A Calculation of Entropy

Chapter 14

AN: Here's the final chapter. Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. There's some further notes at the end of this chapter for those interested in the songs.

"Gideon, where is he?" asked Sara, surveying Rip's empty quarters.

"If you are referring to the Captain, he is in his study on the bridge," said Gideon.

"Idiot," said Sara, "normal people rest, but not him." He was not supposed to be going anywhere on his own. He'd been back in his own quarters barely three days and he was already breaking the rules.

She strode onto the bridge, towards the study. "Rip Hunter!" she proclaimed, ready to shout at him for his recklessness. The rest of the sentence never made it past her lips as she walked up the steps and saw him. He was asleep in one of the leather armchairs, Miranda's blanket over his knees and one shoulder, and his head resting to the left side on the wing of the backrest.

He looked too thin and too pale, and still too ill to be out of bed. He was wearing a dark grey t-shirt and sweatpants, a step up from pyjamas but only just, and no socks or shoes. The one arm that she could see had bruises down it from the seven antiviral injections. They were fading but not gone, turning interesting shades of yellowish green and blue. His eyes had dark circles around them, but his face was currently at peace. He breathed evenly and slowly, without any indication of bad dreams.

She stood looking at him for a moment, and knew she couldn't wake him. He needed rest and it didn't matter where he was while he got it. It looked like he'd been reading a book and it had fallen out of his hand when he fell asleep. She picked up the tatty paperback that was on the floor in front of Rip's chair and sat down in the chair next to his, very quietly poured herself a glass of the amber rum that was currently in his decanter, and turned to the first page without checking the title. It was a book of poetry, because of course it was, this was Rip's domain and he did stupid stuff like read poetry for fun.

This was a book of collected poems, so it didn't seem to be any one author or even arranged on a particular theme, but some of the pages had corners turned over. There were pencil notes in the margins that she recognised as Rip's careful writing. She sipped her drink and read, slightly amused by some of Rip's insights. One poem had a note which stated: "probably written because he failed to pick me up at a party" at the top of the page. Sara would have paid money to see that.

Rip stirred in his seat, and she gave him a moment to orient himself, and blink open his eyes fully. He frowned.

"Are you reading my poetry anthology?" he asked, with puzzlement.

"Yes. Did Oscar Wilde really write a poem about striking out with you at a party?"

"Well, I have no positive proof, but it was around the right time and I believe I was the only one to turn him down that night," said Rip. "He wasn't really my type and Miranda would have killed me."

Sara laughed at that. "No doubt."

"I trust you're enjoying my good 1889 Trinidadian rum," said Rip.

"It's not bad," replied Sara, taking another mouthful to make her point.

"Philistine," murmured Rip.

"I promise I'll leave you some for when you're off all the meds and allowed to partake again," she smiled.

He gave her a rather disappointed nod, and then there was silence between them while Rip worked up the courage to address the fact that he wasn't where he was supposed to be.

"I assume I'm in trouble?" he asked, quietly, looking down at his feet like a naughty child.

"Yup," said Sara. "Although at least you were sleeping. What possessed you to come here on your own?"

Rip shrugged. "I knew my poetry book was here."

"You could have just asked one of us to get it for you," said Sara. "What's so important about a dogeared book of poems that you have to ignore Gideon's sound medical advice and get up to find it?"

"Godiva was quoting T.S. Eliot," said Rip. "I was too ill to really understand at the time, but it came to me last night. I felt the need to read the originals."

"So, you got up for poetry. Godiva was a mad AI, who knows why she said those things," said Sara.

"Eliot wrote a lot about disintegration, things failing and falling apart. Death." He gave a half shrug. "And, for some reason, cats, but Godiva was quoting from the more serious portions of his work. Which I suppose makes sense given what had happened to her. Godiva wasn't just a robot, she was an AI going insane. Everything she said meant something to her and was an indication of the pain that she was in."

Sara was a little worried now. Clearly Rip was blaming himself and brooding, and that was never a sign of anything good when it came to their Captain.

"She tried to turn you into a cyborg," said Sara.

"She was protecting her Captain," said Rip. "And we killed her for it."

"Her Captain infected you with a virus that nearly killed you and was also trying to turn you into a cyborg," pointed out Sara.

"And yet I still feel that I should have done more," said Rip, resting his head back.

"You're still getting nightmares?" asked Sara.

Rip nodded. "I fear this experience may be with me for a while, for a multitude of reasons, and not just because a robot that looked like an extra from a horror movie wanted to slice me open with a scalpel." It was said lightly, but she noticed him suppress a shudder, and she caught the second that his eyes were seeing something that wasn't in the room, before he was back with her. Flashbacks sucked. Luckily Rip's didn't seem to be crippling, just unpleasant.

"It's okay, you know, to take some time to deal with this," said Sara.

"This isn't the first time that something I've done has made it hard for me to sleep," replied Rip. "I know it will get better but, in the meantime, I'll survive, as I always have."

"This wasn't your fault, though," said Sara. "We all agreed to blow up the Oculus. It wasn't just you."

"But I did break my oath to the Time Masters, and I can't place the blame for that upon anyone but myself," said Rip, adjusting his blanket.

"The Time Masters were corrupt bastards who thought Vandal Savage was our saviour," said Sara, taking another sip of her drink. "And they wanted to kill us."

"I know, and that's the problem I'm faced with. I would do it all over again. My only real wish is that there had been less collateral damage," said Rip, his voice full of guilt.

"You're not a bad person for wanting to save your family, Rip, or for wanting to free the timeline from the Time Masters, or killing Vandal Savage," said Sara. "I was standing beside you when we did all of that, remember?"

"Yes," said Rip, "but you didn't betray people who were your friends and colleagues to do it. It's no wonder Hera and Godiva hated me so much and blamed me for what happened. To them I was an abominable traitor."

Rip shook his head, as if he was trying to understand how this had happened, and Sara understood his dilemma, she really did. Every time she saw Nyssa she felt something of what he was feeling now, but she wasn't an assassin now any more than he was a Time Master.

"The Time Masters weren't worth your loyalty, and if Hera and Godiva had been in their right minds then they would have realised that too," said Sara.

"Maybe," said Rip. He eyed the decanter, clearly considering whether it was worth going against Gideon's no alcohol order, before his shoulders slumped and he apparently decided against it. "I think I need to go back to bed."

"Do you want to take the book with you?" she asked.

"No, I never liked Eliot's poems anyway," he said. "And I know my favourites by the other authors in that book off by heart."

"You do?" asked Sara.

"Of course. Remembering poetry was one of the ways I was taught to exercise my memory skills," said Rip.

"Go on then," said Sara. "Give me an example."

Rip gave the smallest of smiles, appeared to consider for a moment and then began to recite:

"When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow,
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed to brave him when he takes thee hence."

"That was beautiful," said Sara. "And appropriate for a Time Master. Who wrote it?"

"Shakespeare," said Rip. "I've still never found a poet that I enjoy reading more than him."

Sara allowed herself to grin at that. "Well, I suppose that explains the old-fashioned language." She said offering Rip a hand up, which he took.

