A.N. Sorry for not updating in a while. I got caught up in other things. I'm not sure how many parts this is going to be but here is part one of poor sick Rip having to put up with the Legend's attempts to help him.

PS: And due to what occurred last time I posted a fic about Rip on here , I would like it known that it is NOT okay to leave a review simply to proclaim how much you hate Rip. Thank you.

29. Poor Sick Time Dad Part 1

It started with a dry scratchiness at the back of Rip's throat.

More precisely it started April 19, 1904 in Canada where the Legends were dealing with some irksome time pirates. The pirates were stopped and the timeline restored but not until after Mick had the honour of starting the second Great Fire of Toronto and Rip had the honour of falling into Lake Ontario in -4º weather.

Thankfully, Rip was fished out of the lake fairly quickly, freezing cold but feeling more embarrassed about the time pirate getting the jump on him than anything else. He immediately returned to the ship to get dried up and Gideon checked him over thoroughly—she refused to let him leave the ship again until she had—but despite the ice bath, he was declared to be in good health.

And he was in good health. He was perfectly fine, but then he woke up the next morning with that scratchiness in his throat.

He ignored it at first. The sensation was annoying, but he had been through infinitely worse so he got on with his day, which meant, as there was never any end to the things that needed taking care of, dealing with a particularly tricky aberration during the Mexican Revolution. The Legends dealt with it with only a minimal amount of explosions and Rip was able to do his part, but his throat grew increasingly sore throughout the day and he felt more worn out than usual by the end. Assuming he had simply been overdoing things recently, he decided go to bed early, much to the surprise of Gideon and the Waverider's entire crew.

The following morning however...

"Captain, it's time to wake up."

Rip's eyes slowly slid open, squinted against the lights Gideon had helpfully turned on, and then closed shut once more as their owner let out a tired groan.

"What..." His voice was low and scratchy. Rip swallowed and winced at the pain in his throat. "What time is it?"

"It's 0700 hours," said Gideon. "You did request your usual wake-up call."

"Yes but..."

It couldn't possibly be 0700, thought Rip. It didn't feel like he had slept at all. He was even more tired than when he had gone to bed the night before. Maybe he had slept too much. Maybe that was why he was so tired. It wasn't just tiredness though. His entire body felt leaden and the ache in his throat now seemed to be radiating all the way through his chest and head.

Rip rubbed his hands over his face and gave another groan.

"Captain?" There was a touch of concern in the A.I.'s tone.

"I'm up. I'm up," Rip replied. He didn't want Gideon getting any ideas and using some of her more creative methods for dealing with those who were too slow getting out of bed. Gideon was very good at getting people out of bed when they didn't want to, not that she used them on Rip very often. Usually, it was Mr. Jackson or Mr. Rory who needed the little extra coaxing out from underneath the covers.

Ignoring his protesting muscles, Rip pushed himself up and swung his legs over until he was on the edge of his bed. The world lurched slightly as he did so and he was forced to brace himself so he didn't fall back down. He spent several moments sitting there as he came to terms with how much worse he now felt.

"Captain, are you alright?" asked Gideon, making Rip realize he'd perhaps been siting there a tad too long.

"I'm fine, Gideon," he said.

The reply was automatic but it was true. He was fine. He was just tired.

Rip rubbed his eyes again.

Very tired.

Maybe he had been overdoing it lately. Maybe he needed to take a break or even a vacation. The moment the idea crossed his mind he dismissed it. It was, after all, ridiculous. He didn't have time for a vacation. There were aberrations to correct. Time pirates to thwart. Legends to wrangle. Time off was a luxury he couldn't afford.

What the hell would he even do on a vacation anyway?

Besides, he thought as he dragged himself to his feet and began to stagger towards the bathroom, what he really needed was probably some breakfast. Had he even ate dinner last night? He couldn't remember. He bet after he had a shower, breakfast, and a cup of tea, he would be back to normal.

The warm water cascading down his body soothed his aching muscles and did make him feel better though not as much as he would have liked.

