The Book of Love

AN: This story gets a little sad in places, but no one dies and it has a happy ending.

Disclaimer: Legends of Tomorrow doesn't belong to me and I make no money from writing this.

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts, some figures and instructions for dancing

But I,
I love it when you read to me.
And you,
You can read me anything.

- The Book of Love, The Magnetic Fields

It took Sara a while to work out that Rip had lied to her about his reasons for leaving. That wasn't the surprising part though, not by a long shot.

"Gideon, can you track the jump ship?" asked Sara.

"Yes, Captain Lance, but Captain Hunter instructed me not to," said Gideon.

Sara frowned. "So, you won't tell me where he went? Even if I ask nicely?"

"No, Captain," said Gideon.

"And if I override his command?" asked Sara.

"You will be unable to. He made it very clear that I was not to accept any of your overrides," said Gideon.

"That's a lot of effort to go to just to get some time to himself," said Sara. "We could really use his help right now." The dinosaurs in LA had just been the start of it.

There was a pointed silence for several seconds and then Gideon spoke. "That isn't why he doesn't want you to find him."

Sara's frown deepened. "Why doesn't he want us to find him?"

Again, there was silence.

"Gideon? Why doesn't he want to be found?"

"I can't answer that," said Gideon.

"He didn't leave because he wasn't needed, did he?" she asked. "This was always about something else, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Captain, you are correct," said Gideon. "However, Captain Hunter left very specific orders that I was not to give you any information about his reason for leaving."

Sara was concerned now. She'd just thought that he needed some time to find himself again after the Legion's brainwashing. It had clearly had more impact on him than he'd been willing to allow any of the Legends to see, but now she was wondering how much. Then again, he'd never told them about the Spear being on the Waverider, so who knew what other secrets he'd been keeping from them. He could be chasing something down.

"Can you tell me anything?" asked Sara, with frustration.

"If you ask me specific questions then I may be able to answer them," replied Gideon.

"Then I'd actually have to know what I need to ask," said Sara. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "He's not even here and he's still driving me crazy."

"I do believe that the Captain was wrong not to inform you of his destination and why he was going there, however, I was not given a say in the matter," said Gideon.

"It's okay, Gideon. We both know that Rip can be an idiot," said Sara.

She went to the crystal decanter and unstoppered it, pouring herself a large measure of the scotch inside. She slumped into the leather armchair and sipped her drink. This used to work better when Rip was here to drink with her and discuss whatever was bothering one of them. Sara had never found drinking alone to be very satisfying, which didn't stop her from doing it or hoping it would help this time.

She frowned as her brain worked through the conversation she'd just had.

"Gideon, you have cameras, right?" she asked.

"Yes, Captain," replied Gideon.

"Did Rip say anything about not showing me what he's been doing these last few weeks?"

"No, Captain. Shall I put the relevant files on screen for you? I believe there are certain days that will be more useful than others," said Gideon.

Sara sipped her drink. Apparently Gideon wasn't above stacking the deck in Sara's favour which was an interesting development. "Go ahead, Gideon."

"I should warn you that this is still several hours of footage," said Gideon.

"I don't have anywhere that I need to be," replied Sara, and she settled back to watch.

Sara nearly fell asleep watching videos of Rip, because generally he didn't do anything interesting. Mostly he went about his business as usual, but he had definitely been acting strangely in his down time. There were a lot of chats with Gideon, which of course she refused to divulge the contents of. He'd also visited medbay a number of times and Gideon wouldn't show her any pictures of what he'd done in there. That wasn't unusual because Rip had always valued patient confidentiality, so although the medbay did have cameras, Gideon wouldn't show anyone the footage without the consent of everyone involved.

Then she watched him researching locations in what appeared to be the UK, but the cameras didn't give her a good view of exactly what he was looking at. She leaned forwards in the chair.

"Gideon, what's he doing there?" she asked.

"Research, Captain Lance," said Gideon.

"Helpful," said Sara. "Can you be more specific?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain, but you are getting warmer."

Sara sighed. She needed help, so she called in Ray and Jax. They weren't exactly understanding.

"Why are we looking for him?" asked Jax. "He left us again. And this time he wanted to."

"Because something isn't right," said Sara. "I understand that he wants some time to himself, but he specifically told Gideon not to tell us where he was, and he lied about why he was leaving."

Ray was looking uncomfortable. "It wouldn't be the first time that he's lied to us."

"Yes, but that was before he knew us," said Sara. "He's kept things from us, I know, but this just seems… wrong. We broke time, he should be here. I think he might be in trouble, but he's too stubborn to ask for help."

Ray shrugged. "Or he doesn't want us to get involved. This could be something private."

Jax slowly shook his head. "Yeah, that just means we should find him before he does something stupid."

"Exactly," said Sara. "So, I need some help."

Ray and Jax got to work on the videos, using Gideon's high-tech software to zoom in on what Rip had been reading and enhance it. It still took them a while to work out exactly where he'd gone, but they did get the destination in the end. However, Sara was still baffled about why he would want to go there. Apparently, he'd gone to a hospital in Devon in 2084, one that specialised in a particular type of care.

"Was he looking for someone?" she asked Ray, as he presented his results.

Ray shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't look up any names as far as I can tell."

"I don't get it," said Jax.

"Neither do I," said Sara, "but we could really use his help, and maybe he could use ours so we'd best go and get him."

They set a course for Devon, 2084.

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt.(retd), Day 5

I always lose. I never win. I saved the world, but I couldn't save my family. I protected my team, but I couldn't protect the Spear of Destiny. We saved reality, but broke time. Pyrrhic victories are my speciality it seems. It seems obvious now that I was never going to get my happy ending. Of course, former Time Masters don't really deserve happy endings. Not after everything that I've done in the service of my former employers, or even everything that I've done to keep the Spear safe.

Still, just this once, could I not have had slightly longer with my make-shift family? Is the universe really so out to get me that I was only allowed this short period of time, fully well and in my own mind?

It nearly broke me when Sara caught me leaving the Waverider. I had so hoped that I wouldn't have to have that conversation with her, that I wouldn't have to tell her that one, last lie. And it had to be her that I bumped into, the one person who I almost wished that I could tell the truth, but it is better this way.

This is a somewhat maudlin entry, I'll try to do better next time, but I confess that I'm feeling rather down today. Perhaps it's because I realised that I won't ever see my team again. I'll never be able to sit in my study with Sara and drink whiskey from the crystal tumblers Miranda gave me. I'll never again hear Gideon chide me for failing to go to bed on time. Mick will never again threaten to roast me alive for taking the last cupcake. I'll never have to mediate another argument between Jax and Martin, or accidentally find Nate kissing Amaya in the cargo hold. I won't have to tell Ray not to test his suit weaponry in the corridors.

I would never have believed that my unruly team's behaviour would become such an important part of my life, but I can't inflict my problems on them. I have to do this alone.

Finding the jump-ship was easy once they were in the right time period. They tracked it to a field near to their destination, and it was exactly as it had been when it had departed the Waverider just over a week ago. It had also been set to return to the Waverider on automatic pilot after a year. That made both Sara and Jax frown because it meant Rip had planned to stay here for a while and perhaps hadn't expected to be able to return. He must have been doing something dangerous to need to do that.

Ray, Jax and Sara walked the short distance to the hospital which Rip had been researching. The weather was pleasantly warm and the sun was shining. If they hadn't been on a mission then it would have been quite a pleasant walk. The hospital itself seemed to be quite a luxurious one and was set in large grounds with the air of a well maintained and run establishment.

"How do we find him?" asked Jax.

"We get access to their database," said Sara. "He could be posing as a doctor or a nurse, or I guess a patient. Do you think you can manage to hack their computers?" she asked Ray.

He nodded. "It shouldn't be that hard. Gideon gave me some pointers, but if he's using a pseudonym then I doubt it'll help us."

They found Ray a quiet corner of reception to sit in whilst he did the necessary technical wizardry and waited. He frowned.

"Okay, that's weird. He's listed as a patient, and under his own name," said Ray.

Sara could see a similarly perplexed look on Jax's face. He wasn't exactly undercover if he was using his own name. She looked up at the clock and the notice that described visiting hours. It looked like they'd arrived at just the right time to visit a patient.

"Well, we should go and see him then," said Sara. "We're just three old friends here to visit after all."

Jax and Ray nodded in agreement and they went to reception, where a polite man in his mid-twenties signed them in and called the designated carer for their friend. A red headed thirty-something woman with freckles and a smile arrived to escort them into the building.

"Hi, I'm Amanda. I'm Rip's main care assistant," said the woman. "I'm actually really glad to see you, he told me he didn't have anyone to visit him, and I guess I was a little sad about that. He's made it quite clear that he's not really into the social activities we run here."

"We've been, er, travelling," said Sara, with a slight smirk at the mention of Rip not being social. "I expect he'll be quite surprised to see us."

Amanda led them through the plush hallways and out into the gardens. Sara caught sight of Rip, sat at a table with a large garden parasol shading him, and a cup of tea in front of him. There were other patients sat at other tables, but he was slightly away from them, as if he'd picked the table because it wasn't near the others. He was dressed in his usual white shirt and dark trousers, and reading a book. He didn't even look up until they were almost at his table, and when he did, it was with a sigh of resignation and a closing of the eyes. He didn't look at all happy to see them.

"Rip, I've brought you some visitors," said Amanda. "And it's 11am, so I've got your meds. Do you need more tea?"

"I'm fine, but I'm sure my guests would like something," he said, regarding them with something like resignation or possibly annoyance, maybe a combination of the two. Amanda handed him a compartmentalised box of the kind Sara had once seen her Grandmother use to store her many pills. He emptied the contents of one of the small compartments onto the palm of his hand and downed them with a swig of tea.

"Done," he said to Amanda, showing her the empty compartment, and handing back the box.

"Good man," she teased, and it was clearly teasing rather than condescension, because Rip smiled back at her. "I'll bring more tea and some cups."

Amanda bustled away.

"Well, since you've found me, you'd best have a seat," said Rip, looking at the team members who were looking at him expectantly.

Jax, Ray and Sara pulled out chairs and sat down.

"Come on then," said Sara, "what's the mission? Are you tracking someone, or another artefact, or are you fixing an aberration?"

Rip put down his book, marking the place carefully. "There's no mission. I'm not chasing anyone or anything, or fixing any aberrations. I'm a patient here."

"You're a patient?" asked Jax. "What's wrong?"

"Yeah, and why can't Gideon fix it?" asked Ray.

"It's complicated," said Rip, his eyes still on the book he'd put down and not his visitors.

"Then uncomplicate it," said Sara.