"What old-fashioned language?" asked Rip.

"You know, all the weird old stuff that you say: "it vexes me" "ministers of grace preserve us" "all for nought" "cutpurse" – that stuff."

Rip frowned. "That's not because I read Shakespeare."

"It's not?" asked Sara, folding up the blanket that had dropped to the floor.

"No, it's because that's how people talked where I spent the first few years of my life."

"Didn't you say you were from the future?"

"Well, that's where Miranda and I settled when we had Jonas, and the Time Masters originated in the future. I wasn't born there," said Rip.

"You weren't?"

"No," said Rip, as if it was completely obvious.

"Are you going to tell me when you were born?"

Rip let out a laugh. "And give away the one secret that would allow my enemies to target me by going back in time to kill my baby self? Besides I've never exactly been sure myself. Probably sometime during the reign of Elizabeth I but I didn't pay much attention to politics whilst starving and thieving so it could have been anywhere around that time. It's hard to pinpoint a time period with only one's idiomatic language and a vague recollection of the fashions of the day to give clues."

"The Time Masters never told you where you came from?" Sara found herself feeling a little taken aback by this. Everyone deserved to know where they came from. She'd been aware that Rip was an orphan after their stop at the Refuge, but she'd never considered what he might know about his family.

"It's better not to know," said Rip. "As I said, if I don't know then I can't reveal it to my enemies and they can't hurt me with it."

"But didn't you ever want to find out?" asked Sara.

"Not really," said Rip. "After all, you've met the only person that I've ever called Mother. And you should know by now, family isn't just what you were born to, it's whatever and wherever you choose to make it. I will always be grateful for the time I had with mine."

He seemed suddenly sad, and she hadn't meant to make him sad. She'd hoped to cheer him up.

"You know, you have us too," said Sara. "Or did you miss the group hug moment? We may be a bunch of misfits, but we're your misfits."

"Don't I know it," said Rip. "And may the gods help us all." However, he was smiling and that happened so rarely that Sara considered this to be a win.

As Sara helped Rip back to his quarters an idea began to form in her mind, something that would cheer Rip up perhaps, and might also help them with their wayward Captain's inability to rest. Yes, she thought, it was perfect.

Rip had made it all the way to the sofa in his quarters without any help and was declaring victory for today. He was trying to read a book between naps when the door opened unbidden. He was about to suggest that it would have been polite to have asked for entry first, when his mother walked into the room. He blinked twice, wondering if he was dreaming, but no, Mary Xavier was standing in his quarters on the Waverider looking quite upset, and he suspected that he was the cause.

"Oh my dear boy," she said, looking him over.

"Mother?" he asked, too shocked to really form any other kind of coherent thoughts about why she was here. "Uh…how?"

"Two of your friends came to see me at the Refuge in your jump-ship," she said, heading in his direction, arms out to hug him. "They explained to me that you've been very ill and they thought I might want to visit."

He accepted the hug with bewilderment. "They shouldn't have bothered you. I'm already on the mend."

"They did explain," said his mother. She disengaged from the hug and perched herself on the sofa beside his outstretched legs. "You look terrible."

"Mother!" he said, with annoyance. "I have been quite ill."

"So I heard. Why didn't you call? I'd have been here sooner if I'd known," she said, deep concern written across her face.

"We were chasing a dangerous time criminal," said Rip, with slight annoyance. "I really didn't have time to stop off and pick up my mother."

"Michael! Is that any way to talk to me? Besides, Sara and Martin gave me the complete story, so I know that you've been in Kasnia for a couple of weeks now." She gave him one of those looks that he'd always dreaded as a child. It was the one she reserved for when one of her children had been caught out in a lie.

"I was unconscious for part of that," he pointed out, looking off into the distance. "And I assume that my team didn't think to do it on my behalf until now." He would be having words with them about this later.

"Excuses, excuses," said his mother. "I know you don't like to drag me into your world, but this is one of those times when really you should have known better. I love you and worry about you, especially now Miranda isn't around to talk sense into you."

Rip's eyes were suddenly on his mother. "Do you ever wish I'd never been brought to you?"

"No! Of course not! What on earth would make you ask me such a thing?" She looked positively hurt by his words.

"I brought down the Time Masters, your employers. I didn't intend to kill anyone but I know that some people must have died when the Vanishing Point was destroyed. I can't have been the only one of your children who was there that day," said Rip.

"No, you weren't, and you're not the only one who survived it either, in case you were wondering, but you know that I won't betray my children and so I won't give you their names. The fact is that the Time Council were rotten to the core and they deserved what they got. I will never forgive them for what they did to you, my daughter-in-law and my grandchild. In case you've forgotten, they took them from me as well as you." Rip could see that there were tears in her eyes, but they were hastily blinked away. "I still remember the morning that the Waverider landed on my lawn and you came in with a tiny baby in your arms and introduced your son to me. He was an adorable child, and the Time Masters took him from us both."

"That they did," said Rip, sadly, leaning against the back of the sofa. He reached out a hand and his mother took it, giving it a loving squeeze. "How much did they tell you about why I was ill?"

"Not a lot and from the looks they were giving each other, I'd say there were a good few lies in the mix. They mentioned that a Time Pirate infected you with a mutating virus that had you laid up for days whilst you beat it and then another mutation would bring you back to square one. It must have been miserable."

"It was, but she wasn't a Time Pirate, or at least it was more complicated than that. She was an injured Time Master, whose AI had rebuilt her using body parts from a prisoner she was transporting, machinery from some confiscated robots, and the AI herself. Her ship's AI turned her into a nightmarish cyborg that had lost all trace of her humanity." He couldn't look up at his mother, he hadn't got to the important detail yet.

"How horrible, and terribly, terribly sad," said his mother.

"The thing is," said Rip, and paused because he was having trouble speaking. His emotions were getting the better of him. "The thing is… it was all my fault. She was returning to the Vanishing Point when the blast wave from our destruction of the Oculus threw her back into the time stream and her ship was damaged. I made her into that thing and then Gideon killed her for me."

"Gideon? Surely not," she said.

"If I had not then she would have continued to attack the Captain and he was unable to defend himself at the time," said Gideon. "It was the only logical step."

"We have talked about this, Gideon," said Rip.

"They were exceptional circumstances," said Gideon.

"You carry on protecting him, Gideon. Lord knows, he's completely useless at it himself," said his mother.

"I am not," complained Rip, indignantly.

"Says the man currently recovering from a rather horrible biological weapon attack," replied his mother. "Looking after yourself has never been one of your strong points, and you're a terrible one for blaming yourself as well."

"In this case, it's entirely justified," said Rip.

"Poppycock! You decided to create the Oculus, did you? And manipulate everyone to do your bidding so that a mad tyrant could come to power?" Mary was not at all pleased.

"You know that I didn't," said Rip.

"No, you're the one who had the courage to rebel against them and destroy the evil thing. Honestly, Michael, for someone so intelligent, you can be incredibly dim at times. None of this is your fault. It's theirs. You need to put it all behind you and move on with your life."

"That is somewhat difficult when mad, cyborg, former colleagues decide to try to kill me," he said with frustration.

