through the spaces in between
The team is captured in 1973 and Lucy makes a deal.
Lucy strains against the ropes securing her hands to the wall heater, using her nails to scrape against the fibers to no avail.
The small motel room she's being held in is musty, and lack of air circulation causes the warmth to cling to her skin. She huffs in frustration, the high waist of her pants digging painfully into her abdomen, but it's a discomfort she has no time to address.
Footsteps reverberate outside the room, and she twists in attempt to face the entrance. A door opens and slams, and she feels only a moment of relief when she remains alone in the room.
It all goes up in smoke as she hears a yell that is distinctly Rufus's.
She thinks she might hate the 70's.
Lowering herself the ground, she sits against the heater, still pulling haphazardly against the ropes. She winces as yell from Rufus falls short, the silence thickening around her. Footsteps echo beyond the door once again, growing louder as they draw closer.
She braces herself, and the white of the door seems to grow larger in the otherwise dark room, closing in on her. Wyatt's face flashes through her mind as she anticipates the Rittenhouse agents. Getting past at least one of them might be possible, just like he taught her, if only she could get her hands free. She pulls hard on the ropes, the fibers cutting into her wrists.
The door is handle twists and she braces herself, still tied to the heater, as the door is cranked open and a body catapults itself into the room. She exhales the breath she had been holding.
"Wyatt?"
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