"I realised something was wrong after we got back from NASA," said Rip, looking up at Sara. "I was having a conversation with Ray and he mentioned that he'd told me about an engine upgrade that Jax was proposing." Ray was nodding, as Rip continued. "Apparently, I'd offered some advice and you wanted to ask some questions about it. You may recall that I was quite vague, pleaded tiredness and you recapped what I'd said for me."

"Yeah, you'd had a hard week though," said Ray. "We'd only just got you back from the Legion."

"The truth is that I didn't remember the conversation. I checked with Gideon that Ray wasn't the one misremembering because it seemed impossible that I could have forgotten it. He wasn't. I was. There were more moments like that. Nothing major, but I was missing bits of time without even realising that they were gone, so I asked Gideon to give me a neural scan…"

"And?" asked Sara.

Rip paused, seemingly working up to what he had to say next. He took a deep breath.

"She found a problem," said Rip, wrapping his hands around his cup. "I wasn't just simply being forgetful. Gideon found evidence of damage to my cerebral cortex. The area of my brain responsible for retaining memories was deteriorating and she was unable to stop the process."

"Brain damage?" asked Ray. "How many times did Gideon run the scan? Was she sure?"

Rip nodded. "I assure you, Ray, no mistake has been made. Gideon was very thorough."

"But you were fine. You're fine now," said Jax, with a gesture at Rip.

"I may have seemed that way, and I can still appear well, but I have already forgotten a great deal, and it's getting worse. In short, I will eventually forget everything that makes me who I am, I will forget how to perform basic tasks like dress myself, and finally my brain will be unable to carry out autonomic functions such as breathe and keep my heart beating."

"I don't understand," said Sara, "is it an illness? A disease? I thought the Waverider's medbay could heal almost everything."

Ray was nodding again at that.

"Not this," said Rip. "Gideon believes that the damage was done when Thawne tried to change my personality and didn't restore my memories correctly. The process to return a memory recording is a delicate one, and it wouldn't have taken much for him to do it incorrectly." He shrugged. "There is no way to regenerate the damaged cells in my brain without wiping my memories too, which was the problem. Even repairing the brain damage wouldn't prevent memory loss, so I decided that I would rather remember whilst I still can, and I can still be myself."

"And then you ran away?" asked Sara, in disbelief. "Without saying a word? Of all the stupid, ridiculous, idiotic…"

Rip was shaking his head though. "I couldn't stay, and I knew that you'd try to persuade me to." He looked at his three visitors for confirmation, but fixed Sara's eyes with his own. "Sara, I'm dying. Please let me do it in the way that I want to."

She heard Jax's sharp intake of breath at that from beside her. She was equally shocked but had more experience in hiding her reactions.

"How long…?" asked Ray, tentatively.

"I'm not entirely sure, probably a few months, maybe a year," said Rip, sipping his tea again, as if he'd just told them the time.

Sara shook her head. "There has to be something we can do… We have a time ship! We could go to the far future…"

Rip was already holding up a hand to stop her. "There isn't. The first thing I did was research ways to stop this. I've been looking ever since I found out and nothing will help me. This is what it is and I have made my peace with it. Admittedly it is an uneasy peace at times, but there's nothing more I can do. I have to be okay with this because I have no alternative."

Sara still wasn't ready to believe that really there was nothing to be done, but apparently Rip did so until she could do her own research, there would be no arguing with him.

"Okay, assuming that you're right, you still didn't have to leave. Come back to the Waverider with us," she said.

Again, he shook his head. "I can't. I'm going to be very ill quite shortly, and I can't impose myself upon you and the crew. You have much more important things to do than look after me. I chose this place for a reason, and that's because they have extensive experience with patients that have diseases very similar to my problem. They're used to dealing with memory difficulties."

Jax nodded. "My grandpa had Alzheimers. I remember what that was like."

Rip nodded. "And that's what they believe I have, or rather the early onset variety. I'm possibly at the younger end of the scale even for that, but so far no one has questioned it. I have a very nice room, and Amanda is taking good care of me, despite my inability to remember what happened yesterday, and my short temper when I can't recall the word I need. I am being well looked after."

"And that handful of pills you took?" asked Ray.

"Painkillers and other medication to slow the deterioration. I, er, I get headaches. The painkillers work but nothing seems to slow the deterioration. My short-term memory is currently the most problematic, although things still seem to make it into long-term memory, so whilst I may not remember you if you come back this evening, I could remember you if you come back next week," said Rip.

"Which is why Amanda reminded you to take your pills, because if she didn't, you'd forget," said Jax.

"That, and I appear to have forgotten how to tell the time, which is rather ironic for a former Time Master," said Rip, ruefully, flushing with embarrassment. "In fact, numbers are generally becoming difficult."

Sara reached out and put her hand on his arm. He looked at the gesture, and for a moment she thought he might ignore it, but he didn't. He covered her hand with his, and gave her a small, sad smile.

"At least I got to say goodbye properly in the end," he said, with a slight shrug.

Jax was shaking his head. "Uh uh, this isn't goodbye. They let you have visitors here, so I guess you'll be getting a few more visits."

Rip was already shaking his head. "No, no, no. The whole point of me coming here was because I didn't want you to have to deal with this. You have far better things to do than watch me lose my mind, and quite frankly I don't want an audience to my decline."

"That's not the point," said Sara. "I can't believe you were going to do this on your own. No one should have to go through this on their own. Okay, you don't want to come back to the Waverider, and I'm prepared to respect your decision that this is where you need to be. I get it, I do. You're just not going to be allowed to do it on your own."

Rip let out a heartfelt sigh. "I don't understand why you'd want to see me. I've explained that I'm only going to get worse. For all I know, I won't even remember who you are tomorrow. Please, take the jump-ship back with you and don't visit me again."

Of course, they ignored him. He ended up giving them a code that would let Gideon divulge everything that she'd been hiding about his illness. At least that was something, and Sara would take what small positive things she could at the moment.

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt.(retd), Day 1

I've never been good at keeping diaries before now. There's always been too much to actually do to stop and spend time writing it all down. I did keep a Captain's log, of course, whilst on the Waverider, but mostly that was the technical minutiae of running a time ship and not my personal thoughts on what had happened. I'm going to need something more thorough now. I'm going to have to make daily entries religiously if I want to retain any of my memories once I begin to deteriorate significantly. I may have already lost some experiences to this brain damage.

The bottom line is that Eobard Thawne damaged my mind when he tampered with it and now I am losing the memory function of my brain. I am already struggling to create new short-term memories and some long-term memories are fading. There are a handful of embarrassingly everyday things that I've become incapable of doing, some doors seem to be beyond my ability to open, I forget simple words when speaking, and alarmingly I have no idea how to tell time any longer. I look at the numbers on a clock and they mean nothing to me. I'm sure anyone reading this will find that hilariously apt for a time master.

I get annoying headaches that seem to last all day, but usually they can be combatted with pain medication. Occasionally they are bad enough that the only way to alleviate them is to sleep them off in quiet, darkened room. My brain is disintegrating, I suppose it was bound to hurt.

I have made the decision to move to a hospital where I can be cared for by professionals, rather than attempting to stay aboard the Waverider. I couldn't become a burden to the Legends by expecting them to look after me and I didn't want any of them to witness my deterioration. Besides, I would much rather pick the institution in which I spend my time now, rather than when I am too confused to make an informed decision. I have chosen to return to my native England, at a suitable period where brain diseases involving memory loss were not curable, but the symptoms could be alleviated. This suits me since my own condition is incurable, and in future periods such institutions become no longer necessary.

I've taken a number of factors into account and examined the timelines of those who were treated at this particular hospital and it appears to be a very reasonable institution of its type, highly sought after and recommended by the families of those who reside there. I will be well cared for in a pleasant environment. There are worse ways to die.

It wasn't exactly a council of war, because that suggested they had an enemy to fight against. She supposed that the deterioration of Rip's memories was something to fight against, but they certainly weren't going to require knives and guns for that. However, it was a chance to put their heads together to decide how, or if, they could find a cure for Rip. Sara refused to believe he'd really exhausted every possibility.

The code that Rip had given them worked and Gideon's lockout on everything to do with his memory loss was disabled. She could now give them all the information he'd gained about his condition. They had access to his brain scans, the tests that Gideon had him do and all the research that he'd already done. It was painful to sit and watch Rip fail a basic cognition test, to see him unable to remember the name of everyday objects or to relate to Gideon what he'd eaten the previous day. He was clearly upset by the revelation, his shoulders falling, his head drooping as Gideon cut off the end of the video that they'd been watching.

"He can't have exhausted every possibility, he didn't have time," said Ray. "We were chasing down the Legion for most of the time since he got back."

"Captain Hunter was aware that he was deteriorating too quickly for there to be any real hope of finding a solution in time. He had already looked at and dismissed all the conventional options," said Gideon.

"Well, then we will just have to look at the unconventional options," said Martin.

Sara nodded. "We know what happened. There must be a way to reverse it."

"What if there isn't?" asked Nate. "What do we do if we can't help him?"

Sara shook her head. "I'm not giving up before we've even started. Rip isn't a scientist so there's a good chance that he missed something, even with Gideon's help."

Jax was nodding with enthusiastic agreement. "Yeah, he's one of us. We can't give up on him until we really have tried everything."

It took Ray, Jax and Martin three weeks to realise that Rip had been through all the most obvious candidates already and dismissed them for good reasons. It was another three missions to fix anachronisms and four more weeks before Martin began to suggest a solution wouldn't be found quickly. They were left with lines of enquiry that were long shots at best, and with no new ideas, the pace of research slowed and then stopped. Jax sulked for days. Martin went through all his research again, in a gigantic review that spilled out of his quarters into the corridor, but eventually he tidied it away. Ray worked on his suit for three days straight and finally had to be told to go to bed by Nate, who ended up dragging him there himself.

Sara was glad that she hadn't promised Rip that they'd find a solution, because if she had then she'd be feeling much worse than she did now. And she felt like an utter failure even so.

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt. Ret'd, Day 18

I should have known that once the cat was out of the bag, all the Legends would want to visit, and this was exactly what I'd tried to prevent by leaving. However, I find that I'm not averse to it but I am resigned to the visits becoming less frequent as my condition worsens. I doubted that they would visit a lot in any case. When six of them arrived together I believe Amanda took a decision on my behalf and suggested that they should come one or two at a time, because she thought I would find it overwhelming. To be honest, it would have been a little bit much and I seem to remember individuals better than groups of people.