After exiting the shower, he got dressed, slowly putting on his usual outfit, dark jeans and a grey t-shirt. He was feeling a bit cold so he added his brown leather jacket too. Perhaps he got dressed a bit too slowly though because something triggered Gideon to ask after his health once again.

"Are you sure you're alright?

"I'm fine," Rip insisted tersely. The lousiness he was feeling was definitely not leaving him in the best of moods. "Stop nagging."

"Nagging?" There was an icy edge to her tone.

Rip winced. He had forgotten how much she hated that word.

"I know you're concerned but really I am fine."

There was no response from Gideon. Rip hoped that meant she was going to drop the subject and she forgave him. He was counting on his breakfast being edible that morning.

Still feeling lousy but pushing on, he made his way towards the galley. Noise and chatter greeted him as he neared. Usually, he was one of the first there, but it sounded as if the whole team was already up and eating. He must have taken longer to get ready than he'd thought.

"Good morning," he muttered as he entered.

A number of 'morning's greeted him in reply, many made around mouthfuls of food.

Ignoring the usual breakfast chaos, Rip headed straight for the cupboard containing his tea. The motions of brewing a cup were so ingrained he didn't have to think about them which was good because his mind was currently feeling as sluggish as the rest of him.

Behind him he heard a fight break out over the last pancake and he noticed the smell of bacon burning. Mr. Rory must be cooking he realized absently. Charred food was not really to Rip's taste and he felt more like something simple and comforting that morning, so he reached down a box of cereal from one of the cupboards and began to search for a bowl.

There was none, or at least, no clean ones. He opened the dishwasher and groaned when he saw it was full of dirty dishes.

"Whose turn was it to do the dishes last night?" he demanded turning around to glare at the Legends.

The team gazed innocently back at him.

Rip raised his eyebrows pointedly. "Well?"

A mischievous twinkle in her eye, Sara pointed a finger at Snart who was seated beside her.

Snart rolled his eyes and pointed over his shoulder to the stove where Mick was still working.

Mick gave a snort and levelled a spatula at Ray who was across the table from Sara and Snart.

Ray shook his head earnestly and quickly pointed beside him at Jax.

"Oh, no," said Jax. He jerked his thumb in Martin's direction.

Martin, who had seated himself at a separate table most likely in search of some peace and quiet, looked up from his grapefruit and gazed at everyone in confusion. "Sorry, what?"

Rip let out a weary sigh. "Never mind."

Grabbing a bowl, Rip washed it in the sink and quickly dried it. He then opened up the box of Honey Nut Corn Flakes and tipped it over towards the bowl.

Nothing came out.

Rip shook the box and peered inside. It was empty.

The cardboard box bent inward as Rip's fingers tightened around it. He took a slow, deliberate breath. "Who put an empty cereal box back in the cupboard?" he asked, the strain audible in his voice despite his efforts to remain calm.

He turned to look at the Legends again. They once more proved unhelpful, but this time Rip had a good idea who the culprit was. His eyes narrowed at Mr. Rory.

"What?" Mick said with a shrug. "I was hungry last night so I had a snack."

"And you put the empty box back in the cupboard when you were done?"

"'S not like I left it on the counter."

"You..." Rip began, voice rising but a stab of pain from his throat made him reconsider. He swallowed grimacing. "Forget it." He was too tired for this.

"What no lecture?" said Mick in surprise. He sounded almost disappointed.

"Yeah, you feeling okay there, Rip?" asked Snart.

"I'm fine," Rip snapped.

He put the empty box in the waste recycler and got out a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Thankfully, this box was still half-full. When he was done pouring it into his bowl, he went in search of milk. The fridge proved annoyingly empty. Someone had apparently finished off the milk and failed to fabricate more. He debated asking who had done so, but he had a feeling he wouldn't have any more luck than the other two times.

Rip went over to the food fabricator and keyed in milk. No milk appeared. Instead, the fabricator made an odd noise and several lights that shouldn't have been flashing flashed at him.

"Gideon, what's wrong with the fabricator?" he asked, hoping she wasn't still angry at him about the 'nagging' comment.

"I am afraid the fabricator's sensors are currently out of alignment," the A.I. replied.

Rip's forehead furrowed. "How the hell did that happen?"