"Great actions have great consequences, even when the intentions are good," she said. "You have a good heart, Michael. You're always going to feel these things deeply, but you have people who love you that you can lean on."

"I suppose I do," he said.

"There is no "suppose" about it," she replied, squeezing his hand again. "Right, now we've got that out the way we can address your recovery. Gideon and Sara went through everything with me, and they have a good physiotherapy schedule worked out and I've made up a proper meal plan with them. I did point out that they need to be better at doing things for you because I know you'll never ask anyone for anything if you can help it."

Rip rolled his eyes.

"And what is this I hear about you wandering around the ship when you should be resting?"

"That happened once," replied Rip. "Quite frankly I'm too tired most of the time to do anything so strenuous as walk around the ship."

"I never thought I would live to see the day that I found you wallowing in self-pity," said his mother, with some disappointment in her tone. "Yes, you've been ill and I can only imagine how miserable, painful and frightening that's been, but you are getting better now and you will make a complete recovery. It's past time that you worked that out."

"Yes, Mum," said Rip, duly contrite.

"I have also given your friends a hard and fast date for when you are allowed to time jump again. I can't believe that you've even been suggesting it yet, or that you persuaded Gideon to let you before when you were ill. That was incredibly reckless and utterly against everything I taught you. Imagine how I would have felt if I lost you to a stupid time jump."

"But you would have been fine with losing me to a weaponised virus," said Rip, with a raised eyebrow. "I was hunting for the cure, you know. I didn't exactly have much choice."

"Don't be impertinent. There are always alternatives. Where was I? Oh yes, I'm staying on the Waverider for the next week to help out. Your friends are lovely, but they've never dealt with a sick Time Master and have no idea how difficult you can be, especially when you're bored."

"You're staying? You really don't need to," said Rip, quickly, however he found himself unexpectedly happy at the idea.

"But I want to," said his mother, and perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad plan.

The door opened again and Sara came in with a tray that had cups and saucers on it and Rip's large teapot.

"Oh good, I think we could all do with some tea," said his mother.

"How's it going?" Sara asked as she put the tray down on the table by the sofa. "I wasn't sure how you took your tea, Mary, so I brought everything."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Sara dear," she said, as if she'd known Sara for years.

"You might have warned me," said Rip, folding his arms across his chest.

"And spoil the surprise? Not a chance," replied Sara, grinning.

"He'll get over it. He's just grumpy from lack of sleep," his mother said.

"I've made up the bed in Kendra's old quarters and put your suitcase in there for you," Sara added, as she poured the tea and handed round the cups, which Rip took gratefully. He suspected that he would need tea to cope with this. Sara pulled up a chair so that she could join them.

"So, do you have any good stories about him as a tiny Time Master?" asked Sara.

"None which she is going to share with you," said Rip, before his mother could answer.

"Do you remember getting Scarlet Fever?" his mother asked. "You were terribly sick with it. One of the new children brought it in and you all got it."

Rip frowned. "No, I don't think I do."

"You hadn't been with me long and it was before I'd had a chance to schedule your vaccinations. You barely even trusted me normally, let alone when you weren't feeling well. You didn't tell me you were ill and I found you hiding in the under stairs cupboard, running a ridiculous fever that we could have dealt with in five seconds if you had actually mentioned you didn't feel well. Instead it took much longer to get you back on your feet. You hated the Infirmary…" she sighed.

"You sat with me…" said Rip, suddenly remembering. "All night, I think. Until the treatment was done, definitely, and then I seem to remember I slept for an entire day. Did I ever say thank you?"

Mary let out a small laugh. "Goodness, no. You were just eight and I was still the enemy, who wouldn't let you hide food or steal the silverware. You did eventually come around."

"You hid food and stole silverware?" asked Sara.

"Well, I tried," said Rip, with a laugh. "Mum kept finding my stashes of food and she had sharp eyes when it came to counting the knives."

"I let you hide the food. It made you feel better so I never saw the harm and eventually you stopped. You were literally starving when you arrived at my door so I knew you'd be a hoarder. You probably didn't even notice that I used to leave things out on purpose for you to take," she said, with a small smile.

"You did?" he asked, trying to remember any indication that he'd realised that, but if he had then he'd probably have considered it to be a trap so wouldn't have taken it.

It made perfect sense though. It had taken him quite some time to understand that Mary Xavier would never hurt him, or starve him, or ask him to steal for her. Her idea of punishment was to get him to do the washing up, manually, without help from his foster siblings, or remove his television privileges. She'd never sent him to bed without supper or refused him dessert. Food in the Refuge wasn't ever withheld as a punishment, although that didn't mean you were allowed to snack on biscuits between meals either.

"You always were one step ahead of me," he added, fondly.

"I had to be, otherwise I would have been in great difficulty very quickly," said Mary. "You were definitely a handful."

"Hmm," said Rip, feeling tired again, and leaning back against the sofa.

"Grab his cup," said Sara, quickly. "He has a habit of just falling asleep whatever he's doing."

Mary expertly removed the cup of tea from his tired hands.

"I'm really glad you're here," he murmured, and his eyelids closed.

The next few days developed something of a surreal quality for Sara. She was never quite sure what was going to happen next. She'd entered the galley on the day after Mary's arrival to find her baking cakes and Rip sat at a table stirring something in a bowl.

"I thought everyone might enjoy some cake for afternoon tea," said Mary. "Michael's helping."

"I can see," said Sara. "Is that wise?" Rip had never shown any inclination towards cooking in the past.

"He's actually quite good at baking," said Mary, "and it's good for his arm muscles."

"She won't let me use the mixer," said Rip, plaintively. "You'd get a much better textured sponge if you'd let me do it with the machine."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "The great Rip Hunter bakes?"

"He used to," said Mary. "He loved helping me in the kitchen."

"Alas, not something that I have much time for these days," said Rip, not looking up from his mixing.

"Well, you might as well have fun during your convalescence," replied Mary, with her standard vigour, and Rip gave a slight incline of his head as if he agreed.

The cakes turned out beautifully, and disappeared into the team in minutes. Everyone was slightly disbelieving when Sara pointed out that Rip had made the one that had disappeared first, although they all agreed that he should bake more often when Mary corroborated her story. Rip just looked a little embarrassed, but Sara saw the proud look that Mary gave him. She also noticed that Mary made sure he ate an entire slice of cake himself and that she gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head as she removed the empty plate. Positive reinforcement of good behaviour, Sara noted with a small smile.

Once all of that was tidied away, Mary set about making dinner and Rip was given potatoes to peel and cut up, while Sara was pressed into service as the gravy stirrer. As the others came into the galley to see what was going on, Mary assigned them all jobs with practiced ease, and kept Mick away from any open flames. The Waverider's kitchen had never seen so much action and the food they ate that evening was delicious.

The next day, Sara had stepped into the library to find Ray, Mick, Mary and Rip playing Monopoly. It was the London board, because that was where Rip had picked it up on a whim. Mary was beating everyone spectacularly and had piles of cash and a line of houses out already.

"I did warn you," said Rip. "She never let us win at board games and she was good at all of them."