I admit that I got something of a shock when I discovered that my former team weren't going to just leave me to my fate. They all visit regularly now, as I can see from my last few diary entries. Nate and Amaya come together, and we walk in the grounds when the weather is good, or sit and sip coffee in one of the common spaces when it isn't. Jax usually comes with Ray, but sometimes with Martin and very occasionally he comes alone. Those times are when he has complex engineering problems regarding the Waverider and wishes to pick my brains. I'm not sure how long I'll continue to be useful in that regard but I endeavour to remember what I can.

The only real exception is Mick, who has visited once, declared that there was nothing worth stealing or burning, and I haven't see him again. Although he may claim otherwise, I think I know why he hasn't returned. I saw the look in Mick's eyes when I forgot words and names. He had someone close to him who went through the something similar to this. I'm not angry or surprised that he hasn't come back after that. I am well aware of how painful this has to be to watch from my friends' perspective. It was why I tried to spare them this.

Sara comes to see me twice weekly, without fail. I haven't asked how much time has passed for her in between visits. She once slipped up and said "yesterday" when it had been last week for me. I'm unsure if this is even something of significance. We talk, watch films, she asks me for advice on the team's current temporal problems. I offer what suggestions I can and try not to repeat myself. I keep telling her that she would be better spending her time elsewhere but she insists on returning, and I admit that I look forwards to seeing her in particular.

When I'm not fielding visits from my former team, I read books, I listen to music, I go for walks on the nearby beach, I write in this diary, and I forget. Slowly but surely it is all slipping away. Today I realised that I can't remember the name of the man who did this to me, then I couldn't remember how or why. It probably is in my diary somewhere, but perhaps it was best forgotten. Perhaps just this one memory I forgot on purpose.

Sara had no idea why she couldn't do as Rip asked and let him be alone with his fading memories. She was a survivor and she knew how to protect herself. Continuing to visit Rip would only bring her more pain and heartache. But she couldn't leave him alone in the hospital that he'd chosen to live out his last days in, no matter how nice it might be. He was Captain Rip Hunter of the Waverider and he didn't deserve to be abandoned by his friends when he needed them most.

She looked around his rather cosy room. It was on the corner of the building, quite nicely furnished, with old fashioned white moulding around the ceiling, Georgian panes in the windows, and could have been a room in any well-appointed house if you ignored all the institutional fire exit signs and the hospital issue bed. The room also had a number of other notices which labelled the light switch, the sockets, anything that had a use, and had lists of instructions for how to use things, often with pictures. The wardrobe had a notice on it that described how to get dressed. 1. Put on underwear, 2. Put on shirt, 3. Put on trousers, 4. Put on socks, with accompanying diagrams. Sara tried not to think too deeply about why it was necessary.

"So why Devon?" she asked. "You had all of time and space to choose from, why the South Coast of the UK?"

"I missed the weather," Rip deadpanned, looking out at the rain. He was sat in the armchair in his room, looking very much like the Captain Rip Hunter that she knew.

Sara laughed and then looked at Rip, who actually looked like he'd meant it.

"Wait, you really did miss the weather," she said, with realisation.

"Never a dull moment," said Rip. "I used to like listening to the rain hitting the roof of the, er, place where I grew up… the, er, the Refuge. It's not something that we really got on the, er… ship." He frowned and she knew by now that the look in his eyes meant he'd searched for a word and it wasn't there. Sometimes it would come to him, sometimes it was gone. He was having more trouble with proper names lately, but she'd thought "Waverider" might stick around. It could be back tomorrow. He seemed to shake it off. "Besides, what would we have to talk about if the weather wasn't so changeable in this part of the country?"

"I could tell you about the Time Pirates we bumped into during the Boxer Rebellion," said Sara.

"Thank you, but I do actually remember you talking about the Boxer Rebellion last time you were here," replied Rip.

"The weather it is then," said Sara, ignoring the fact that she'd told Rip about the Boxer Rebellion mission at least a couple of weeks ago. "So, did it rain much at the Refuge?"

"About as much as any other place in Britain," replied Rip, vaguely.

"You're not feeling very talkative today, are you?" she said, slightly frustrated. The last time she was here, they'd had a very pleasant visit, discussed the last mission, and he'd told her about the book he'd been reading.

"Ray came to visit with, er, our young mechanic friend," said Rip, pausing awkwardly before continuing. "I'm beginning to forget them, Sara. I couldn't recall his name even though I know that we've know each other for two years. I can't recall it now. I'm actually not sure who was more upset by that. Ray covered for me, but it was rather too late. I realised that I have no control over who I lose and when. I want you to tell them not to come. I can't continue to put them through this."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Not your choice, Rip. Besides, I doubt Jax is really that bothered that you forgot his name. We know that you're not doing it on purpose."

"I could tell Amanda that I don't want visitors anymore," said Rip, still contemplating the rain.

Sara gave him a frustrated look. "Why would you do that? As nice as this place is, I can't believe it's that great being stuck here on your own. Amanda told me you don't exactly interact with the other residents, even the ones your own age."

"I'm trying to protect you and the rest of the crew," said Rip.

"Yeah, and you need to stop," said Sara. "You're not the Captain anymore. We can look after ourselves and we can make our own decisions about what we want to do. You need to take care of yourself for once."

Rip let out a huff of air through his nose in that approximation of an ironic laugh that he allowed himself sometimes.

"That would not be something that I am very good at," said Rip. "I never have been. There's always been something more important than me, whether it was my family, or the mission, or you."

"Me?" she asked, touched that she would be put in the same bracket as his family.

"Yes," he said, his eyes on her, and then quickly continued. "You have always been important to me, Sara, you and the crew."

Of course, he meant the entire crew, not just her. That made much more sense, and she shouldn't feel disappointed by that. She wasn't quite sure why she did. He looked so sad.

"What are the rules about alcohol in this place?" asked Sara, pulling out her hipflask from her jacket.

"As long as it doesn't have any interactions with medication then it is allowed in moderation," said Rip. "Luckily, I don't believe any of the drugs I'm taking have contra indications for alcohol."

Sara unscrewed the top of the silver flask, took a sip from it and handed it to Rip. He took a drink and raised an eyebrow.

"Is that my bourbon?" he asked. "Raiding my drinks cabinet already, are we?"

Sara smiled. "I wasn't going to bring you the crappy stuff and the best alcohol on the ship always belonged to you."

Rip gave her a quick toast with the flask and took a second sip before handing it back.

"I can't remember why this happened," confessed Rip. "I know someone tampered with my memories and putting them back was what caused this, but I can't remember who or why."

"Do you want me to tell you?"

Rip shook his head. "I don't think I want to remember it. Sometimes memory loss can be a blessing."

"Indeed," said Sara, and she actually agreed with him there. There were definitely parts of their search for the Spear of Destiny that she'd rather forget.

"Other times… not so much," said Rip, and again she found his eyes meeting hers. Something happened between them in that second, some kind of understanding but she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Then the moment was gone.

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt. (Retd), Day 30

I realised today that I can't take anything for granted, and this might be something that I want to know. So, here's a quick summary of who I am.

My name is Captain Rip Hunter and I was a time traveller. My ship was called the Waverider and the Artificial Intelligence was called Gideon. She was my only companion on my missions to protect time for many years. The organisation that I served originally was called the Time Masters, and they raised me, gave me a home and educated me. Time Masters are supposed to eschew all attachments, but I fell in love with Miranda Coburn, we married and had a child, Jonas.

An immortal tyrant, Vandal Savage, killed my wife and my son. The Time Masters refused to do anything to stop him and it became obvious that they were corrupt, so I left them and went rogue. That's a very simplistic explanation, but it will do for now. I needed help to save my family and stop Savage, so I assembled a team, who now call themselves the Legends.

It was one of the best things that I've ever done, but of course I did it for all the wrong reasons. I'm not sure where I begin with all the mistakes that I've made with them, and we couldn't save my family. For some reason, they all stayed with me despite the lies that I told them and the danger that I placed them in.

I miss them a great deal, which is somewhat unexpected. Even when they visit, I know that I'm now missing large chunks of our interactions together, but for unknown reasons my feelings for them are still there, even if I can't remember why. Sara took over the Captaincy of the Waverider and I'm glad that they're in safe hands. She is a far better Captain than I ever was.

I can pinpoint the exact moment when I realised that the Waverider wasn't my ship anymore. It wasn't when Gideon called her Captain, or when she so competently ran the mission to the moon to retrieve the Spear fragment, or even when I realised that the crew actually did as she asked them to. It was when Commander Steel complimented me on the evolution of the crew from ragtag bunch of misfits to a team. She did that. She was the one who tapped into the greatness that I knew each of them had in them.

Unfortunately, I was never the Captain that crew needed. Fortunately, she was.

They walked on the beach together the next time that Sara visited, letting the sound of the waves fill in the silences between words. They knew each other well enough to be comfortable in the other's presence without constant conversation. The day was pleasantly warm, with small clouds dotting a beautifully lofty blue sky, although the breeze was picking up as the tide came in.

They were both ignoring the tracking wristband that Rip was wearing. Amanda had snapped it around his wrist when they'd announced their intention to leave the grounds of the hospital for a few hours. It was hospital policy, so that if patients wandered off then they could be found, but it also had a panic button that could be pressed if a patient got lost. And it had the contact details of the hospital on it, reminding Sara of the ones that she'd seen parents wrap around the wrists of children at amusement parks.

Whilst they both disliked the idea of Rip wearing the bracelet, he clearly did need it. They turned around to go home, and Rip was disorientated, unable to see which way was the way back to the hospital. He'd told her as they left the grounds that he didn't go out alone anymore for exactly this reason. He sometimes forgot where he was and then he couldn't remember how to find his way home. Sara was there to steer him right this time though, she led him back towards the hospital and they continued their conversation.

"We did get the sabre tooth tiger home eventually," she said, finishing off her anecdote about the last mission.

Rip chuckled, but then stumbled in the sand. He would have fallen if she hadn't caught him.

"Sorry," he said, "my coordination has been a little off lately. I suspect that the brain damage is now doing more than just affecting my memory."

She wasn't letting go of him because suddenly she didn't want to, and neither of them seemed uncomfortable with that. "Why didn't you say something? We could have stayed back at the hospital."

Rip didn't shake off the hold either. "I'm making the most of being able to go for a walk whilst I still can."

Sara closed her eyes for a second, letting out a deep breath of realisation. "I didn't think it would take that from you too."

He shrugged, looking down as if this wasn't really anything important. She put her hand on his chin, feeling the soft bristles of his beard beneath her fingers, and gently suggested he should look at her. She moved in towards him, and the hold to keep him upright turned into a hug.

"Sara…" he started, probably about to ask what she was doing.

"Quiet, we both need this," she said. "Just hug me, forget why we're here, and feel loved for a bit."