A nervous "Uhhhh..." came from behind to him.

Rip gazed over at Ray who was wincing sheepishly and growing increasingly pink. "Was there something, Dr. Palmer?"

"I might have messed things up a bit when I tried to recalibrate the fabricator yesterday," Ray admitted reluctantly. "You see I really wanted Jello, but the Jello the fabricator was making didn't taste like real Jello, so I thought if I just tweaked things a bit..." He winced again. "Jax has promised he'll try and fix it later."

Jax, who had been digging into a pancake, nodded. "I'll get right on it, as soon as I've finished the maintenance on the life support systems. Oh, and fixed the glitch in the port thruster." He swallowed a bite of pancake and added, "And retuned the cloaking device."

"So the fabricator isn't working at all?" said Rip in disbelief, his heart sinking. If necessary he could fix it himself, but that would mean delaying his breakfast for an hour or more.

Ray shook his head sadly.

Groaning, Rip leaned forward and rested his head against the fabricator, resisting the urge to bang his head against it.

All he had wanted was a bowl of cereal. Was that too much to ask?

"Uh, you alright, Rip?" asked Sara, half concerned, half amused.

"I think we broke him," observed Snart.

"I'm fine," Rip said without lifting his head from the fabricator. He was starting to think he should have stayed in bed.

Straightening up, Rip grabbed his tea and the bowl of dry cereal, and went to sit down at the table where another squabble had just broken out. This time it was about who had used up the last of the maple syrup. Rip sipped his tea and did his best to ignore it.

He normally would have preferred to sit at the much quieter table with Martin or even taken his breakfast to his office so he could eat alone, but he needed to talk to the team before they started their day and this was the easiest way to catch them all. Calling everyone to bridge for a meeting, Rip had learned, had varying degrees of success. It could take a while for people to start appearing and then you'd be lucky to get everyone. The team weren't exactly inclined to move quickly unless there was an emergency, or if food was involved.

Rip stared down at his bowl of cereal. After a moment or two, he spooned a dry spoonful into his mouth. The bits of cereal scraped painfully against his sore throat. Grimacing, he coughed and quickly drank some of his tea.

Maybe he would just skip breakfast that morning. That seemed the safest thing to do at this point. He really wasn't that hungry anyway.

He pushed the bowl aside and rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

By this time the squabble going on around him had turned into a heated debate about which tasted better, real maple syrup or the artificial kind. Ray and Snart were arguing that the real stuff was better while Jax and Mick believed the fake kind was. Sara insisted they tasted about the same and Martin was happily staying out of the argument all together.

Since people were almost done eating, Rip decided he had better make his announcements before they disappeared into various parts of the ship. He cleared his throat.

The debate continued uninterrupted. Ray had started a lecture on all the horrible things that were put into fake maple syrup and the effects they could have on people's health, and Mick was busy listing all the things he had put syrup on. It was a very varied list including such things as pork chops, candy canes, and oreo cookies.

"If we could turn to more important matters," said Rip.

No one heard him, or if they did, they ignored him. Ray was warning about the evils of high fructose corn syrup, Mick's list had grown to include peanuts and french fries, Sara and Jax were rolling their eyes at each other across the table, and Snart was busy stealing Ray's last sausage.

"Could you just..." Rip tried again speaking louder. Unfortunately because of his throat, this wasn't very loud, and it had no effect on those around him.

Rubbing his nose, Rip debated whether or not to smash his tea cup on the table to get their attention. He really didn't have the energy to deal with the Legends' customary chaos that morning.

Ray had noticed his missing sausage and was now gazing suspiciously at Snart who gazed blankly back at him. Sara pointed out that chocolate syrup was far better than either real or fake maple syrup and Jax agreed saying strawberry syrup was good too. Mick added onions to his list.

Rip's nose itched and he rubbed it again. Sore throat or not, it seemed he would have to resort to yelling. He took a deep breath...

...and let out a giant sneeze.

Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

Rip blinked, taken aback.

"Gesundheit," said Mick.

