and moved to his side to help. "Okay."

"Ah, ah," Wyatt winced in pain before leaning his head back to brace himself. "This would take 15 minutes to patch back home. Here, I'm gonna die of sepsis."

Scarlett was tempted to tell him to suck it up, but she held her tongue knowing it would only make matters worse. A few minutes passed and Rufus rushed into the room, slamming the door behind him in a panic before opening it again and closing it softer as if it would make a difference.

"You get it?" Lucy asked and Rufus raised the bag of supplies in reply. She nodded her head and took a step back. "Okay."

Wyatt eagerly nodded and tried to sit up, but immediately slumped back down as he hissed in pain. "Yeah. Oh! Rufus, you're up. My knife's in the pocket. You gotta sterilize it over the lamp."

"Um what?" Rufus's eyes widened in alarm.

"The bullet's still in there," Wyatt explained, "It's just under the skin, but you gotta take it out."

"Why me?" Rufus asked, growing more hysterical.

"I'll do it," Scarlett volunteered by raising her hand and took a step forward, "I'll gladly stab Wyatt."

Wyatt blinked and after a beat of silence turned back toward Rufus. "You work with your hands, Rufus."

"Yeah, on circuit boards," Rufus retorted.

"Think of me as a circuit board that's gonna die if you don't help," Wyatt emphasized his last few words which did little to help Rufus's confidence.

Lucy took another step back as Rufus seemed to plead that she take over. She shook her head. "Don't look at me. I faint."

Rufus sighed, but hung his head in defeat and began to sort through the supplies he'd bought. Once he had everything where he liked, Rufus began to sterilize the knife, holding it under the lamp.

To distract himself from his pain, Wyatt tried to continue the conversation with a groan, "So those weapons Flynn has. Why does he need that kind of firepower, huh? Lincoln gets killed anyway."

"I don't think it's just about Lincoln," Lucy admitted. "Lincoln's death was part of a much larger conspiracy to kill the four most powerful men in government in one fell swoop: Lincoln, Vice President Johnson, Secretary of State Seward, and General Grant. It would have been devastating, but the other shooters never followed through or just failed outright."

"Well, that's before they had semiautomatic weapons," Wyatt added.

"Exactly." Lucy nodded in agreement. "What if Flynn is trying to help them succeed? They would cripple the Union, maybe revive the Confederacy. Hell, Johnson and Grant are supposed to become presidents. America as we know it would be unrecognizable."

"Okay, so how do we stop all that?" Scarlett asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"One problem at a time," Lucy replied. "Grant takes a train out of town at 6:00. I need to make sure he's on it. You take care of Wyatt. We're gonna need you tonight."

"This is gonna be the worst game of Operation ever," Rufus warned Wyatt while also mentally preparing himself.

As Rufus brought the knife close to Wyatt's shoulder, the soldier thought it was a great time to play jokes. "Zzzzz!" Rufus immediately frowned, but Wyatt only laughed. "Go on."

Scarlett rolled her eyes and called after Lucy. "Hey, wait up!"

She knew there was no way she'd remain sane if she stayed locked up in the room. Besides, she couldn't just let Lucy walk out into the open without protection. As she jogged to catch up with the historian at the bottom of the stairs, she tucked Wyatt's handgun into her skirt. Had she swiped it while he was doubled over in pain on the street... yes, but that was besides the point. She'd need the weapon more than him should they run into Flynn or any of his men.

It didn't take long to arrive at the train station. But Scarlett was only snapped out of her own thoughts at the shrill sound of a whistle alongside heavy metal clanging against itself. Although she and Lucy had tried their hardest to blend in, they still easily managed to stick out in the crowd.

"Miss Shakesman?" A voice called out to them. Initially, Scarlett thought nothing of it, but when Lucy turned and addressed the man, she couldn't help but lift her brow.

Lucy smiled. "Mr. Lincoln."

"What are you doing here?" Robert Lincoln asked.

"Following you, it seems," Lucy joked.

Lincoln's smile was certainly genuine as he spoke to Lucy and Scarlett could easily see past the formalities to the ever-growing hearts in his eyes. "I'm a lucky man, then."