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, but she knew she was right. They had both needed it.

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt. (retd), Day 42

I've been recalling Nanda Parbat. I think it's because Sara came to visit me yesterday and I was reminded of our retrieval of her from Ra's al Ghul. I find that I can still speak Arabic, which is quite interesting. I wonder if language is stored differently to other memories, but that is beside the point.

I went to Nanda Parbat with the Legends because Sara had been stranded in 1958 after we tracked Vandal Savage there. Sara returned to the League of Assassins because she needed somewhere that she felt at home. I regret that I couldn't return to the moment we left to find her, but once we had dropped out of the timestream it was impossible.

Sara had become victim of the same time drift that I felt during my visit to Calvert and barely recognised me. I remember the tightness in my chest that I felt when I realised that she had no loyalty to us and was prepared to turn us all over to Ra's al Ghul. I had put the team in danger once again by underestimating the situation. However, I couldn't let Sara simply remain with the League. She was and is too important to me.

I would have fought and died for Sara, in fact that's what I'd originally intended, with the small caveat that I'd hoped that the team would have the sense to return me to the Waverider before my death became permanent. Defeating Ra's al Ghul, the Demon Head, would most assuredly have been beyond my capabilities. But, of course, Ra's was cunning and nominated Sara as his champion. So Kendra fought on our behalf. The two of them had trained together and I knew that if anyone could snap Sara out of her fugue then it would be Kendra.

Sara did realise what was going on eventually, and we got her back safe and sound. She fought magnificently and under other circumstances I would have appreciated her skill, but I was concerned about Kendra's wellbeing too. I still don't know what I would have done if we'd lost Sara to the League again, or if either of them had been badly hurt.

I remember the tight plaits in Sara's hair, even their style suggested that she was hard and pitiless. I remember her armour, and how she looked so frighteningly business-like, so cold and devoid of emotion. Not my Sara at all. The sparkle in her eyes was gone and replaced with something ruthless, but I knew in my heart that she was still there. The Sara who smiled and joked and used her skills to save lives was still in there, and I am so very glad she returned to us. I don't know how I could have survived this last year without her, and every time she visits me, I find my feelings on that score confirmed.

It was raining again so they played chess. That turned out to be the worst idea in the history of worst ideas. Rip was frustrated because he couldn't remember the strategies that he'd once learnt, and Sara was competitive enough that she wasn't going to let him win without a fight despite the fact that she was terrible at it. They gave up and Rip put some music on.

"Do you still remember dancing at the ball in the 70s when we were chasing Savage?" asked Sara, as a familiar song came on.

Rip nodded. "So far. I must write that memory down before its gone. I seem to remember you were unenthusiastic about it."

"It was a means to an end," said Sara. "But you're a good dancer. Did they teach you that at Time Master school?"

"At the Academy? No, I had to teach myself to dance," said Rip. "Besides it isn't that hard. Counting up to three is the most that is usually required. Alas, not something I'll be able to do now." He indicated the walking stick that Amanda had issued him with only that morning.

Sara shook her head. "Well, certainly you won't with that attitude." She got to her feet and pushed the furniture backwards so that there was a clear space in the centre of his room. "Captain Hunter, will you give me the honour of this dance?" She held out a hand towards him.

Rip gave her a resigned look. "I'll probably stand on your feet."

"You wouldn't be the first," said Sara.

"This is a very bad idea, Sara," said Rip. "I'll trip over and bring us both down."

Sara shook her head. "I've got you. You know I have." She gave him a reassuring smile.

He rolled his eyes, but took the offered hand and allowed her to help him to his feet. He slowly persuaded his feet to move, and he took up the waltz stance, his left hand clasped with her right, his right hand on her back and her left on his upper arm.

"You remembered," he said, as she too assumed the dance pose correctly. He didn't attempt to twirl her onto the floor as he had once done with so much confidence, he wasn't steady enough on his feet for such theatrics and they were both sensible enough to know that. This wouldn't have the flourishes, this was just to prove that it could still be done.

"So did you," she smirked.

He looked heavenwards for a moment. "Uh, yes, so I did."

"Shall we try to move?" she asked.

"We can try," replied Rip.

He moved tentatively, picking up the beat of the music, not quite leading, more gently indicating how they should step. Sara was holding him a little more tightly than would have been normal under other circumstances, but their faltering steps were definitely what could be considered dancing.

"Do you remember what we talked about?" she asked, quietly. She was enjoying the closeness and slow dancing.

"Being better, I think," he replied. "And you are, you know. You haven't lost control for a long time."

"How do you know that I didn't whilst you were away?" she asked, teasingly.

"I think one of the crew would have mentioned it if you'd gone on a berserk rampage," said Rip. "Assuming that I haven't forgotten that they did." His forehead creased into worry at that thought.

"No, you're right, I haven't lost control since that nice with Vandal Savage's ritual," said Sara.

"I knew you had it in you," said Rip. "I meant it when I said that you were strong. I wish I could say the same about myself."

Sara stopped moving for just a moment, and Rip nearly tripped over her foot, but the two of them recovered it with a bit of flailing.

"Sorry," she said. "I just didn't realise that didn't consider yourself to be a strong person. You went through things that would have killed another man. You lost your family, you had your personality altered…"

"And I failed with all of those things. My family are gone and I couldn't protect the Spear. I've made so many wrong choices in my life. I trusted the Time Masters, and I became a Time Captain rather than leaving with Miranda as I should have done. My entire life has been one huge mistake from beginning to end. About the only thing I did right was to recruit the team, and even that I did for selfish reasons," said Rip.

"Oh no you don't," said Sara. "Self-pity doesn't look good on you. Vandal Savage had to be stopped and we'd never have found out about the Oculus without you."

"But my family are still gone, Sara, and I'm about to forget them. Then it will be as if they never even existed," said Rip.

Sara shook her head. "The Legends will remember them for you. I'll remember them. Miranda and Jonas won't be forgotten. How could they be? They inspired one of the greatest adventures in my life and it isn't over yet. The Legends aren't done yet, and neither are you, Rip Hunter."

He laughed at that, but she meant every word.

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt. (retd), Day 56

I remember my wedding ring. It was gold, plain. Just a circle of metal, nothing special until Miranda put it on my finger that day in London. I remember how it felt on my skin, like a piece of magical string tying me to the woman that I loved. A permanent connection between the two of us, forever joining our hearts.

And I remember the wrench across my chest as I had to take it off when I returned to the Waverider. We married in secret, so no one could know and the ring would have given everything away. Miranda understood and gave me the chain I wear around my neck instead. I still wear the chain in memory of her and I doubt I'll ever take it off. I remember her face and the joy that filled it as I thanked her for it and tried to put into words everything that it meant to me. She always seemed to know exactly how to comfort me when I was struggling with the world.

I still miss her and Jonas so much. Sometimes I think about them and it hurts so much that for a second I can't even breathe. The grief has lessened though, as time has passed. It's not that I've forgotten them, because I now fear the day when I can't remember their faces. I haven't forgotten them yet. It's more that the grief has become part of me, something that lives in me as a silent, heavy companion and I have grown accustomed to it.

I'm writing down the memories of them as they come to me. I recalled the days that I spent with Jonas when I was home and how we played with his toys together. I remember being so proud at the milestones he reached, walking, talking, counting, reading, writing… He gave me such joy and so much hope for my own future. His life was cruelly cut short and I wonder even now what he would have been like as a grown man.

I'm writing them all down, everything that I can think of, from the way Miranda's hair caught the light to the dress that she wore on our first anniversary. I remember the soft texture of Jonas' hair and the blue of his eyes. We never did decide which side of the family that eye colour came from. Miranda's eyes were brown and mine are green. I always thought he was closer in looks to his mother, but she saw me in him more and more.

I'm writing it all down as quickly as I can put pen to paper, as fast as I can get them out of my head and onto the page, because soon I'll forget and I'm not ready to consign my wife and child to oblivion. But I remember my wedding ring still.

When Amanda saw Sara she looked very relieved. Amanda knew Sara very well by this point after the weeks of visits.

"Oh thank goodness you're here," she said. "He's having a very bad week. He's been awake for two days straight and none of us can persuade him to sleep. We're on the verge of sedating him just for his own good. Maybe you can try?"

Sara frowned. "I suppose so, but you know how stubborn he is."

Amanda sighed. "Look, I'm really worried about him. He's behaving very out of character, pinning things to his walls and writing stuff on bits of paper."

"Do you think this is his illness?" she asked.

Amanda shrugged. "I don't know. He's always been somewhat atypical when it comes to symptoms. He remembers you every time you visit, but he has trouble with basic words. So, maybe, but it could just be that he's deprived himself of sleep and that's the issue. Once he's actually had a decent night's sleep we can reassess the situation."

Sara nodded. "Okay, but I can still see him?"

"Yes, yes, it shouldn't be a problem. You're still the only person he consistently remembers and he seems to respond well to you," said the nurse.

Sara headed up to Rip's room. She knocked on the door and found it open. The occupant was cutting out pictures which it looked as if he had taken from magazines. His window was open, letting cold air into the room and the resulting breeze was fluttering the edges of the pieces of paper which were taped and pinned on the walls everywhere.

"Hey Rip, what are you doing?" she asked.

He whirled around at the sound of her voice and she had a few seconds to take in how terrible he looked before he was smiling at her and then turning back to his pictures.

"Sara!" he exclaimed. "Is it that time of the week already?"

"It is," she confirmed. "What's all this?"

"I worked it out," said Rip, as if what he'd worked out was completely obvious.

"What did you work out?" she asked, worriedly. He looked slightly manic and definitely a little out of it. It was almost like he was high on something, but she knew Amanda was very careful with Rip's medication.

"I lose my memories when I fall asleep. Every time I wake up, I've forgotten something important like the name of that thing you wear on your feet or the piece of furniture you sit on. Or something that I put in my diary, like your last visit. So, I've decided that I'm not going to sleep, and I'm making a visual reference."

Sara looked around her now. On the walls were pictures of the crew, Ray, Jax, Martin, Mick, Nate, Amaya, herself, and below each one was a list of facts. Hers had written underneath it "former member of the League of Assassins, White Canary, brought back from the dead, friend, current Captain of the Waverider, expert martial artist." It could have been far worse she supposed as she examined the entries under each photo. Then there was Miranda: "beloved wife, killed by Vandal Savage in 2166, amazing, intelligent, mother of my son Jonas, former Time Master, loved by me".

"Rip, you need to sleep," she said turning back to the man she'd come to see.

Rip shook his head. "No, I can't. I can't forget anymore. I've already lost so much. I read my diary and I realise how much I'm missing now. I can't remember your visits. I don't remember conversations that we had even though I wrote things about them."