"Uh, excuse me," Rip said and cleared his throat. "Well, now that I have your attention"—It wasn't how he had intended to get their attention but he would take what he could get—"I'd like to go over our plans for today. Gideon has detected a possible aberration in—"

"Are you sick?" Sara interrupted, nose crinkling as she frowned.

"What? No," Rip insisted. "I'm fine. I'm fine. Now this aberration—"

Ray interrupted this time. "He does look a little peaky," he said.

"Tired too," added Jax as he looked Rip over. "Check out the rings around his eyes."

Ray's forehead furrowed. "I thought they always looked like that."

Rip scowled. "I am not sick. I don't get sick."

The others gazed at him doubtfully.

"Then why are you acting even grumpier than usual?" asked Mick.

"I am not grumpy," said Rip, his sharp tone belying his words. He took a deep breath and did his best to calm. "Could we please concentrate on what's important instead of prying into the state of my health?"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying your health isn't important?"

The question threw Rip. His mouth opened and closed silently several times before he was able to reply. "Uh, what I'm saying is that we have an aberration that needs to be dealt with. I haven't pinned down the exact location, but it seems to originate in India in 327 BC during the invasion of Alexander the Great. Alexander is conquering much more of India than he should have. Now given..."

Rip sniffed. His nose was itching again.

"...given the importance of the events during the invasion in stopping..."

He could feel it coming this time and he fought against it as best he could.

"...in stopping Alexander from conquering the entire continent. We really need... need to..."

It was no good. Rip let out another explosive sneeze.

"Gesundheit," Mick said again.

Rip opened his mouth to continue, but before he could, he sneezed a third time.

"Gesundheit."

Sara gave Rip an unimpressed look. "Not sick, huh?"

"It's nothing," Rip insisted.

"You call that sneeze nothing?" said Snart. "They probably heard you all the way back in 2017."

Mick snorted. "Can't say I'm surprised. Have you seen his nose?"

It was Rip's turn to give an unimpressed look. "It's probably just allergies. Maybe there's something wrong with the air filtration. The life support systems are overdo for maintenance. That's why I told Mr. Jackson to make them a priority."

Ray gazed at him skeptically. "Have you had allergies before?"

"No," Rip admitted, "but—"

"Then allergies seem a bit unlikely, don't they?"

Rip sighed. "I suppose, but... but..." This time Rip interrupted himself by sneezing again.

"Gesundheit."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Rory," Rip said, tiredly. He sniffed and realized he was in rather desperate need of a tissue.

Martin seemed to realize Rip's plight and came over bearing a cotton handkerchief.

"You carry hankies around with you?" said Jax, lips twitching in amusement.

"They do come in useful on occasion," Martin retorted.

"Thank you," said Rip as he accepted the handkerchief. He blew his nose with what ended up being an embarrassingly loud honk. "Now if we could get back to the aberration..." he began once he was done, hoping to regain some control.

But Martin, who had been studying Rip with narrowed eyes, placed a hand on Rip's forehead and said, "Have you noticed any other symptoms?"

"For God's sake!" Rip exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

"We're simply trying to look after your best interests," Martin chastised.

"You're making a fuss over nothing!"

"Does he have a fever?" Sara asked Martin.

Martin shook his head. "No. It's probably just a cold, but given his dunking a couple days ago, I would advice he take it easy."

"Take it easy?" Rip cried, his throat protesting as he did so. "In case, you've forgotten we have a rather pressing engagement ie stopping Alexander the Great from conquering all of Asia!" His voice was starting to grow hoarse but he persisted. "There are several other potential aberrations that need looking into as well. We need to pinpoint the exact location of the current one and deal with it quickly so we can..." His voice went from hoarse to raspy, then finally gave out completely. He coughed and reached for his cup of tea.

"Sore throat?" inquired Martin, pointedly.

Rip grimaced as he sipped his tea. He hated to admit it but even he couldn't deny the truth any longer. "Alright," he conceded reluctantly as he put the cup back down, "perhaps I do have a bit of a cold."

Snart raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You think?"

"But it makes no difference," Rip continued, ignoring him. "There's no reason to halt the mission simply because I have a case of the sniffles." He blew his nose once again as if to prove the point.

