AN: My short, light-hearted break from Causality. Yeah. Short. This is set in a semi-AU season 1 universe where the whole team's together indefinitely and everyone's alive (and always will be!). This is part 1 of 2.
Thank you, Tavyn, for your wonderful feedback and letting me take you away from your on-going story!
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Sara has no idea what startled her awake.
She'd been sleeping peacefully (or as peaceful as she gets, nowadays) when she'd gone from her now rapidly-fading dream – that she can't remember – to sitting upright in bed, expecting to find some kind of threat or intruder.
Her room is pitch black, but she'd know if anyone was lurking there. She'd hear them moving or breathing – no one is as silent as Sara. Perhaps the only person who could hide from her in here would be an alternate timeline version of herself (now there's a disturbing thought simply because it's an actual possibility).
"Gideon, lights at five percent," she whispers, a direct result of her previous thought. She feels silly even as she says it, but who's going to know? Gideon won't tell on her. She hopes.
She squints against the lighting which proves there's no one in her room. Right, she knew that already. She tells Gideon to turn the lights back off, relieved at the return of the darkness.
Sara's good at coping with fear, even better at dealing with panic, and she forces her breathing to near-silence as she takes in the hum of the ship around her. She can tell they're traveling, but she has no idea where they're going. That knowledge doesn't bother her as much as it should because she's come to trust Rip…somewhat. Not fully, but enough that she believes he won't lead them to their deaths in the middle of the night.
So what had woken her?
She listens carefully for anything out of the ordinary, whether elsewhere on the ship or outside of it. She counts to ten. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred.
Nothing.
She exhales slowly and lies back down, staring up toward the ceiling that she can't see in the blackness.
Maybe it had been a nightmare that jarred her out of sleep? Those have never been rare in her life. It's odd that she doesn't remember it, though – the harder she tries, the further away it seems. It probably wasn't what woke her, either, since she's had significantly fewer nightmares since joining this team.
Eventually she allows her eyes to shut again. She's determined to get more sleep that she desperately needs. She and the others had been up for nearly two days straight on a particularly grueling mission that had involved the timeline changing a half dozen times. They'd finally stabilized things, but it had been close.
It's always close, isn't it?
No matter, they won, like usual. And now she finally gets to rest after –
Rumbling in the distance has Sara half-sitting up again. Strange. That had sounded almost like –
The ship shakes and tilts under her, enough that she slides to the opposite side of the bed and has to dig her feet into the mattress to keep from going over the edge. It takes a second to realize that can only mean one thing.
She leaps out of bed and rushes to the hallway, wincing when bright lights assault her the moment the doors to her room open (and why hasn't Rip installed some kind of dimmer system by now?). She looks up and down the corridor, but no one's out there. "Gideon, where are the alarms? We're under attack!"
"No, we are not, Ms. Lance."
Before she can question the AI, Ray steps out of his room which is further down the hall and on the opposite side. He looks around groggily before meeting her eyes. "Sara?"
"Ray, what's –"
More rumbling sounds above them, below them – completely surrounding them. The ship vibrates again, less severely this time, and Sara presses a hand to the wall.
"That sounds like thunder," Ray says.
"And feels like an earthquake," Sara adds, since they're apparently stating the obvious.
The door directly across the hall from Sara opens to reveal Leonard, rubbing his eyes and looking around in bewilderment. "Some of us are trying to sleep here. What have you all screwed up this time?" He sounds entirely unaffected given what's going on around them. Like usual.
"No one has done anything," Gideon says. "We are currently in the midst of a series of temporal storms."
"Really?!" Rays sounds way too excited and that's Sara's first hint that she's not going to like whatever a 'temporal storm' is. "I've read about those! They're incredibly rare to experience firsthand."
"Should I bother asking, or will your no doubt unbearably dull explanation cause me to fall back to sleep while standing here?" Leonard asks him.