Sara sighed internally. "You're just going to make yourself more ill by doing this. Gideon said that the damage will progress more slowly if you're otherwise healthy, and that means sleeping, eating, exercising and not stressing out." She went to the window. It was too cold outside for it to be open, so she moved to shut it.

"Leave it," said Rip, "the cold's keeping me alert."

Sara wanted to make a comment about that, but refrained and closed the window anyway. "It's freezing in here. Come on, Rip, this is just stupid."

Rip shook his head, pinning a picture of the Flash to the wall. "It isn't. I have to do something. There has to be a way to stop this."

Sara's shoulders dropped. "I wish there was, but there isn't. You know that." She went over to him and put her hands on his, pulling them downwards away from where he was about to start pinning more pictures. He was looking back towards his stash of cuttings, as if he wanted to go back to what he was doing rather than talk to her. "You're exhausted. You need sleep," she said, putting a hand on his cheek as a gentle suggestion to look at her. He turned his head back towards her.

He frowned. "Who closed the window?"

"I did. It's time you got some sleep," she repeated. She began to pull him in the direction of the bed, trying to guide him rather than force him.

"Sara, how long have you been here?" he asked, blinking tiredly at her. "Did I finish the superhero wall?"

"I've only just got here, Rip, and yes, you finished the superhero wall, or at least the Legends part of it," she replied. He seemed to drop into confusion, looking at the wall then at Sara.

"Were we doing something?" he asked.

"I was about to put you to bed," she replied.

"Amanda normally does that," he said, frowning.

"Change of plans tonight," she replied, and successfully got him seated on the bed.

"Will you stay? I've been forgetting things when I sleep, and I don't want to forget you," said Rip, somewhat sadly.

"Of course," said Sara.

"I can't forget you," said Rip. "I don't know what I'll do when I can't remember you. You've been my touchstone. The one solid point in the shifting sands of my memories. You rescued me from my own mind once. I can't forget you." It was as if the last phrase was a mantra that he needed to repeat for reassurance. He laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "I feel so unbearably detached. As if this life isn't mine anymore, as if I'll float away without my memories to keep me here."

"I'll hold on to you," said Sara. "You haven't forgotten me yet."

Rip reached out a hand to Sara. "Stay?" he asked again. "Sleep here?"

She wasn't sure if he'd forgotten that he'd already asked her, or if he was just reiterating, but she nodded. She lay down beside him, both of them fully clothed and he looked at her, clearly taking in everything about her. She shuffled closer and wrapped an arm across his torso, feeling his heartbeat, strong and secure underneath her hand.

"Thank you," murmured Rip, and he placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you for not leaving me." He closed his eyes.

Moments later he was asleep, and she didn't get to ask what he meant by that. It sounded as if he'd been talking about something more than just tonight. He had been running on fumes so she wasn't at all surprised that he fell asleep so easily, or that he actually slept through the night. She awoke in the morning to find him looking at her suspiciously.

"Sara, why are you in my bed?" he asked. "I hesitate to ask, but given the state of my memory, you'll have to forgive me… did we do anything that I'm going to be sorry that I've forgotten?"

Sara laughed at that and the rather distraught look on his face.

"You decided that sleep was optional and apparently you wouldn't listen to Amanda. I persuaded you to go to bed but you wanted me to stay, so I did. You'll note that we're both fully dressed, so no, nothing happened that was particularly memorable other than a good night's sleep."

"Oh," said Rip, and she thought that maybe he was actually a little disappointed by that, but then the moment was gone. "Clearly I have been somewhat badly behaved. I apologise."

Sara rolled over and draped an arm casually over him. He stiffened a little at the contact before he relaxed again.

"All you did was ask me to stay, so I stayed. I'm your friend, Rip. I'm not going to abandon you when you need me and last night, you needed me," said Sara.

"I don't want to forget you, Sara. I can't let myself forget you. You're the only thing that I still have left. The other Legends, I can barely remember their faces, let alone their names, but you are still there, shining brightly from some untouched corner of my addled brain." He reached out and touched her face. "I am petrified of the day when you'll be gone too. I know that I won't understand the loss, but I'm aware now that I don't want it to happen."

"But even when you can't remember who I am, I'll still be here for you, Rip. I told you that I wouldn't abandon you and that doesn't stop when you forget my name or my face or even what I was to you," she said.

"What's the point then, Sara?" asked Rip. "I enjoy your visits immensely, they're the highlight of my week, but you can't keep this up. I know I'm getting worse, visibly worse. I can't tie my own laces anymore or undo buttons. I forget things people said five minutes ago and I've already lost years of memories. This isn't just my brain failing to produce the word I need. This is the start of me losing who I am. It won't be long before I won't even exist in any sense that matters. Are you really going to keep coming to see the vacant form of someone you once knew? I can't let you do that."

"Hey, until you stop breathing, you're stuck with me coming to visit. It's what family does, Rip," replied Sara, snuggling into his side.

"Huh," he murmured. "Family snuggle side by side in bed too, do they?"

"Today they do."

They lay in each other's arms for a long time, but eventually they got up and went down to breakfast. Sara helped Rip to do his buttons and laces, standing in for his carer rather than summon her unnecessarily. Amanda tutted at the break in protocol of a visitor staying overnight, but quietly thanked Sara later for managing to get Rip to sleep.

Sara stayed the day with Rip, talking to him and watching old films. They smiled and laughed together. It was comfortable and she regretted that she'd never got to see this side of Rip before he became sick. He'd always been so serious, so focused on the job that he'd never allowed them to see anything else. At least his memory loss was good for something, she thought, and then felt bad about thinking that way because the illness had taken so many other things from him.

It was hard to leave, board the jump-ship and go back to the Waverider, but those dinosaurs in Paris wouldn't fix themselves.

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt. (retd), Day 78

Sara Lance is an amazing woman. She visited again today and, despite my inability to remember many basic terms, she held a conversation with me without making me feel like an idiot. I feel the need to get some of my memories of her down on paper before they're gone like my vocabulary. Although, often I can still remember words whilst writing that I forget when speaking. The brain is a very strange thing and mine much more so as the damage continues.

I remember when I started researching my team to take down Vandal Savage and I came across Sara Lance, the White Canary, tragically killed with her sister and father by Damien Darhk. I knew she possessed great skill and that I could safely remove her from the timeline because of her imminent death. However, I hadn't anticipated the fiery personality or her innate ability for leadership. To be honest, I think she had underestimated herself in that regard. She was always capable of greatness but was too insecure in her own abilities to allow herself to grow. I hope that by bringing her on board the Waverider I gave her the opportunity to find herself and gain the confidence that she later displayed.

I wish I could have saved her sister too, but my analysis indicated that it was impossible. In every scenario I ran, I could remove Sara but not Laurel. Either Laurel died and the timeline remained intact, or Laurel was saved and thousands of lives were lost in the future. I think Sara understood that some things just can't be changed, but I've never been certain that she doesn't still hold me responsible for her loss. It will always be one of my greatest regrets.

I found Sara in a bar in Tibet, drinking the other patrons under the table. She was clearly recovering from her restoration by the Lazarus Pit, but even then she held herself with an assurance in her own abilities. Blonde haired and blue eyed, she was a strikingly beautiful woman. I'll include a picture if I can find one, because no description that I give could do her justice.

It was only later that I came to see her as a friend. She was the first of the Legends to reach out to me in my grief and truly offer to help me on my quest. I still think about out trip to the bank and her amazingly rapid take down of the mercenaries that we faced. Her observations about the callouses on the hands of the man we met, and her eagle-eyed spotting of the hidden weapons were impressive. I was distracted by my interrogation of the computer database and if she hadn't been there to keep lookout then I would most likely have died there.

Later we danced, whilst trying to keep an eye out for more mercenaries, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy it. I wish we could have danced together more often, but there weren't many opportunities for dancing on our missions. I'm sure I was the envy of every man there at that party. It was rather unfortunate that we had to actually stop and carry out our mission objective, but I suspect that Sara was enjoying the moment somewhat less that I was, not being a natural lover of dance.

Of course, she was the consummate professional in all things and the mercenaries that we found in the corridor were rather easily dealt with by her. In fact, her superb fighting skills saved many a mission for us.

I think that dance may have been the first time that I looked at her and realised that she was someone that I cared about. She was the first woman that I cared about after Miranda. It seems so obvious now that those feelings of friendship would only become more later. I still wish I could have told her, but the moment never presented itself and now, I wouldn't want to burden her with the knowledge. She never once gave me any indication that I was anything other than a friend, and I suspect that she never really got over losing Snart.

I suppose it says something that it's only when I have no hope of ever being with her that I can admit to myself that I might have been falling in love with Sara Lance. Then, my entire life has been one of missed and lost opportunities, but at least I got to spend some time with the amazing White Canary and the other Legends.

Sara's next visit to Rip found him lying in a darkened room, having taken some strong pain medication, whilst he endured the mother of all headaches. Amanda had given her permission for her to check in on him, but only if she was quiet and left if he seemed in any discomfort from her presence. She did warn that the medication meant he was also more out of it than usual and if he was awake then it probably wouldn't be for long because he needed the sleep. Sara approved entirely of Amanda's approach in this situation. She didn't want to cause Rip additional pain, but she knew he looked forwards to seeing her.

In fact, Sara approved of Amanda. She'd been nothing but courteous and respectful when it came to Rip's care. She'd sat and watched one day as Amanda patiently waited for Rip to move his legs across the room and then struggled to get the words out to ask for tea to be set out for him and his guest in the common area. She didn't try to fill in the blanks or cut him off as he spoke. She didn't offer him an arm as he walked or suggest a wheelchair. She let him move and speak at his own pace.

"How do you cope?" Sara asked her one day, when Rip had been particularly frustrated with his memory and brusque. "He's not exactly the easiest of patients."

Amanda had let out a rueful laugh at that. "I've treated military types before now." Sara disguised her frown at that, but of course Rip had always been referred to as Captain by his visitors, so she supposed Amanda had put two and two together to make five.

"I know his kind," Amanda continued. "They won't give up a single thing until they've already lost the fight three times over. He should be in a wheelchair by rights, but he's refused it every time I've offered. We'd both find it easier, and I'm sure he knows that. He won't wear shoes that don't have laces, even though he forgot how to tie laces months ago now. The only victory I managed was to persuade him to wear a t-shirt instead of a shirt with buttons. And he writes his diary religiously every day, even though it takes him forever now just to form the letters. I've offered him a tablet that he can dictate into, but he seems reluctant to try it."

Sara smiled. "He's always been stubborn."