Lucy failed to notice though as turned her attention toward the motionless vehicle behind them. "What happened to the train?"

"Technically speaking, it broke," Lincoln replied.

"Oh," Lucy's expression turned sour with surprise. The conversation between the two continued, leaving Scarlett as nothing more than a surveyor in the background; however, movement off to her right caught her attention and she drifted in that general direction.

"We really have to stop meeting like this, Lu—" Flynn's tongue was caught in his throat and he froze as Scarlett whirled around.

"Expecting someone else?" Scarlett asked before pulling the gun from her waistband.

Flynn defensively lifted his hands and eyed her finger, ensuring he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. "The journal mentioned Lucy's presence at the station, it didn't say anything..."

"What journal?" Scarlett asked in confusion, interrupting his self-rationalizing.

As if to answer her question, Flynn pulled said journal from his coat pocket and began to sift through its pages for answers. "A second pilot is mentioned, but little information is actually given..."

"Hey," Scarlett tried to call for his attention. "I'm standing right here, and this second pilot has a name."

Flynn scoffed, closed the journal, and poked the leather-binding to emphasize each point. "This journal contains the secrets of the years to come. Now, Lucy—Lucy has given great thought into each entry and I can only assume that if you're not mentioned, then you aren't important."

"You son of a bitch. My fiancé is gone, disappeared because of something you did to the Hindenburg," Scarlett snapped, "So don't tell me about your self-righteous mission."

"It's war," Flynn countered, "I lost my whole family."

"Because you murdered them," Scarlett retorted.

"Rittenhouse murdered them," Flynn contradicted, seething under his breath.

"Lucy asked about Rittenhouse," Scarlett haughtily informed him, "and no one's ever heard of him."

Flynn scoffed at her ignorance. "Rittenhouse isn't a him. It's a they. And that's why I'm here: to right some wrongs."

"By trying to destroy America?" Scarlett asked trying to wrap her head around how that made sense in his.

Flynn shook his head. "I'm not trying to destroy America. I'm trying to save it! It says in these pages that Lucy will help me, that your team will help me."

"Yeah right," Scarlett rolled her eyes. "What kind of threat is that when I could simply solve the problem by pulling this trigger?"

"It's not a threat. It's our future," Flynn remarked. "So accept it, and stop trying to interfere."

"What the hell are you trying to do?" Scarlett asked. She took a step forward, pushing the end of the gun into Flynn's chest. There was something about that word Rittenhouse that filled her gut with unease, and something else told her that he knew more than he was letting on. "What does this have to do with Rittenhouse? Tell me!"

Flynn immediately gripped the gun and wrenched it from her grasp, holding the weapon up against her forehead. His eyes were dangerous as he left her with a warning before emptying the cartridge. "Don't get in my way again."

Flynn melted back into the crowd, leaving the discarded bullets and the gun on the ground. Scarlett's hand trembled and she sank to her knees, staring at the spot her opposition had once been. They'd each had the opportunity to do away with the other. She'd already shot him once, it couldn't be that hard to aim a little more central to finish the job... but her curiosity got the better of her along with that feeling of for just a split second she might actually belong somewhere.

The feeling had come out of nowhere and it had been awhile since she'd felt like a homeless orphan on the streets, but the darkness and insecurity had come rushing back with that three syllable word: Rittenhouse. Additionally, she could tell it wouldn't be the last time she'd hear the name.

——— • — 𖥸 — • ———

"Is it unsanitary if I throw up on you now?" Rufus asked, placing the knife down just as Lucy and Scarlett returned to the room.

Wyatt's brow raised as he noticed a package in Lucy's hands. "Um, you went shopping?"

Lucy nodded her head. "Robert Lincoln invited me to a play."

"A play?" Rufus questioned. "You mean the play?"

"General Grant's gonna be there tonight," Lucy explained.

"Flynn sabotaged his train," Scarlett added under her breath.

Wyatt shot up from the bed a bit too quickly and groaned as he laid back down, but the concern was still plastered to his face. "You saw Flynn."