"An important life lesson," said Mary, as she landed on Bond Street and paid the asking price, thus securing the dark greens to add to her empire of oranges, yellows and a lone red. "Besides, Monopoly is mostly luck and very little skill. If you were on your usual form then you could beat me."

"Hmm," was all Rip had to say to that. She noticed that he had the stations, all of the pinks and two light blues. Ray had the dark blues, one red and the utilities, whereas Mick was stuck with browns, the remaining light blue, and a single red, but was also currently in Jail.

"I prefer cards," said Mick.

"Oh, she can beat you at that too if you like," said Rip, having clearly had experience.

Sara watched for a bit and then left them to it. She knew how this was going to end. She'd also spotted the bowls of snacks and the surreptitious way that Mary made sure they were always within easy reach of Rip's fingers. Rip was nibbling on a carrot stick as he paid rent on Mary's house that he'd landed on, and Sara acknowledged that the woman knew what she was doing. He'd probably eaten more over the course of the game than he'd managed at lunch.

She passed Rip's room later in the day and the door was open. Mary appeared to be tidying, whilst Rip, who was sat on the bed with his back against a mound of pillows, went through things to throw out or keep. It was so gleefully normal and domestic that Sara stopped to listen for a moment, carefully positioning herself so that she couldn't be seen.

"You don't have to wear that uniform anymore, you should really just throw it out," said Mary, flinging a brown jacket and trousers onto the bed.

"It has some very fond memories for me," said Rip. "It's not like I'm lacking for cupboard space."

"And do you have to wear exactly the same thing every day? I know it's easier than having to make decisions when you get up, but everything in here is either white, grey, black or brown," said Mary.

"I do enough dressing up when I'm working," said Rip. "I like having something predictable to wear when I'm on the Waverider."

"You could at least pick one bright colour though. This is all so drab," said Mary. "And some of these should definitely go into the recycler. They're threadbare."

"Fine, if you must," said Rip. "I'm sure Gideon can fabricate me some replacements."

Then there was a pause and Mary's voice changed. "Oh, Michael." She was stood between Sara and whatever was causing her reaction, but Sara could see that she held something in her hand and that she was holding it up to show Rip.

"Oh," said Rip, his voice also taking on a different quality. "I'd forgotten I even had those. I must have hidden them back there. I was careful not to keep anything obvious on the Waverider, but I suppose they were left behind on one of their visits. I have so little left to remember them by… The house in London was destroyed… I've only got the one picture…" His voice was breaking as he spoke.

She watched Mary go over to Rip and wrap him in a hug, as she sat beside him on the bed, resting his head on her shoulder. Finally, she could see what had caused this reaction. Mary was holding two tiny, perfect, white socks in her hand that had little, blue ribbon bows on them. They were so small that they could only have belonged to a baby. Rip's body was shaking as Mary held him and Sara knew that he was quietly sobbing for all he was worth.

Sara silently walked away. Some things were private and didn't need an audience.

By dinner time, Rip was acting as if nothing had happened. He was helping to chop vegetables again and discussing exactly how to julienne a carrot. Sara did notice that Mary was more tactile than usual though, giving him a quick squeeze on his shoulder when she passed or brushing his hair away from his forehead. Mary had also made lemon meringue pie, which produced a broad grin on Rip's face. She filed away that dessert preference for future use, who knew when she might need to bribe their captain with sweets? She was beginning to realise that Rip had something of a sweet tooth.

The following day found Rip and Mary cataloguing the artefacts in the library, study and Rip's quarters. Apparently, Rip's paper catalogue was somewhat out of date and needed redoing. Sara found them in Rip's study and was pleased to see that Rip was sat in an armchair, blanket across his lap, with a pen and a leather-bound ledger, writing entries down in his neat script as Mary went around the room. He still looked ill and tired, but something had changed about how he held himself. Sara finally realised that he looked content, not quite happy, but getting there. It made her smile to see him getting back to his old self.

"You really have become something of a packrat," said Mary, dusting a white mask with a red spot on the forehead.

"You know how impersonal the Waverider felt when I moved in," said Rip. "It needed something to make it feel like home."

"Most other Time Captains don't collect quite so many trophies," Mary pointed out. "I trust you checked all of them for possible time line issues before bringing them on board."

"Of course," said Rip. "Some of them were gifts, you know."

"Are you telling me," said Sara, "that he's not supposed to collect artefacts from across time and space?"

"It's definitely frowned upon," said Mary, moving over to the central table. "What is this hideous squid thing?"

"It's an octopus. It was carved by an Atlantean, circa 150 BC, and I happen to like it," replied Rip, slightly defensively.

"Wait, are you saying that Atlantis is real?" asked Sara.

"Very much so," said Rip. "They're not terribly into time travel though, so I haven't had many reasons to visit. It's supposed to be the most beautiful city on Earth but I think it may have been the Atlanteans that decided to call it that. It's no more beautiful than any other city and considerably harder to get to, especially if you don't have gills." He completed the entry for the octopus statuette and looked up again. "What's next?"

"Physio," said Sara, her arms crossed. "You've been at this a couple of hours. It's time for your walk and exercises."

"And then you'll want to nap before lunch," said Mary, picking up the blanket from his lap and folding it so that it didn't end up on the ground. Mary appreciated tidiness.

Rip closed the ledger with a little disappointment. "Right. How many laps are we doing today?"

"Ten," said Sara.

He carefully pushed himself up out of his armchair, and waited for a second. Sara knew it was because he still got dizzy every time his stood up, but he'd promised both her and Mary that it was getting better. She didn't know whether to believe him, but he seemed to have more trouble lying to Mary so she'd accept his assessment at face value.

"Onwards then," said Rip.

Sara walked with Rip around the corridors of the Waverider and did the required ten laps, slowly but surely. He didn't need her support anymore, now that he was getting stronger, but she still stayed close in case he stumbled. This short walk would wear him out.

"You and Mary have been busy, with all the cooking, and board games, and cleaning and cataloguing," said Sara, as they walked.

"She has an aversion to doing nothing and expects others to follow her lead," said Rip. "She ran the Refuge like a military operation." He gestured in Mary's direction. "I don't think I said thank you for bringing her here. It was a good idea."

"You said that she was the only proper family you had growing up. I know I'd want my family with me if I'd been ill," said Sara.

Rip nodded. "I'm lucky to have her. A lot of the other orphans that the Time Masters collected didn't end up with such good guardians."

"So, what have you got planned for the rest of the week?" she asked.

"Finish the catalogue, try to beat my mother at any one of the many board games that we haven't tried yet and do my best to continue to prevent her from revealing embarrassing stories from my childhood," said Rip, with a little exasperation at the last item.

"Maybe before she goes, we should do something nice for her. Something that your mom likes to do? Give her a turn at being looked after," Sara suggested.

"That would be… appropriate," said Rip.

"What does she like then?" asked Sara.

"Erm… do you know, I really have no idea," said Rip. "I mean, she definitely enjoys all the things we've been doing, but you're talking about something that's just for her. I've never actually seen her relax and do something just for fun."

"Well, I guess we could at least cook for her," said Sara.