"How did you meet him?" asked Amanda. "I don't think I've ever heard him talk much about himself, although he talks about you quite a lot."

"Does he?" she asked, a little surprised. "We met in a bar in Tibet. I was on my way home and he was… lost. That was more than two years ago now."

Amanda seemed satisfied with that and she supposed that the carer had always expected the story of how they met to be a little unusual. Sara Lance and Rip Hunter probably wouldn't have been natural friends without the Waverider and the mission to stop Vandal Savage.

She thought Rip was asleep when she quietly entered his room, and took a seat beside his bed. She should have known better. He stirred as she sat down.

"Sara?" he asked, half turning towards her, eyes still half closed.

"Hi," she whispered, aware that loud noises made the pain worse, "aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

"Good pills," he murmured. "No pain now."

She knew that was a lie from the uncomfortable way that he was moving and that his eyes had fallen shut again.

"Amanda said it's the daddy of all migraines," said Sara. "The team send their love."

Rip gave a small nod.

"Love returned," he replied. "Miss them."

"Jax and Martin are coming tomorrow."

Again, he nodded. "Were here day before too."

Sara shook her head. Martin hadn't visited for a fortnight now because he'd found their last visit too difficult. Rip was declining much more quickly than anyone had expected, although every so often they would have a plateau before things got worse again. Martin would be back, but he had needed some time to sort himself out. Sara hadn't really thought she'd be the most resilient of the team, but out of all of them, she was the most regular of Rip's visitors.

"Put your picture up for me," said Rip. "Helps me remember who's been to visit."

Sara nodded. "Sure. I know the drill by now."

She knew him so well that she could hear the gaps in the conversation. She could see where he'd avoided words that he no longer knew (painkillers, send, yesterday) and that he couldn't really understand the passing of time as he'd used to.

"Sara, thank you for being here," he said. He let out a sad sigh. "Sara Lance. White Canary. Even you I sometimes forget now. Sara Lance. Sara…"

He fell asleep, his breathing evening out. She looked at the pale shadow of her friend, tired and ill. She missed him. He was still here and alive, but she found herself missing him and his quick retorts. She missed their discussions about mission tactics. She missed his vast vocabulary of old fashioned words and words that she'd never heard of. She missed walking on the beach with him. Most of all she missed having him with her on the Waverider.

It was as she sat in the darkened room listening to him breathe and prematurely mourning his passing that she realised something. She realised that she hadn't felt this way about anyone since Nyssa. She shook her head at that revelation. She could not be falling for Rip Hunter and she certainly couldn't be falling for her memory of Rip Hunter. That man was gone now and he wasn't going to be back.

She placed a gentle kiss on his slightly parted lips, and left to return to the Waverider.

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt. (retd), Day 93

Her picture is on my wall again. I know she was here. I know she was. I just can't remember it. Did I dream it? Is Sara Lance only a dream?

I remember her finding me, a shell, broken and afraid in the brig of the ship. My ship. I remember how she offered me her hand. Her blonde hair, her blue eyes. Her resolve to save me. I don't remember why I was there. I just remember that she saved me.

I don't think she's a dream. I don't think I could dream ice blue eyes like hers. I couldn't dream the beautiful contradiction that is Sara Lance. Could I? I don't think I could love a dream.

The following week when Sara visited he'd recovered from the hideous migraine and a new problem had reared its ugly head. Rip was frantically turning over his room as he limped around with the use of his stick. He looked quite upset.

"She stole my, er, my, er… diary," said Rip, in explanation to Sara. "It's gone. Must have been… her. The woman who looks after me."

Sara shook her head. "Amanda isn't going to steal your diary. She's got no interest in what you write about."

Rip shook his head, looking up at Sara with wide eyes. "It's full of secrets."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Okay, well, why don't you sit down and I'll tidy this place up a bit? Then maybe we'll stand a better chance of finding it. When did you last have it?"

"I wrote in it… er… before tea. I think," he said, and slowly hobbled to his favourite armchair, miserably.

Sara began to deal with the carnage that Rip's search had created. She righted an overturned chair, and picked up a box of pictures of the Legends. They were laminated so that when one of them came to visit they could stick it to the spot on Rip's notice board which had the title "I visited today:". Sara took out her own picture and fixed it to the notice board.

She picked up pens, a couple of books and placed them on the desk. She was looking for a black, leather bound journal, about the size of a large paperback. She'd never actually looked inside it, but she'd seen Rip writing in it. He meticulously recorded what he ate, who he saw, and as many details as he could remember. The diary had become his external memory and was one of his most precious possessions. She understood why he was so upset, even if the Rip she'd once known would never have let his emotions be seen so close to the surface.

She picked up another pile of books and edged under his desk. It was on the floor at the back.

"Got it!" she shouted.

"Oh, thank god," said Rip, with a sigh. "They steal my things here, you know."

Sara got to her feet. "They don't steal your things, Rip, you just forget where you put them."

"I think it's a, er, what's the word… a plot, a plot to make me go mad," said Rip. "They put them back sometimes too."

Sara brought the diary over to Rip. "There's no plot, Rip. This is a nice place, they're good people. You like Amanda."

Rip shook his head. "I wish you'd rescue me."

Sara laughed, and then realised from the look on his face that he wasn't joking. She sat on the arm of the chair and gave him a hug around his shoulders.

"I like you more than Amanda," said Rip, leaning into the hug. "It would be nice if I could remember all the things we've done together."

"I'll remember for the both of us," said Sara. "And I'm pretty sure that you wrote it all down in that diary of yours."

Rip nodded. "I write everything down because otherwise I forget. I know you came to see me while I was ill, but I can't remember it."

"It doesn't matter," said Sara. "I don't come just to reminisce about old times."

"Why do you come? I don't know who I am anymore," he asked, suddenly sounding a bit more like himself.

"I know who you are," said Sara. "You're Captain Rip Hunter, Legend and friend."

Rip shook his head. "Not anymore."

"I don't think you get to stop being my friend unless I say so," pointed out Sara. "Besides, you haven't forgotten who I am. You always remember my name."

"The day I forget you, then I will truly be lost," said Rip.

"Then I'll just have to remind you who I am," replied Sara.

"Stop coming to see me," said Rip. "This can't be fun for you."

"Do you remember when you challenged Ra's al Ghul for me?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"You told him that I was someone very special to you," she said. "You're someone special to me, Rip Hunter, and you're stuck with me until you breathe your last. That's just the way this is."

Diary of Rip Hunter, Capt. (retd), Day 105

Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance

I must remember her. I must remember her. I must remember her. I must remember her. I must remember her. I must remember her.

Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance, Sara Lance

Rip was crying and there was nothing Sara could do about it. He was simply inconsolable. Amanda had warned her that today had not been good. He'd finally given in to the need to use a wheelchair the previous week and things had gone downhill from there. It took her a full hour to calm him down enough that he could even explain.

For weeks, he'd been finding it harder and harder to write, but he'd persevered, making the letter painstakingly slowly. His diary entries had been shorter but he'd still written them and noted down his increasing issues with writing. Rip's handwriting had once been a beautiful thing to behold. He had perfect copperplate script with every letter exactly formed and joined to the next. Loops descended with flourishes and ascenders had a slight slant to them. His signature was a work of art that reminded Sara of the names at the end of some important and ancient treaty.

Now, his writing more closely resembled something that a child had produced. His letters had taken on a large and lopsided appearance. They changed size mid word, they dropped below the line and floated above it. And today he'd sat down at his desk and tried to write, and realised he couldn't remember how. Then he'd tried to read and realised he couldn't do that either.

All Sara could do was hug him as he sobbed on her shoulder. Rip would never have done this, allowed himself to be so vulnerable, had he been in his right mind, but this Rip was becoming childlike as he forgot more and more of his past. His inability to write or read was a deep wound that he was struggling to deal with. She could only imagine how hopeless things must feel to him as every day brought new indignities and challenges that would only get more difficult.

"I can't remember you if I can't read about you," he said, which Sara wasn't sure that she understood. "I can't remember any of you. I lost you all."

"You didn't," said Sara, "I'm right here."

"Sara," he said. "Sara Lance. I always remember you. I can't, I won't forget you. I can't. You're Sara, my Sara."

She moved back a little, but kept her hand on his neck and looked him directly in the eye. "Hey, we can fix this," she said, gently. "You can dictate your diary instead, and I'll get someone to scan in all your old diary entries. There are programmes that will read it for you."

"Oh," he said. "Really?"

"Yes, it'll be fine. I'll get Ray to sort it out when he comes tomorrow. He's good with the technical stuff."

"Ray?" asked Rip.

Sara went to the desk, thumbed through the pictures and picked out Ray's smiling photo. She handed it to Rip. "Ray."

"Star Wars," said Rip.

"Star Wars?" asked Sara.

"We watched it together," said Rip. "I think I had something to do with the film. Maybe I made it?"

Sara shook her head. "No, you're remembering a mission. You were pretending to be a film student and you knew George Lucas. He directed Star Wars."

Rip looked like he hadn't really understood. "Ray likes Star Wars."

"Yes," said Sara. "He does."

Diary of Rip Hunter, Day 129

Hello diary. I'm Rip. Erm… I think… I'm recording…

Today Amanda took me outside. The sun was shining. Ray fixed my diary. We watched…er… Indiana Jones with…er… Nate. He says I nearly broke the film once. They put their pictures on my wall so I know they visited. Amanda made me tea.

I miss Sara. I like days when she comes to visit. I miss Sara Lance.

Ray sought Sara out in what had once been Rip's study. Sara was sat on one of the leather armchairs drinking Rip's scotch and trying very hard not to wonder if she'd failed her friend somehow. She realised that basically she was punishing herself by coming here, to his sanctuary, where everything was associated with him, but she felt she deserved it. They should have been able to save him. Instead they'd saved the world, broken time and lost their friend. And the more she considered it, the more she realised how shattered she felt by his slow descent into amnesia. It was pulling her to pieces.

Ray hesitated at the door to the study, meeting her eyes as he did so, just to check that he was welcome here. He pulled up a chair by the round, central table, close enough that they wouldn't have to raise their voices to talk. She put down the glass and gave him her attention.

"How was your visit with Rip?" she asked.

"I think I've come up with a solution to the diary problem," said Ray. "He's got a tablet that he can record on and I've made sure Amanda knows how to save the entries and help him use it. I've got the paper diary here and I'll scan all the entries into something suitable so that he can have it read them back to him."

Sara sighed. "Thanks. I know he doesn't understand what you've done for him, but I do. It means a lot."