The gun suddenly felt quite heavy tucked into her waistband and and without thinking, she lied, "I saw him leaving the train station."

Lucy cleared her throat to get them back on track. "The point is, Grant's gonna be there tonight, and I've gotta save him."

"How, exactly?" Wyatt questioned.

"I don't know," Lucy honestly admitted, "I'll, uh, get Grant out of the balcony before Booth shows up somehow."

"I'm pretty sure we can come up with a better plan than that," Wyatt retorted.

However, Lucy had made up her mind. Quickly, she drew a pair of guns that matched the time period from her purse and laid them on the bed. "Will these help?"

"Sweet," Scarlett grinned and reached for one, but Wyatt held out a hand to stop her.

"Not so fast, Trigger," Wyatt shook his head, "What, you didn't think I'd notice that you'd hidden mine in your waistband? I'm a soldier trained to notice things like that. What did you plan to do? Finish Flynn yourself?"

"If I had a clear shot, yeah," Scarlett agreed and crossed her arms. "I've hit him once and that's the closest that any of us have come to actually doing our job."

Rufus had been silent for some time, eyeing the guns on the bed without picking them up. It was clear he had no desire to touch the weapon especially after seeing what it had done to one of their own. He sighed. "And I assume with all that, we're gonna save everybody but Lincoln?"

A somber tone filled the room as the argument between Wyatt and Scarlett stopped. Suddenly there was a division in the room: Rufus and Wyatt versus Lucy and Scarlett.

Lucy attempted to persuade them with reason, "Rufus—"

Rufus shook his head. "All you have to do is open your mouth to save him. And you're just gonna let Booth shoot him in the head?"

"Do you think any of this is easy for me?" Lucy asked, her tone raising in response. "My whole life, I've idolized Lincoln. When I was a little girl, I would memorize his speeches."

"Well, then do something," Rufus retorted as if it were that simple.

"We would come back to an entirely different world," Lucy explained, "Who knows if it would be better or if there would be anything left to come back to at all? The present isn't perfect, but it's ours. Awful as it is, what happens to Lincoln is meant to be."

"Exactly," Scarlett agreed with a nod of her head before adding a more scientific approach that Rufus would understand and just maybe listen to, "We might even create a time paradox. Imagine we change things here and now and suddenly Mason no longer has a reason to create the Time Machine, or no longer exists. We've seen that's not too out-of-question."

"What about my wife?" Wyatt interjected. "'Cause by your logic, you're saying that bad things like my wife's death are meant to be. You wouldn't use the time machine to save her either?" Lucy and Scarlett averted their gaze. Wyatt scoffed. "Wow. You are saying that. So your sister is supposed to live, and my wife is supposed to die. Is that it?"

"That's not fair," Lucy protested.

"And you," Wyatt frowned as he turned toward Scarlett, "you're the closest that understands and now you're just gonna stab me in the back after I stood up for you?"

Scarlett closed her eyes and sighed. "Yeah I get it. It sucks not knowing what happened. It sucks so hard and we can't change it because it might make things even worse. So would I bring him back if given the chance... right now I'm not so sure because maybe never existing is better than existing in a broken world."

Wyatt's frown deepened and he shook his head, looking back up toward Lucy. "You just lost your sister, and you're gonna sit next to Robert Lincoln and let him lose his father?"

Lucy opened her mouth to defend her actions, but a knock on the door interrupted the argument. The concierge's voice echoed from the other side, "Mr. Robert Todd Lincoln downstairs for Miss Shakesman."

"I'll be down in a minute," Lucy called then looked back toward the guys with concern. "You'll save Secretary of State Seward? And you'll save Vice President Johnson?"

"Yeah, we got it," Wyatt bitterly agreed

"Lucy," Rufus challenged, "just think about who you save."

A look of chagrin crossed Lucy's face as she entered the other room to change. A moment later, she emerged and left without another word. Scarlett wanted to call after her, to tell her that she was doing the right thing, but she remained silent as the door closed.

Rufus sighed, twisting the unloaded gun in his hands. "So all I got to do is save the vice president of the United States. Sure, no probs."