"I wouldn't," said Rip. "None of you are that good at it and the idea of Mr Rory using the cooker in the Waverider's galley worries me. Also, Mother has very high standards when it comes to food."

"Okay, sandwiches then," said Sara, she'd have been offended by Rip's words if they weren't completely true. "And maybe a picnic?"

"That could work," said Rip.

"You know we're all going to miss her when she goes back to the Refuge. While you've been taking your daily nap, she's got an afternoon bridge four going with Ray, Mick and Martin."

"Bridge? Oh dear. She's exceptionally good at that. Who did she pick as her partner?"

"Mick," replied Sara.

"Well, she does love a challenge," said Rip. "Although I seem to remember that Mick is a perfectly competent card player."

"Yes, but, apparently, Martin's quite the card sharp and Ray can count cards. Although Mick is scared of letting Mary down and they've got a secret code going. Jax has been keeping score and thinks it's all hilarious."

"I'm sure he does," said Rip, who was beginning to show signs of exertion from the walk.

"Okay, just back to your quarters now," said Sara.

"Oh thank god," said Rip, dropping his head down for a second. "I wasn't sure if we were on lap nine or ten."

Sara moved a bit closer and offered Rip her arm. "Come on, lean."

"Thank you," he murmured, putting his arm through Sara's. They made it to his quarters where Mary had already turned down the bed and set out the pills Rip needed to take.

"You are actually spoiling me, Mother," said Rip, as Sara helped him to the bed. "I'm going to be incapable of doing a thing for myself by the end of the week."

"I doubt you'll be anything of the sort. Right, exercises and then I'll give you a massage," said Mary, in a no-nonsense manner. "It'll help those tired muscles. After that you can sleep."

Rip gave an appreciative sigh. "That sounds perfect."

Sara allowed herself a smile. She'd witnessed one of Mary's massages earlier in the week and it had left Rip in a state of blissful, boneless, incoherence that led almost immediately to nightmare-free sleep. She couldn't fault Mary's methods, but decided to give the two of them some privacy.

She met Ray in the corridor.

"Nap time?" he asked. They'd become used to the schedule that Mary had Rip working to, and the structure seemed to be helping him, especially when it came to sleep. He was becoming less tired and staying awake between scheduled naps. There had been fewer nightmares that had required Gideon calling someone and Mary had even persuaded him to talk to her about what he was dreaming about (robots, Zero, dead team and broken Gideon mainly).

Sara nodded. "Mary's just doing his exercises with him."

Ray nodded. "He seems better. Happier too, actually."

Sara agreed. "I should have thought of this earlier. He listens to Mary."

"So, are we jumping out next week?" asked Ray.

"Yeah, Mary reckons we'll be safe by then, and we can take her home."

"We're going to miss her," said Ray, "and all the homecooked meals."

"Ray!" said Sara, with faux shock.

"What? She's an awesome cook, and we need to get Rip to bake more often. Did you try those gluten free double chocolate chip cookies he made me yesterday?"

"Yes, they were to die for," said Sara. "I wonder why he really stopped baking. I know he said he doesn't have the time, but he we've had downtime before and he's never showed any interest until now."

"I thought the same thing, so I asked Mary. She says he doesn't bake anymore because he and Jonas used to make things together for Miranda. He loved doing it, but now it just reminds him of them. I think she's trying to help him get his hobby back again. Here's hoping that it works."

"Well, I'm all for more cakes," said Sara.

They picked a warm, out of the way spot for the team picnic which Gideon had declared safe and free of any problems that might interrupt their lunch and afternoon in the sun. Rip escorted his mother out of the ship to where the team was waiting with a large blanket, cushions, and an old-fashioned picnic basket. He was wearing something that approximated much more closely to his normal attire, rather than the t-shirts and sweats that he'd been in whilst convalescing. It was time he started thinking about getting back to work and this would pretty much mark the end of their enforced holiday.

He had baked bread this morning, shooing Mary out of the kitchen to be taken care of by Jax and Martin so that she wouldn't fuss over him overdoing it. He wanted to do this and he couldn't care less if it wiped him out later as long as he made it through the picnic. He was going to do something to repay his Mother for her support and kindness, both now and when he was growing up, and about all he had to offer at the moment were his baking skills.

Sara had joined him and persuaded him to at least sit to do as much of it as possible. She'd also done a lot of the fetching and carrying of ingredients and equipment. Then she'd drafted in Ray for clean-up duty, making Rip a nice cup of tea and telling him to just sit while they tidied away the flour and mixing bowls. Rip suppressed his instinct to feel guilty at letting someone else work while he rested and gave in to Sara's instructions.

"You didn't have to do all this for me," smiled Mary, as she saw the picnic.

"Yes, we really did," said Rip. "I was a complete mess when you arrived and, as usual, you fixed me and set me back on the right path. I am eternally grateful and a picnic is hardly enough to repay you for your years of love and kindness."

"As if I ever did it for any sort of payment," said Mary. "Imagine how dull my life would have been without you and your foster siblings."

"Quite," said Rip, as they reached the blanket.

The rest of the team greeted Mary happily and found her a cushion to sit on, and Rip sat down beside her. Sara handed round the plates and then the sandwiches, made from the bread that Rip had baked that morning. They also had three types of salad, snacks and crisps, and some more of the fruits of Rip's baking from the last few days. Everyone tucked in with enthusiasm. Gideon had given her permission for Rip to have a small amount of alcohol, so Sara poured glasses of wine for everyone except Mick, who had brought his own beer.

"To Mary," said Sara, holding up her glass. "Thank you for everything. We couldn't have coped without you."

Everyone clinked glasses or bottles with enthusiastic agreement and drank.

"I'm sure you'd have managed, but it was my pleasure," said Mary.

"No, it was mainly ours," said Rip. "Apologies if I have been somewhat difficult."

"Only as much as usual," said Sara. "Come on, let's eat."

The team attacked the large pile of sandwiches.

"I for one will miss our bridge afternoons," said Martin.

"We're not stopping," said Mick, "I just need a new partner."

Martin turned towards Jax. "Don't look at me," said Jax. "I'm just the scorer."

"You've been promoted," said Mick.

"Well, that's that settled then," said Ray, patting Jax on the shoulder. It appeared that Jax wasn't being given a choice.

"Michael, these are delicious," said Mary, as she finished her first sandwich. "You have a real talent for this. If you ever decide to stop travelling through time then you could have a very profitable business as a baker."

Rip blushed at the compliment, which he noticed amused Sara.

"You realise that now we know you can bake, you're going to have to do it more often," said Sara.

"Yes, I never should have alerted you all to this particular talent," said Rip.

"That's not the only talent he has," said Mary. "He sings very nicely too."

Rip groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Now you've done it."

"I've been known to sing a little," said Martin. "Perhaps we should look into getting a piano for the Waverider..."

"No!" said Rip, quickly, "where would we even put it?"

"I'm sure we could find room in the library," said Jax, with amusement.

"Mick has a guitar," said Sara.

"Just for show," said Mick. "I can't play it."

"I could teach you," offered Rip, already wondering if it was madness to offer before the words had left his lips.