Ray gave a shrug. "What kind of friend would I be if I could help and didn't. Besides, he's kind of sick because of us. The Legion never would have got hold of him if he hadn't been trying to protect us."

Sara gave a tired nod. "You don't have to keep visiting him, Ray. I know he stopped remembering who you are a while ago."

"That's not why I go," replied Ray. "He's our friend and I won't leave him alone to deal with this."

Sara smiled at Ray and toasted him with her glass of scotch. "Yeah, me neither."

"Have you ever read his diary?" asked Ray, taking out the book in question a little hesitantly. Over the months it had become well-thumbed and the black leather was a little worn around the edges.

Sara shook her head. "It seemed pretty personal. It would be like looking inside his brain."

"I wouldn't have either, but I wanted to check the scans were going to work," said Ray. "I think you should read it. If he's not got much longer, then I think…" he shook his head, and took a deep breath. "I think you need to read it and decide for yourself."

Sara was frowning, wondering what the diary contained that was worrying Ray so much. "Okay," she said, a little warily. Ray handed her the book, with something like apprehension in his eyes, as if even he wasn't sure that he was doing the right thing.

"Incidentally, Jax is getting a bit worried about Martin. Apparently, he's basically been in his room for the last two weeks, going over all his notes on Rip's brain damage for a final time. Jax thinks he's feeling guilty," said Ray.

Sara's shoulders drooped. She'd been so wrapped up in dealing with Rip's decline that she hadn't been paying proper attention to her crew.

"I'll go see him," said Sara.

"Great," said Ray. "He just needs to someone to remind him he did everything he could I think. I tried, but I don't think it works coming from a former student."

Sara gave him an understanding smile, and then Ray left her to her drinking. She looked down at the book in her hand and opened the first few pages.

"I always lose. I never win," he'd written. "It seems obvious now that I was never going to get my happy ending. Of course, former Time Masters don't really deserve happy endings."

She let out a long breath. "Oh Rip, if you'd told us…" but she couldn't finish the thought because maybe they would have persuaded him to stay on the Waverider, but for how long? He'd been right about needing more care than they were equipped to give, at least not whilst they were chasing time anomalies.

It didn't take her long to realise why Ray had suggested that she read the diary. She was mentioned in almost every entry, whether it was a memory of something she'd done that Rip had faithfully recorded, or just to note that she'd visited and how happy it had made him. The other team members got cursory mentions, she got entire anecdotes dedicated to her, with complimentary notes about her clothes, eyes and hair.

Then she came to the description of their dance and how that entry ended.

"I suppose it says something that it's only when I have no hope of ever being with her that I can admit to myself that I might have been falling in love with Sara Lance."

She nearly dropped the diary, and had to stop reading for a moment to blink the tears out of her eyes. She topped up the scotch in her glass and downed it in one.

"Damn it, Rip," she muttered and continued reading, only to have the same reaction to the entire page of her name, written in painfully childish writing. This would have taken him a long time to write, and immense concentration and effort. It was probably written only about a week before he stopped being able to write at all.

"I must remember her".

She snapped the book shut, put down her glass with slightly more force than was entirely necessary, clasped the diary to her chest and got to her feet. She strode out of the study and down to Martin's room. She didn't bother to knock, she hit the door release and went in. There were papers strewn across the floor and bed, and Martin was scrawling something on a white board that she didn't remember seeing before.

"Tell me you can save him," said Sara, seeing no reason not to get straight to the point. "Tell me you can fix his brain."

Martin looked rather shocked by her entry, but he capped his pen and put it down in the sill of the board.

"I can "fix his brain"," said Martin, and Sara could hear the air quotes around his words. "But it's not a procedure without risk and there is the very real chance that it could leave Captain Hunter without any memories at all. A vegetable."

"I think at this point, we'll take the risk," said Sara. "What do you need?"

"We have most of the equipment. I think I can repurpose the Cognitive Intrusion device, but the hard part is that I'm going to need the original brain recording that Thawne corrupted and we don't know where that is."

"No, but Rip did," said Sara, opening the diary and flicking though the entries. "And he wrote something down about it, if I can just find it…" She smiled. "Zurich. It's at a bank in Zurich. He mentions the time and place and everything."

"Good, but we can't interfere in the timeline of what happened," said Martin.

"So, we make a copy and put it back so that the Merlin, Darhk and Thawne can still retrieve it later. We can do that, right?" asked Sara, hopefully.

Martin thought about it for a moment, his head on one side. Then he shrugged. "If we can find the technology to do it, then I don't see why not. Captain Hunter must have made the recording in the first place, so perhaps it's here on the Waverider." He glanced towards the ceiling. "Gideon, do we have the equipment to make a mnemonic archive on board?"

"Of course, Professor. I believe it is in Storage Room C."

Sara grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere. Gideon, get everyone together on the bridge. We've got a plan to save Rip's mind, and we're going to need to rob a bank to do it."

Diary of Rip Hunter, Day 132

Sara has…er… per…permission to… erm… to take me on a trip today. I'm looking…er… forwards to seeing her. Amanda has got my coat out. It's… erm… brown… I think that's the colour. It's long. I hope Sara likes it.

Sara was smiling when they collected Rip from the hospital. However, she did feel slightly sorry about lying to Amanda. Whatever happened, they wouldn't be bringing Rip back to the hospital. They'd all agreed that he wouldn't want to live without his memories if the procedure didn't work and they'd act accordingly. Falling asleep in medbay and never waking up wouldn't be so bad.

But Sara wasn't going to think about that. This was going to work. Their bank robbery had gone well, aided considerably by Mick Rory being one of the greatest bank robbers in all history and Ray being a technological genius who could crack any lock or safe he was presented with (as long as Mick was around to remind him to check for dummy circuits). They'd got the mnemonic archive, made the copy and returned it to the vault ready for the Legion to find later.

"Ready to get out of here?" she asked Rip, who was sat in his wheelchair, wearing his long coat. For a moment she could believe that he was going to roll his eyes and ask her why she was even bothering to ask. Then the spell was broken.

"Yes," he said, and smiled. "Sara. I like it when you come to visit."

"Great. Let me know if you want to stop or if you need anything," she said.

Rip nodded. "Okay. Can we go now?"

She almost laughed. There was the old Rip, impatient to get going.

"Yes, we can."

She took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed him away from the room with the pictures, labels and diagrams. He wasn't going to need any of those things for much longer. She wasn't going to look back and regret the time he spent there, not all of the memories were bad and he'd been cared for.

She pushed the wheelchair down the road to where Jax and Ray were waiting with the jump-ship. It was easier to park than trying to get the Waverider onto a small country road. Rip's eyes were wide as they got him out of his chair, took off his beloved coat, and settled into one of the seats.

"Ship," he murmured. She'd worried he wouldn't recognise it at all and be scared, but at least that wasn't the case. She still wasn't sure if he knew what they were doing or where they had to be going.

"Okay, Rip," said Sara. "Comfortable?"

He nodded.

"We're going to take off now and head into the timestream, so this may feel a bit strange, but you've done it lots of times before," she said, and gave a nod to Jax, who was currently piloting. "Let's go home."

She wanted to be near Rip, just in case the jump didn't agree with him. Given that time travel tended to make any kind of physical ailment worse, she was a little concerned, but they were only going into the time stream and not back out again, so hopefully it wouldn't be too bad. She sat down and strapped into the seat beside Rip's and on impulse took his hand and gave it a quick affectionate squeeze. He gave her a smile back, and then the look of wonder was back as Jax lifted them into the air. He looked over at Sara, apparently checking to make sure that this was what was supposed to happen. She nodded to let him know that everything was still okay.

Then, suddenly, as they entered the timestream it wasn't. He put a hand to his head and was definitely in pain. She'd almost forgotten about the migraines, but apparently the transition into the timestream had triggered something. He had shut his eyes tightly and was making small pained noises whilst breathing rapidly.

"Rip?" she asked. "Have you got a headache?"

He opened his eyes to look at her but quickly slammed them shut again. "Hurts," was all he managed to say.

"We're almost there," said Jax. "Just hang on two more minutes."

Ray was fumbling with the first aid kit. He pulled out the injector of painkiller that was always in there.

"I think this might be better if you do it," said Ray. "There'll be a sharp prick." He handed the painkiller to Sara.

"Rip, this will make you feel better," said Sara. "I'm going to put it against your arm and then there'll be a sharp scratch."

"Trust you, Sara," mumbled Rip, almost more quietly than she could hear.

She didn't wait for him to change his mind. She pressed the injector to his arm and he flinched. It took a few moments, but then he sighed. It was definitely the sigh of someone who was experiencing the magic of the Waverider's almost instant painkillers.

"Better," he said, and blinked open his eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Sara, with a slight chuckle. Even now, Rip was so polite.

"Coming in to dock," said Jax, mainly for Rip's benefit. He'd been on the coms whilst they'd been dealing with Rip's headache and alerted the Waverider that they were coming in.

Rip's eyes had wandered to the screen. "Ship," he said.

"Your ship," said Ray. "It's the Waverider."

"Waverider," repeated Rip. "Where's Gideon?"

Sara grinned. "You remembered Gideon. She'll be waiting for us."

Rip once again turned back to see them coming into the docking bay. He was watching Jax's hands on the control. "Don't forget the primary stabilisers."

"Yeah, yeah," waved off Jax. "You're as bad as Grey."

Clearly Rip hadn't forgotten everything about the Waverider. She helped him undo the straps and then with Ray on one side and Sara on the other, they got him to his feet.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm very slow." He shuffled his feet forwards, hanging on to his two supporters as his muscles refused to do what he wanted them to. Jax retrieved the wheelchair from where they'd stowed it and once he'd cleared the steps, he was able to sit back down in it and they made faster progress.

Sara was still worried about taking Rip to the medbay. She knew it mainly had bad associations for him. He'd woken up there after they restored his memories, they'd scanned his brain there when he was Phil, and Gideon had diagnosed his memory loss there. But it was where he needed to be in case anything went wrong with the procedure and it was the only place they could really set up the Cognitive Intrusion chair.

"Welcome back, Captain Hunter," said Gideon, brightly as he was pushed through the doors of the docking bay. "It's good to see you again."

"Good, er, good to be back, Gideon," he said, which if he'd said it without the stumble would have sounded exactly like what his old self would have said.

Ray and Jax exchanged a smile at the familiarity.

"Rip, we're going to take you to medbay and hopefully we'll get you your memories back, but there's a lot of equipment in there and I don't want you to worry. We're going to look after you and everything will be fine," said Sara, crouching in front of the wheelchair.

"I trust you, Sara," he said, for the second time since they'd left the hospital. It was making her feel rather overwhelmed.