Wyatt chuckled. "Relax. This Atzerodt guy shows his face, just point him out to the vice president's bodyguards. They'll do the rest. The gun's just in case."

"What if I freeze?" Rufus asked with genuine concern.

"You won't," Wyatt answered as if that should be convincing enough. It was clear Rufus remained uncomfortable.

"I, um," Rufus cleared his throat, "I grew up on the west side of Chicago, and there was a there was this kid, Rich Tannen, who used to come after me. But I wouldn't fight."

"There was no flight either," Wyatt noted based on the way Rufus looked away.

"I just stood there," Rufus agreed. "It was biological. Then he just beat the crap out of me."

"Rufus I don't know you that well," Wyatt groaned again as he sat up slower than before. "But in the last two days, you helped us break out of jail. You held a knife to a Nazi's throat. And you pulled a bullet out of my gut without puking. You won't freeze."

"I'm scared," Rufus quietly admitted.

A soft smile pulled at the corners of Wyatt's mouth. "I wouldn't go into battle with you if you weren't."

Scarlett and Rufus both glanced in the same direction at the same time as if conveying to the other the exact same thought. Wyatt tilted his head and a puzzled look crossed his face.

He frowned and crossed his arms, but winced at the strain placed on the makeshift stitch job. "What?"

"There is absolutely no way you're leaving this room tonight," Scarlett replied, crossing her arms to stand her ground. "You can hardly sit up without whining."

"I was shot—"

"My point exactly," Scarlett interjected in the middle of his protest.

"—I'm not dying."

Rufus sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head. "Wyatt..."

Wyatt huffed and rolled his eyes. "Fine, I get it." His hard expression softened for but a moment. "Just be safe."

"It'll be fine," Scarlett shrugged aside his concern to lighten the moment. "We'll be back later to pilot the Lifeboat back to the twenty-first century before you know it."

"Not to mention the Mothership if everything goes the way we want," Rufus added.

But in her gut, Scarlett could tell that stopping Flynn's assassination plot was pushing their luck as it is. With their soldier out of commission, they were down in numbers that actually knew how to properly defend themselves—Rufus flailing his arms didn't count in her book.

However, she cast aside her doubts and tried to share Rufus's optimistic outlook, focusing on anything really that might distract her from the day's events. After a quick match of rock, paper, scissors, Rufus and Scarlett split up to find their targets.

She arrived at the Secretary's house sooner than she estimated, but her anxiety spiked the second she noticed the door cracked open. She swore under her breath and reached for the gun tucked into her waistband as she sprinted toward the house.

Her nerves were already on edge, but it wasn't fear she felt. Pure unbridled rage made her hands tremble and they'd been that way since she'd spoken with Flynn. Should she have told the others about the conversation? Yes. But she didn't and the moment had long since passed.

Her eyes cautiously scanned every nook and cranny of the main foyer until a pair of meaty hands grabbed her from behind, strangling the breath from her lungs while crushing her windpipe.

She coughed and choked on a lack of air, dropping the gun to claw at her throat. Panic filled her eyes, distracting her from her mission until her legs acted as if they weren't attached and moved as if they had their own mind. A single kick was enough to send the man stumbling back, reeling in pain.

Scarlett gasped for breath and wheezed as she turned around to look at her intruder. She coughed again as she lifted her arms in defense even though she had very little experience in hand-to-hand combat. Her voice rasped, "How come I got the big guy?"

Her attacker only remained distant for so long before he charged toward her again. Deciding she had to use agility over strength, she ducked at the last moment and rolled away, still lightheaded as she needed more oxygen.

The man picked up a nearby lamp and swung to bring the object down on her head, but she dodged in the knick of time. The lamp shattered against the table she'd just stood beside, waking more of the household than she had liked.

From the stairwell, a young women appeared, lifting a candle in the air to light up the otherwise dark room. She gasped in shock at the sight below. "Father! Father, hurry."

The attacker was faster than Scarlett anticipated, and it wasn't long before she was caught on her hind leg. The intruder reached out his hands once more and clutched her throat while forcing her down into the chair against the wall.