"Nah," said Mick. "Tried once but my fingers are too big. Some things just aren't meant to be. I can play the drums though." He grinned at that.

"Stop, I'm still getting over the idea that Rip can sing," said Sara. "And apparently play guitar."

"The piano too," said Mary, without any shame, and an amused smile in Rip's direction. "I like to think that I gave my children an appropriate education to equip them for life and every child should learn to play at least one musical instrument."

"You've been holding out on us, Rip," said Jax. "You guys should form a band."

"That sounds like an extraordinarily bad idea, not least because I'm rather rusty," said Rip.

"Is that why Gideon can sing?" asked Jax. "I mean I know that she's an AI, but she has kind of a nice voice too. Godiva wasn't nearly as good as Gideon."

"An accident of programming, I assure you," said Rip. "But she does rather enjoy it. Hence her method of disabling her fellow AIs."

"She always was somewhat unusual," said Mary. "But she cares a lot about her Captain."

"Yes, she's always there for me," said Rip, with fondness.

"And she fabricated me a football," said Jax, with a smile, pulling it out from behind his back. "I thought we could have a throw about when we've finished eating."

"Ah, I'm afraid that I'll be sitting that out," said Rip.

"Oh come on, Rip," said Sara, "you can manage to catch a ball."

"I can catch, I just won't manage much in the way of running," said Rip, who still had all the energy of a low watt bulb.

"I have to agree with Michael," said Mary, "why don't you let him off this time and we'll keep score."

"That assumes that there'll be some kind of goal," said Martin.

"Are you up for it, Grey?" asked Jax, gobbling down the last of his sandwich.

"I fear that I'm even less mobile than our dear Captain," said Martin.

"I'll play," said Ray.

"That's one. Come on, guys, how often do we get to do this kind of stuff? Sara? Mick?"

Sara rolled her eyes, but gave in. "Sure, why not. Come on, Mick. If I'm doing this then you have to as well."

"You don't want me on the field," said Mick, downing the last of his beer.

"You think you can catch me?" asked Jax, moving the ball from one hand to the other.

"Jax, do remember your leg," said Rip. "Please be careful when baiting Mr Rory. I'm sure we'd all prefer not to have this outing end with you in the medbay."

Mick gave Jax a broad and dangerous smile. Jax jumped to his feet and dashed away, laughing, with Mick hard on his heels.

"Miss Lance," said Rip, with resignation, "Perhaps you and Doctor Palmer could see that Mr Rory doesn't damage Mr Jackson too badly."

Sara flicked her hair out of her face, popped a cherry tomato into her mouth, and languidly got to her feet. She stretched as she chewed, then she jogged over to Jax and in what appeared to be an impossible move that Rip would have sworn was just a blur of hands, she stole the ball from him and ran off, giggling, with Jax in hot pursuit.

"Assassin football," said Ray, putting his plate down. "This is going to be fun," he said with enthusiasm. He too got to his feet and headed into the field.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," said Rip, watching the four team members messing about on the field. He repositioned himself on the blanket, leaning back on an elbow.

"Yes, I think I should go and referee before an injury occurs," said Martin, pushing himself up and wandering towards the game.

"They remind me of you and your foster siblings," said Mary, reaching out to give Rip a quick sideways hug.

"Yes," said Rip, drawing out the word. "They do bear a strong resemblance to a bunch of children."

"This has been lovely," said Mary, looking around at the sunshine, green grass, and open field with the team running around on it. "How are you doing? You worked hard this morning."

"I'm tired, but I'm fine," said Rip. "And that wasn't hard work, or at least it wouldn't have been normally."

"You're doing much better, Michael," said Mary, "Look at how strong you are now."

"Yes, kittens can no longer knock me down with one paw," replied Rip, dryly.

Mary smiled. "Don't be defeatist. You can jump me home tomorrow and then it won't be long before you'll be hunting aberrations again."

"Have you noticed how ridiculously over-protective my team have become? I think I'm going to be grounded for a little while longer," said Rip.

"And that is probably quite a good thing," said Mary. "If you can't chase a football then you're not ready for chasing the bad guys, my dear boy."

"I am aware," said Rip, still watching his team. "Did you have to tell them that I can sing? You know where that's going to lead."

"Yes, you might actually have some fun," said Mary. "Goodness knows you need more of that in your life."

"I have fun," said Rip, indignantly.

"Do you really? That isn't what I've been hearing," said Mary. "You could do with listening to your friends more, you know."

"Probably, and I am trying," he admitted.

"Good," said Mary, with a smile. "Now, you should have your afternoon nap and I'll ensure that any stray footballs don't impinge upon it."

Mary rearranged the cushions on the rug so that Rip could lie down and get comfortable, patting the area she expected him to sleep on. He knew better than to argue that he wasn't tired, she'd only point out that he'd already told her that he was. He settled himself down on the rug and closed his eyes, the warm sun on his skin and the sounds of happy laughter in the background. He sighed in contentment and drifted into a doze.

He awoke later to his team returning from their game, tiredly dropping back to their seats on the rug. Some of the biscuits that he'd made the previous day were being handed around, and Mary was pouring tea into cups from a thermos. He slowly levered himself back into a sitting position.

"Hey, welcome back," said Sara.

"Who won?" asked Rip.

"I believe Sara had the longest possession of the ball," said Martin.

"But Jax got the longest pass," said Sara.

Rip frowned. "Where is Jax?"

"He went back to the ship to get a couple of things," said Sara.

"Here he comes," said Ray, with a smile.

Rip turned around to see Jax coming from the direction of the Waverider, and he was carrying something with an unmistakeable shape. Rip groaned.

"You told them where my guitar was," he said accusingly to Mary.

"We twisted her arm," said Ray.

"It was Sara's idea," said Mick, happy to drop the assassin in it.

Mary had a very amused look on her face. "Oh come on, live a little, Michael."

"There's absolutely no way that I can talk you out of this, is there?"

The assembled Legends shook their heads vigorously, with smiles on their faces, amused by his reluctance. He gave up and held out his hand for his guitar. Jax handed it to him and sat down with the rest of the team. He cast an examining eye over the instrument. It hadn't been used in months, but it wasn't in bad condition. He cradled it in his lap and ran a thumb across the strings, judging how out of tune it was, before he turned his attention to retuning the strings individually. He twisted the tuning pegs and listened carefully until he was sure that every note was as it should be.

Then he strummed experimentally, refamiliarizing himself with how it felt to play.

"Well," he said, "there really is only one thing that it seems appropriate to play."

Rip finger picked the intro to Lou Reed's "Perfect Day", moving into strumming chords in readiness for the verse, and then tentatively began to sing.

"Just a perfect day
Drink Sangria in the park
And then later
When it gets dark, we go home"

He looked up and saw that his team were all watching him with amazement, but also encouragement. He felt his voice get stronger as he continued.

"Just a perfect day
Feed animals in the zoo
Then later
A movie, too, and then home"

His fingers faltered a little as they moved into the chorus, but he doubted anyone would notice but him. He was very out of practice, but his muscle memory would carry him through most of this.