He seemed to be taking everything in his stride, although he was beginning to look tired. However, he did begin to look worried when they pushed him into medbay. When he saw the Cognitive Intrusion hair, he began to shake his head. Martin was busily uncurling wires and getting everything ready for the memory restoration process.

"No," he said, very clearly. He had his hands out in front of him. "No. Dangerous."

Sara had very rarely seen Rip scared. Concerned - yes, stressed - certainly, angry - definitely, but the only time she'd seen him actually scared was when she'd been in his mind. But he was definitely scared now and his posture was reminding her of that moment in the brig in his mindscape. She crouched down in front of his chair again and took both of his hands in hers.

"I know it looks scary, but this is the only way to get your memory back. Martin's checked everything and we're going to sedate you so you'll go to sleep and wake up with all your memories back," she said, making eye contact and trying to sound as positive and honest as she could manage.

They couldn't really explain the risks and ask him if he wanted to go ahead because he'd never understand what they were trying to say. Even now she wasn't sure how much he actually followed. He looked over at the chair.

"Okay," he said, finally, even though he still obviously didn't really like the idea of sitting in the CI chair.

Martin and Ray whispered for a moment.

Ray came back over. "If we can get him close enough in the wheelchair then we can put the cuff on and Gideon can…" he shrugged, not wanting to say the words in front of Rip and scare him further. She got the idea though. If he was asleep then he wouldn't know what was going on and it would probably be kinder under the circumstances.

Jax helped her get the wheelchair into the crowded medbay, whilst Rip cowered, making Sara feel terrible that she was putting him through this. She snapped the bracelet around his wrist.

"You're going to sleep now," said Sara. "We'll see you soon." She placed a kiss on his forehead, gently.

He blinked up at her tiredly with the slightest smile on his face. "'Night, Sara. See you soon." Then his eyes were shutting and his breathing indicated that he was asleep.

"Okay, let's get him into the chair," she said, back to business and ignoring the looks that the kiss had got her.

Ray and Jax nodded, and Martin busied himself with hooking Rip up to all the monitors and pieces of equipment that were required for the process.

"How long is this going to take?" she asked.

"Probably six or seven hours," said Martin, "you might as well go and do something else. I'll call you when we're nearing completion."

Sara crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not leaving. If anything happens then I want to be here."

Martin nodded. "Very well, just don't get under foot."

"I'll be over here," said Sara, claiming one of the medbay couches.

Ray followed her over, looking a little nervous. She gave him a look which he correctly interpreted as speak or leave me alone.

"You read the diary?" he asked.

"You know I did, and yes, I get what you meant, and yes, I might be fond of him too," she said.

Ray smiled, and then looked back towards Rip. "Actually, I just wanted to ask you not to tell him that I'd read it too. I think he might be a bit weirded out by that."

"Oh," said Sara. "Sure, Ray, you're probably right. I have a feeling it's going to be an interesting few weeks once he's properly back with us."

Sara lay back on the medbay couch and pulled out Rip's diary from her jacket pocket. She opened it at a passage about his adventures in Renaissance Italy and settled down to read.

Rip took a while to come around, even after the sedation was removed. He found out later that Gideon had kept him under for nearly twelve hours whilst the swelling from the work on his brain went down, but when he opened his eyes, he had no idea how long he'd slept. All he knew was that he was in medbay and on the Waverider, which was strange because he'd definitely left…

The memories hit him like a wall, and he could hear the medical monitors having a tantrum behind his head. That wasn't surprising given that he had the worst headache he'd ever experienced and his heart was thumping in his chest, because what the hell had happened to him? It was overwhelming and he wasn't sure he could cope with it.

"Rip?" asked a voice, that he rapidly identified as Sara. His Sara. His Sara who had been with him through everything. He clung to her image and the tidal wave of memories seemed to back down a little.

"Sara," he murmured, trying not to say anything too loudly.

"Gideon's giving you painkillers, just hang in there a moment," she said. He felt the air move and she was there beside him. He blindly reached out a hand for her and he felt her take it, something else which helped to calm his inflamed senses.

"My head hurts quite a bit," he mumbled. "I think someone used my brain as a football." The pain was beginning to recede as Gideon increased his pain medication.

"No, it was just Martin's procedure to give you your memories back. The brain damage was extensive, more than he thought there'd be, so repairing it was a bit more intensive than anyone expected. There's some swelling and inflammation but it's much better than it was. I promise you can have all the good painkillers that you want until you feel better, but you need to answer a few questions for me before you get too loopy on them."

He opened his eyes and found Sara looking down at him with concern, concern that she was trying to hide with a smile that she had directed at him. He was, of course, thoroughly disarmed by it.

"Okay, ask away," he replied, his voice rough.

"What's two plus two?" she asked.

"Really? Four, it's four." Actually he remembered that maths had been something he'd lost the ability to do many months ago, so that seemed like a positive sign.

"Where are you?"

"In medbay on the Waverider."

"What's your name?"

"Rip Hunter."

"And my name?"

"Sara Lance. Is this really necessary?" he asked, putting a hand over his eyes.

"Do you love me?"

Rip felt like his heart had stopped. His hand dropped from his eyes and his gaze found hers. For a second he blinked, unsure whether to answer truthfully or not. She didn't look like this was a joke, her features were deadly serious. He swallowed.

"Yes, I love you," he replied. "For a while now."

A slow smile spread across her face, mischievous underneath her, now, sparkling eyes. Suddenly she was leaning down and kissing him. It took him half a second to work out what was happening and then he returned the kiss with enthusiasm. He felt its loss when it ended and Sara was looking down at him again, but was also somewhat confused.

"You realise that wasn't fair. I've just had my memories restored, my head is pounding and Gideon is in the process of administering painkillers that are going to make me less than coherent until they wear off," said Rip. "I've hardly even got my thoughts in order."

"You've had plenty of chances to say it before now, and you didn't," replied Sara. "I decided that I needed an advantage."

"I've had other things on my mind," he replied. "I've had other things done to my mind. Can I assume that I'm not dying anymore?"

"You can. Martin fixed your brain with a series of processes that I don't really understand, but a headache is probably quite normal, under the circumstances," said Sara. "What you need now is sleep and lots of it. It'll help all your memories find themselves back into their proper order and let your brain heal after everything it's been through."

He sighed. "It seems somewhat unfair to be so tired after just waking up."

"I know," said Sara, and placed a kiss on his forehead, as she smoothed his hair away from his eyes. "But after everything you've been through, you need more sleep than usual, and Martin said it'll get better in a couple of days."

"Are you going to be here when I wake up?" he asked.

"I'll do my best to be, assuming there aren't any emergencies. Can't have my boyfriend feeling all neglected, can I?" The twinkle was back in her eyes.

"Boyfriend?!" he asked in alarm. "Isn't that a little swift?"

"Life is short, Rip, time to make the most of what we've got. If this has proven anything, it's that we don't know how long we have," said Sara.

"Maudlin, but I suppose accurate," he replied. For a few seconds, he just looked at her and took in every centimetre of her face. "You didn't say it back."

She didn't need to ask what. "Wasn't the kiss enough?"

He directed a tired but expectant look at her. "Not really."

She gave him a roll of her eyes. "I love you, Rip Hunter, and if you ever try to leave on your own again, I will hunt you down and nowhere will be safe."

"Ah, the assassins' addendum. How very heartfelt. I am utterly touched," he closed his eyes, so he didn't get to see Sara's reaction to his comment.

"Hey, I'd like to at least give this thing we seem to have a chance, and I sort of need you to be in the same time period for that to work," said Sara. "Given that I currently have the career and you don't, I think it's only fair that you should move to where I work."

Rip snorted. "I am yours, Miss Lance. I would follow you to the ends of the Earth and back."

"How about the ends of time?" she asked.

"Of course, but after I've slept," he murmured, already half in dreams.

As he drifted off to sleep he heard her say: "Sleep well, Rip." and he smiled.

"I'm burning it," said Rip. He held his diary in his hands.

"Don't you dare," said Sara, snatching it away from him.

It had taken him several days to be well enough to leave medbay and now he was pacing in his quarters, working himself up into exactly the kind of stress he was supposed to be avoiding at the moment. His brain was still sorting its memories out and he was getting debilitating migraines at unhelpful times, as well as vivid dreams of past events that weren't always entirely pleasant while he tried to sleep. Things were getting better and Martin was certain that once everything was properly back in place the migraines would go and so would the dreams. Rip just had to wait it out.

"It's full of my bad prose, pathetic whining and then descent into childish gibbering," he proclaimed, trying to grab it back.

"It's full of stuff about me," replied Sara, holding the book well out of his reach. "Beautiful things about how much you love me."

Rip sighed, threw his hands up in the air and then sat down on the bed. "Can't I just tell you how much I love you?"

"Of course," replied Sara, sitting down beside him. "But this diary means something to me. I remember the moment as I read it that I realised that I felt the same way about you." She shuffled over so that their shoulders touched. "I know this has been hard for you, being laid bare like that, but I'm not going to judge you for anything you wrote or said or did while you were ill. None of the others will either."

Rip turned to her and before she knew what had happened, he was kissing her passionately. They'd been taking things slowly. With Rip still weak and recovering, the physical side of things was going to be on the back burner for a bit, and neither of them really wanted to rush it anyway. Still, the making out was fantastic and Rip was an amazingly good kisser.

When they finally broke off to breathe, Rip had rested his forehead on hers.

"People will talk," murmured Sara.

Rip chuckled. "I think they already are. You did kiss me in the medbay in front of everyone, and we're not exactly being subtle."

"We've both waited a while for this," replied Sara. "They'll cope."

"You can keep the diary," said Rip, pulling away from her. "I've started a new one anyway."

"You have?" she asked.

"I rather got into the habit of writing it every day. It would sort of feel strange not to keep on with it now," replied Rip. "Besides, I get the feeling that I'm going to need somewhere to record our adventures, because knowing us, it will be utterly unbelievable and I'll need some kind of verification that it actually happened."

Sara laughed. "Or you could just write down more mundane stuff. Things like that we danced to music in your quarters. I liked your description of our dance at the ball before Savage's ritual. We should dance together more often." Sara stood. "Gideon, could you put on some music please."

"Of course, Captain Lance," said Gideon, and soft music from Rip's record collection began to play.

Sara offered Rip her hand. "I'll lead."

Rip rolled his eyes, but got to his feet, looking into her eyes. He pulled her close to his body, wrapping his arms around her. The two of them leaned into each other, swaying together as the music played, revelling in the echo of their memory of the first time they danced together and the love that radiated from the other.

"I love you, Sara Lance," he said.

"I love you, Rip Hunter," she replied.