Rather than claw at his hands to free herself, her hands worked to retrieve the gun on the ground. It was just barely out of reach, but as she slumped down further in the chair, the gun made its way into her hand. It was fight or flight instinct that made her act without hesitation, bringing the gun up to the man's chest and firing without remorse.

The woman screamed from the stairwell, but Scarlett no longer cared. She ran her fingers through her hair that had fallen from its time-appropriate style and slowly sat up in the chair. Her breathing was heavy as the Secretary himself rushed down the stairs.

"What's going on?" he asked in confusion.

"Mr. Secretary." Scarlett simply saluted and rose from the chair. Without another word of explanation, she left the house and wandered back toward the National before she could be caught and questioned.

——— • — 𖥸 — • ———

Scarlett caught up to Rufus before even coming close to their own hotel. After catching one another up, they decided they'd collect Wyatt and meet up with Lucy at the theater. However, as they arrived, they could see the place swarmed with the local authorities and soldiers alike.

"The tall man who shot Lincoln, I saw him earlier with John Wilkes Booth, whispering about something. I'd look for Booth," Lucy explained to the nearest officer before she noticed the others. She quickly left the officer's side to join them curious about the results of the evening. "Johnson?"

"Alive." Rufus nodded.

"Seward's okay too," Scarlett added.

Wyatt looked beyond Lucy toward the commotion of the theater, "What about—"

"Grant's safe," Lucy interrupted, "But Lincoln..."

"Is the President safe?" Voices from the crowd shouted and pleaded. "Where is the President now? What happens now? Please tell us something! Is the President well?"

Robert Lincoln answered none of the questions asked of him; instead, he made his way straight toward Lucy. "He's gone."

"I am so sorry," Lucy genuinely apologized.

"Thank you for saving General Grant," Robert replied. "The whole country thanks you."

"I wish I could have saved your father," Lucy admitted.

Robert gently shook his head. "There was nothing you could have done. I have to go."

"Robert," Lucy reached out and took his hand before he could leave. She gently squeezed it for comfort before allowing him to leave.

Meanwhile, Rufus had found Nicholas and tried to imply what was to come without actually giving anything of the future away. "Listen. Don't go south. You find your family, and you head up north. It's gonna be all right."

"All right?" Nicholas scoffed. "The man helped us, freed us, and they killed him for it. It'll never get better."

"It does," Rufus insisted. "I promise you. It's not gonna be easy, but it does get better."

Nicholas shook his head, averting his gaze but sighed. He turned to look at Scarlett before pointing at Rufus. "I was wrong about him. He's a hero with or without the uniform, but I guess you saw that, huh?"

Scarlett smiled, lightly punching Rufus in the arm as a playful gesture, which forced Nicholas to raise his brow at the odd gesture. "Yeah, he's always had it in him."

Rufus smiled appreciatively before slinging his arm over her shoulder like a brother might do to a younger sister. Scarlett gently chuckled before turning and walking side-by-side with the others back toward the Lifeboat.

Once inside, it only took a few calculations to see that Flynn was long gone. Rufus was the one to break the news, "Flynn's back in the present. Let's go home."

"I decided I was gonna let it happen," Lucy suddenly admitted as Scarlett and Rufus put in the final computations. "But then I called out to warn him. It was too late. It's one thing to talk about history like this abstract thing. But when the man gets shot right in front of you... I tried."

Silently, Scarlett nodded her head without turning to look behind her. She'd come to the same realization on her own after the evening's events. It was so much harder to remain impartial after everything she'd been through. Why was it that they had to preserve the past while Flynn could run off doing whatever he pleased? Did their efforts really even matter? 'Cause according to Flynn they all joined together like one big happy family in the end.

The second they arrived back in the present, Lucy called out for help as the door to the Lifeboat opened. "Wyatt needs a doctor!"

"Get a medic!" Agent Christopher ordered. As Wyatt was led away by a couple of medics, Christopher nodded her head as she turned her attention toward the remaining three. "You okay?"

"Who shot Lincoln?" Lucy asked instead of answering.

"President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated by a tall unknown gunman using an unknown gun on April the 14th, 1865," Mason replied.