Sara cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. "There's also no reason we can't take a break for a few days so this cold of yours doesn't get any worse."

"You really want to risk the timeline because of this?" said Rip.

"I'm pretty sure the timeline can take care of itself for a day or two," said Martin.

"And if not," put in Ray, "we could always do the mission without you."

Jax nodded in agreement. "Yeah, why not?"

Rip stared at them, eyes widening with alarm as he imagined the hundreds of horrible things that could occur if the Legends had free reign in ancient India. "No, no, no, no. That would be... Just no." He shook his head vehemently. "I'll simply have to go through with the mission as I am."

As he was wasn't actually that great. He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to feel rather lousy, even worse than when he had first got up. Not only was his throat still scratchy, but his head had started to ache and his nose was becoming increasingly runny. He also felt worn through as if he had been up for days. Of course, he wasn't going to let that stop him from doing what needed to be done. He had completed missions in far worse condition.

"I can take some medication if needed," Rip continued. "There's no reason... no reason I can't..." Not again, he thought as he quickly grabbed Martin's handkerchief.

The sneeze he let out shook his entire body.

"Gesundheit."

So did the second.

"Gesundheit."

And the third.

"Gesundheit," Mick said once again in an annoyingly smug tone.

Rip let a long, heartfelt groan.

"Alright let's put it to a vote," declared Sara, "who thinks we should postpone our next mission until Rip stops sneezing on us?"

Everyone, with the exception of Rip, put up their hands.

Rip scowled. "This is mutiny," he said, petulantly, and sniffed.

"I've always thought we need a good mutiny now and again," said Snart, his lips twisting into a wry smile.

"It's really not that bad," Rip protested, still not willing to give in.

"Well," said Martin, "considering you're not a medical expert and neither are any of us, how about we consult someone who is?" He gazed up at the ceiling. "Gideon?"

Rip blanched. This was not going to end well.

"Yes, Professor Stein?" said the A.I.

"What would you advice the Captain do given his current condition?"

Gideon's voice was pleasant as usual when she replied but it held a hint of something that sounded almost like self-satisfaction. "It would be advisable," she said, "that Captain Hunter spend the next few days in bed until his symptoms have fully abated. A week would be best."

"A week!" Rip exclaimed, his voice squeaking in protest.

"In order to ensure he's sufficiently recovered."

Martin smiled smugly. "Thank you, Gideon. Anything else you would advice?"

"Unfortunately, I do not have antivirals to treat every variant of rhinovirus," Gideon said, "but I can prepare some medication to ease his symptoms so he may sleep better. Maintaining warmth and drinking a large amount of fluids is also recommended under such circumstances."

Sara nodded. "You heard the lady. Time to get the Captain tucked up nice and warm in bed."

Rip's shoulders slumped dejectedly. The entire ship seemed to be against him that morning. He let Sara drag him to his feet and start leading him out of the room.

"Alright!" exclaimed Ray. "Vacation time!" He high-fived both Jax and Mick.

Oh, God, thought Rip as he considered all the things the idle Legends could get up to.

Resisting Sara's insistent pull, Rip turned to level a finger at the team. "I expect all of you to"—he was going to say 'behave' but that seemed too much to hope for—"not cause any major damage to the ship, the timeline, or yourselves while I am laid up."

"'S alright, Rip," said Jax reassuringly. "You've got nothing to worry about."

The others nodded in agreement, but there was a particular sparkle in their eyes that left Rip in no way reassured.

With a feeling of dread, he let Sara lead him away.

"Nighty-night, Captain," Snart called out after them.

Despite Rip's protests, Sara kept a firm grip on his arm all the way to his quarters.

"Now make sure you get lots of rest," she said, once she'd seen him safely there.

"I am not a child," he grumbled. "I can take care of myself."

"Sure, you can," said Sara, a little too sweetly. "Sleep tight. I'll bring you some food later," she added as she walked away heading back to the galley.

This was ridiculous, thought Rip. It was just a cold and they were treating him like—

A violent sneeze banished all further thoughts from his head.

A cry of "Gesundheit!" came from the other end of the corridor.

Rip sighed and closed the door to his quarters.