"Oh, it's such a perfect day
I'm glad I spent it with you
Oh, such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on
You just keep me hanging on

Just a perfect day
Problems all left alone
Weekenders on our own
It's such fun

Just a perfect day
You made me forget myself
I thought I was
Someone else, someone good

Oh, it's such a perfect day
I'm glad I spent it with you
Oh…"

He tailed off, with a final chord. There was more to the song, but he couldn't remember the words for the last stanza. The team clapped happily as the last notes sounded.

"That was amazing," said Jax.

"Er, thank you," said Rip. "I am somewhat out of practice, and I forgot some of the words."

"It was lovely," said Mary, "and you were fine, but it was a little sad sounding."

"How about this instead then?" asked Rip, strumming something a bit more upbeat. "If anyone wanted to join in then I wouldn't be averse to some help."

He began the intro to "Give a Little Bit" by Supertramp, somewhat faster than the previous song and rather more cheerful. He was less tentative this time and more sure of his voice.

"Give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me
I'll give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my love to you
There's so much that we need to share
So send a smile, and show you care."

He wondered if he'd picked the wrong song for a moment, but then he could see Jax tapping his fingers on his knee, and Martin was nodding along. However, it was Sara who joined in the following verse. He'd always suspected that she was into classic rock.

"I'll give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my life for you
So give a little bit
Give a little bit of your time to me
See the man with the lonely eyes
Oh, take his hand, you'll be surprised.

Oh, take it
Come along"

Then everyone else decided that if Sara could manage it then they could too, with Mick turning out to be quite an impressive bass. Ray was enthusiastic but not quite in tune. Jax had a very pleasing tone, but Martin surprised everyone with a voice like velvet.

"Give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me
Give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my life for you
Now's the time that we need to share
So find yourself, we're on our way back home

Oh, going home
Don't you need, don't you need to feel at home?
Oh, yeah, we gotta see"

Rip played the lead out's final chord and everyone collapsed in happy laughter, just from the sheer enjoyment of the moment.

"More," said Mick. "Do you know any Elvis?"

Rip gave him a small smile. "Maybe the odd song."

The Legends spent the next hour happily singing along to Rip's guitar playing, while he strummed various songs for them. They continued until Mary finally called time, reminding everyone that they needed to return to the Waverider for dinner. They packed up the picnic, rugs, cushions, football and guitar and headed home, chatting and laughing. Rip was worn out, but it wasn't the lingering fatigue of illness that had depressed him so much, it was tiredness from spending a day outside with his friends. Good tiredness.

The Waverider was ready for departure. Their first stop was the Refuge to return Mary home and then they'd give Rip a day to make sure he was really well enough to jump as normal before following up on an aberration in Boston 1773. Sara had not told Rip about the aberration yet, just in case the time jump was harder on him than they thought it would be. Mary seemed to think he'd just experience the same levels of side effects as the rest of them that hadn't been travelling through time for the last fourteen years. They'd all been coping with those for a while, so Rip could definitely manage it.

"I'm assuming that you're not going to let me drive," said Rip, as he stepped onto the bridge. He had walked there on his own, without anyone at his elbow shepherding him. Mary had officially relaxed the rules, giving Rip back his right to wander the ship as he pleased. He went to the console and was looking at the course that Gideon had plotted.

"You assume correctly. Not until Gideon's given you a final physical and declared you one hundred percent," said Sara, going over the final flight system checks with Jax.

"It's quite a way to the Refuge," said Rip, looking down at the table.

"Yup," said Sara, and frowned. There was something about his tone of voice. She stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. Rip Hunter stood before her, in his boots, dark trousers, leather jacket and long coat, his hair perfectly styled and beard trimmed. He was still too pale and thin but he looked more like himself than she'd seen him look in weeks, however something was wrong.

"Jax, can you give us a moment?" asked Sara.

Jax glanced between Sara and Rip. He frowned. "Uh, sure. I've got some systems checks to do."

Jax picked up his tablet and headed out of the room. Rip had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back on his heels, eyes firmly on the floor. He waited until Jax was definitely gone before he looked over towards Sara.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"That is what I was going to ask you," said Sara.

"Nothing," said Rip.

"Don't lie," said Sara. "I thought we were past that."

"It really isn't anything important," said Rip.

"Okay, so we've gone from "nothing" to not "anything important". I guess that's progress," said Sara, crossly.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you while you were getting ready for the jump," said Rip, taking a step back from the table and turning to go. "I'll leave you to your preparations."

"Don't you dare walk out of this room," said Sara.

Rip threw his hands up in the air and turned back around. "Fine, you want to know what the problem is. The problem is that the last time we jumped it nearly killed me, and I am… anxious. Which is ridiculous! I was a Time Master! I've time jumped hundreds of times." Rip hung his head.

Sara sighed and got to her feet. She should have seen this one coming.

"We can wait a bit longer?" she suggested.

"It won't help," said Rip, miserably. "It's been weeks already, and I can't believe that this is what I'm struggling with."

"I can't imagine that being rendered deaf and blind was fun, Rip. It's bound to affect you," said Sara, "you've got to stop being so hard on yourself. I know that Mary's really helped you this last week but you can't expect to be fine overnight."

"I know, Sara," said Rip. "And I can do this. Please, don't tell the others."

Sara felt hurt that he had to ask. "As if I would. You'll be fine. I think everyone's expecting some nerves."

Rip nodded, fidgeting with the edge of the table. "We really should get going. The waiting is just making this worse."

Sara agreed. "Gideon, could you call everyone to the bridge, please."

"Of course, Miss Lance," replied Gideon.

Rip went to take one of the seats on the second row.

"What are you doing?" asked Sara.

"Getting ready to jump," said Rip, as if Sara was being quite stupid.

"Not in that seat. Come on, you're the Captain. You can't pilot yet, but the co-pilot chair is yours. Besides, if I keep you busy you won't have time to worry about the jump," she replied.

"Oh," said Rip, with realisation. He headed for the co-pilot's chair instead. "Are you sure this is wise?"

"No, but this is what we're going to do," said Sara, turning back to the navigation console. "Just don't throw up over the electrical systems."

"I shall try to avoid that," said Rip, already checking over systems, like he'd never been away.

The other members of the team started to file onto the bridge, and Mary was the last to arrive. She gave Rip a quick squeeze on his shoulder before taking her seat, and there was nothing but pride in her eyes. Rip put a hand on hers but no words were exchanged and Sara already knew why Mary was reassuring her son. She doubted that Rip had said anything about how he felt, but Mary had demonstrated that she knew her son well and was remarkably perceptive when it came to his inner demons.

Everyone took their seats, with Jax in the engineer's chair.

"Gideon, set a course for the Refuge, please," said Sara.

"Already laid in, Miss Lance," said Gideon.

"Okay," said Sara. "Everyone strapped in?"

The team gave various affirmative responses, so Sara kicked the engines into gear and lifted the Waverider up off the ground. The secondary stabiliser was slightly underpower.

"Rip, secondary stabiliser's off," said Sara. This was possibly more Jax's area, but Rip needed the distraction.

"We have been sat idyll for quite a while," said Rip, examining the readings. "It probably just needs to run for a bit."