"But it's all changed," Lucy frowned, "The gunman used to be John Wilkes Booth. Now it's Garcia Flynn."

"Well, the assassination was planned by John Wilkes Booth as part of a larger conspiracy," Mason added as if it made any difference. "Booth was hunted down and killed. The mysterious gunman also attempted to shoot General Grant, but he was saved by an obscure actress named Juliet Shakesman. Never seen again though there is a high school in Point Pleasant, Ohio, named after her."

"But what's it say about me?" Rufus eagerly asked. "I saved Vice President Johnson."

Mason shook his head. "No, says he did."

"All that guy did was get shot," Rufus grumbled under his breath.

"Well, besides the fact that you let Flynn go," Agent Christopher tried to get them back on track, "it's good work."

"But history changed," Lucy protested. "That's not how it's supposed to be."

"It's close enough," Agent Christopher insisted.

Scarlett frowned. "Is it? Because what if something changed somewhere because of what we did? Maybe someone else lost their sister or loved one."

"Flynn didn't destroy America or the world," Agent Christopher reminded them. "Take the win."

Scarlett stood dumbfounded. How could it possibly be a win? If the details of history didn't matter, then what were they really fighting for? She only felt like she'd been frozen in place for a few seconds, but as a hand touched her shoulder, she realized that everyone else had already left. Wyatt was probably still being stitched up and treated while Lucy was nowhere to be seen. Rufus and Mason could be seen standing in the debriefing room upstairs, but she had no desire to put herself in the middle of whatever was going on there.

"You alright?" Jiya asked, gently removing her hand from Scarlett's shoulder.

Scarlett nodded her head. Another lie. She was becoming quite good at telling them lately. "I'm fine."

Jiya didn't seem convinced, but continued the conversation anyway. "Carlos Ruiz. So unlike Lucy's sister, Carlos still actually existed—"

Scarlett was overjoyed and didn't wait to hear the rest. "He is?!" She covered her mouth to keep her composure intact. "Alright where..." She paused, that feeling of welling hope dying before it could sprout. "You said 'existed', past-tense... something happened."

Jiya slowly nodded her head, pulling up the countless files of one case of unsolved murder. "They never found the culprit..."

"How—" Scarlett's voice broke, "—how could changing the Hindenburg possibly do this?"

Jiya shook her head and shrugged. "I'm not quite sure, but my leading theory is that Carlos's attacker was a descendant of someone who survived the Hindenburg, similar to Lucy's parents never getting together."

"How does that work?" Scarlett asked in confusion before the pieces clicked for herself. "Nevermind, I've got a vague idea."

Jiya nodded her head. "I'm sorry."

Scarlett slowly nodded her head at the same pace unable to form words. "Thanks..." Before she could fully break down, Scarlett left the place that felt like the walls had been closing in around her. She needed fresh air and a large amount of space to think.

However, she instead found herself holed up in a bar with too many drinks to keep count of filling the counter at which she sat. She called the bartender over for another beer, her mind telling her that it should be the last while her heart told her she deserved to drown out her sorrows.

She could hardly see past the bleary tears that filled her eyes, but the shimmering of the diamond around her finger was distinguishable enough that she didn't need to wipe them away. Even if she did, she felt like she'd be disrespecting his memory. She deserved to mourn... actually she didn't. None of this would be happening if she'd just told her father no. Even if the events at the Hindenburg had still occurred, at least she wouldn't be burdened with the memories of their lives together. According to Jiya, he'd died before they'd gotten together... but then she'd have forgotten him like the rest of the world, and she didn't really want that, right?

Her thoughts were slurring and jumbling together, twisting into a mess of confusion. But there was one thing that consoled her and it was the color red that stained her hands. Sure, she'd washed them after defending the Secretary, but it was like she could still feel the warm sticky substance between her fingers as the moment replayed over and over again in her mind.

Suddenly, she found herself wishing she had shot the conspirator in the face... or maybe she was beginning to imagine things as the memory shifted to her shooting Flynn in the chest rather than insignificantly wounding his arm. What she needed was sleep and time to grieve, but even with a time machine, it would be a long time before she accepted either.