Sara nodded. She knew the ship well enough to agree and know that there was no danger. "Okay, keep an eye on it. I'm taking us into the temporal zone."

She glanced in his direction and saw the way that his hands were shaking as he operated the co-pilot's station, doing as she'd asked. He was working through it though. They moved into the temporal zone and she heard Rip's sharp intake of breath at the transition. She reminded herself that he was still recovering and this was still going to be unpleasant for him. His hands had dropped from the controls and he had leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, his breathing rapid.

"Hang in there," she said. She piloted them through the river of time, navigating the streams with the skills that Rip had taught her.

She reached the point that was the exit for the Refuge.

"Okay, leaving the temporal zone," she called out, making it look like it was for the benefit of everyone, but really making sure that she gave Rip a warning.

She took the Waverider out of the temporal zone and heard another small groan from Rip. She set the ship down on the green grass of the Refuge's garden, powered down and immediately turned to Rip. He had his eyes shut and was breathing too quickly.

"Rip?"

For a moment he didn't speak. Then he murmured, "I'm okay."

Sara raised the restraining bar on her seat and moved over to him, raising the restraining bar and taking his pulse. His eyes opened and he blinked. She rotated his seat so the she could crouch in front of him.

"Well, I can see," he said, blinking.

"And hear?" asked Sara, she looked up to see Mary coming over to join them.

"Yes, hear too," said Rip, "but I feel terrible and there are two of you."

"Double vision," said Mary. "Well, it could have been worse. I assume that the rest of you are fine?" She looked around at the other team members and received a series of nods.

"Can you stand?" asked Sara.

"I think I might throw up if I do," said Rip. "My stomach is quite unhappy."

"It's okay, I've got the bucket," said Ray, bringing it over. "I thought we might need it."

"Thank you," said Rip, with relief.

"Poor boy," said Mary. "Let's get you sat down in the parlour."

Sara and Mary helped Rip up and across the bridge to one of the leather armchairs in his office, while the rest of the team hovered in the doorway. He didn't need the bucket, just a moment to get his bearings after standing. His eyesight was a little off but they made sure he didn't crash into anything on the short walk.

Rip sat down heavily in the chair, and leaned back, letting out a relieved huff of breath. He just had to wait now and let the symptoms pass, normally it took a few seconds, but given that he wasn't back to full strength, it could be hours.

"How are you doing?" asked Sara.

"I'm fine, really," said Rip. "There's no need for anyone to fuss."

"Yes, yes," said Mary. "What's the point of my being here if it isn't to fuss over you."

Mary picked up the decanter that was on Rip's desk and poured enough glasses of the amber spirit inside for everyone. She handed one to each of the team, another to Rip who looked a little surprised, and kept the final one for herself.

"Am I allowed to drink this?" asked Rip, with a perplexed look at his mother.

"Sip it slowly," said Mary, "alcohol in small amounts is actually quite good for relieving the adverse symptoms of time travel. Consider it medicinal."

"I always do," said Mick, with a slight raise of his glass before he downed it in one.

Rip considered the glass for a second and then did as suggested, sipping the liquid inside cautiously.

"Jumps should get better from here," said Mary, "and you'll be back to your previous lack of symptoms in no time."

"I really hope so, I'd forgotten how annoying they could be," said Rip. "It's like being a rookie again. Ah, fond memories."

Sara smirked. This had actually gone better than expected, and keeping Rip busy had definitely been the key to getting him through this first jump after his illness. As Mary had said, things should be easier now. However, it had been a lesson in how dangerous time travel could actually be. Most of the time everyone was just amused by the various side effects, but perhaps it was useful to be reminded that jumping through time wasn't a risk-free endeavour.

The team sat around the parlour chatting and keeping Rip company while he recovered. It took about an hour before he felt up to moving, but Sara could tell that his vision hadn't quite cleared. It seemed to be good enough though that he wasn't going to bump into things. He shooed them all off to get back to work.

Everyone had things to do and they needed to return Mary to her charges who were roughly about fifteen years old at this point. The team disembarked the ship and delivered Mary and the small amount of luggage she'd brought with her back home.

Teenage Time Masters were every bit as much of a handful as they were the last time they'd seen them at around ten years old. Mary hadn't been away long, they'd brought her back only minutes after she'd left, but she still found that one of her sons had turned the music up too loud in their room and one of her daughters was hogging the games console. There was shouting and things became rather better ordered in the Refuge as Mary's presence was felt again.

"I was away for five minutes!" said Mary, with exasperation, as she made tea and brought out freshly made scones. "Honestly, the teenage years are the worst of all."

Sara caught sight of a lanky teen boy with floppy light brown hair and recognised him immediately. His arms and legs had the appearance of being too long for his body and he reminded her of a new born foal who needed to grow into his limbs. He was arguing with two of his siblings about what they should do next, but the argument stopped when they noticed that they were being observed and the group moved outside to play some form of cricket. Sara moved to the window so that she could continue to watch.

"I can't really fault my childhood here," said Rip, arriving beside her. "Mother did whatever she could to make this into a home."

"Did I just give you a new memory?" asked Sara.

Rip nodded. "I do remember seeing us having tea and you watching me. Just another one of the perils of time travel. And I have a memory of stabbing the Pilgrim too, which wasn't there before we came here the first time. I was a somewhat nicer child by this point. Mother had filed off a lot of my rough edges."

Sara smirked. "Still a few to go, Rip."

Rip gave her an amused look and a raised eyebrow. "No doubt."

"We should probably talk about getting back to work," said Sara.

"Ah, I'm allowed to discuss it now, am I?"

"I think you're ready," replied Sara. "So, we've got an aberration. Boston 1773. Probably Time Pirates again. Are you going to be able to cope with running the mission from the ship while we deal with whatever's going on?"

"Well, I did know I was going to be grounded for a bit longer. I'm sure I'll find it annoying and frustrating, but I think I'll manage until I'm back to one hundred percent fit and can re-join you in the field." Rip finished his tea.

"Good," said Sara. "It's time we got back to being Legends and we need you with us to do that."

A look passed over Rip's face, and Sara knew that he was just a little surprised by her words, but she meant them. She knew that they still had issues of teamwork to improve upon, but Rip was the one who'd brought them together, given them a purpose and set them on this adventure. He'd always be their heart and it was good to have him well again. The Legends were a family and they worked better when they were complete.

AN2: I had to draw this to a conclusion somewhere, so this is the end.

I make no apology for the fact that I have Rip singing in this. I imagine him doing a lot more things like that when he was happy with his family, but grief took all of his enthusiasm for that from him and set him on his single minded pursuit of Vandal Savage. I like to think that the team help him unwind a bit after Savage is dead and eventually he starts doing things like playing guitar again.

I have head canon of Mick singing Hurt (a la Johnny Cash) but that's for another fic.

And baking. It sort of comes out of nowhere that he spends Doomworld baking, so my thought is that Mary Xavier would never have let her children leave the Refuge without being able to cook, and Rip actually quite enjoyed it. He does seem like the type to enjoy the precision and perfection required for baking perfect cakes.