Sara leaps in before Ray can take issue with the question – or worse, decide to start explaining. "Gideon, where's the captain?"
"On the bridge," Gideon answers.
She heads in that direction, absently listening to Ray and Leonard bickering behind her, something about crossing timelines and other things she's sure she wouldn't care about even if she heard them in clearer detail. The ship stutters once on their walk, sending her stumbling into Ray's path and he automatically grabs her shoulder to steady her.
"You're welcome," Ray says to her back when she shrugs him off, irritated that she'd needed his help at all.
She scowls at him over her shoulder and Leonard laughs. "Someone's not happy the storms woke her up."
"Shut it," she warns, "or you won't be sleeping any more tonight, either."
"Promise?" he asks, slyly.
"Oh, I promise," she swears, barely biting back her smile (she never manages to get as annoyed as she wants him to think). Ray looks back and forth between them before shaking his head slightly.
They've reached the bridge and Rip greets them cheerfully. "I see the storms roused you! Gideon and I were just conferring on the best navigational strategy to get out of them." He's at the center console with Kendra, the two of them studying what appears to be a map that keeps changing in real-time.
The only other person on the bridge is Jax, strapped into one of the chairs and clinging to the restraints as if they're the only thing keeping him alive. He doesn't look that good.
"You okay?" Sara asks, kneeling next to Jax's chair. She's painfully aware that she's hoping no one will ask her current state of well-being.
"Not exactly," he mutters. As if to prove his point, thundering in the distance is followed shortly by the ship rolling. It's weak compared to the times before, but it's enough for him to swallow hard. "I was on a class trip for a whale watch once and there was a storm and – let's say I almost jumped overboard it was so awful. This feels a hell of a lot like that."
"You fly through the air all the time, how is this bothering you?" Rip asks, somewhat callously, as if he can't possibly understand the distress of their youngest team member.
"Flying is something I can control," Jax mumbles. "This…not so much."
Sara finds it interesting that she's not the only one who's had a terrible experience at sea. "We'll be fine," she assures him, battling her own feelings of illness and unease. Her issues have little to do with their current situation and more to do with remnants left over from her near-death experience a decade earlier.
She gets unsteadily to her feet and casts a glance at Rip. He's now in deep conversation with Kendra and neither of them appear too alarmed. That has to be a good thing, right? It means they (most likely) aren't on the verge of imminent death.
Too bad she doesn't feel as safe as her rational mind is arguing that she is. She holds onto the back of Jax's chair so tightly that her knuckles turn white and she has to purposely ease her grip.
"Hey, captain," Leonard says, infusing the title with his usual mocking lack of respect and snapping his fingers at Rip, "why don't you explain what you've gotten us into?"
Sara can tell Leonard's unhappy about something – perhaps he's not as unaffected by the storms as she'd initially thought?
"The situation is not my fault," Rip insists, pointing them to the screen he's been studying, and Sara moves closer to get a better look. "We're in the middle of –"
"Who doesn't love a good temporal storm!" Mick exclaims merrily as he strolls onto the bridge, waving around a whiskey bottle.
Jax weakly raises a hand. "Uh, I don't."
"Really?" Mick asks, baffled. "I find them pretty soothing."
"It feels like we're under attack!" Sara almost shouts.
"Exactly," Mick tells her. "Isn't it fantastic? It's bringing back a lot of fond memories for me."
Sara's going to respond to that with something about how crazy he is, but the ship unexpectedly tips and she hits the edge of the center console; the pain distracts her from what she'd been about to say.
"You are crazy," Leonard tells his partner, and Sara nods in agreement as she rubs her side.
Mick shrugs and then holds up his bottle. "I also come bearing unfortunate news: thanks to the storms, I spilled most of this last bottle all over my bed."
"We're so sorry," Leonard says, sarcastically. He's copied Sara's idea and moved to the ring of chairs, holding onto the back of one of them to ensure he'll keep his balance if things get out of control again.
"I accept the condolences," Mick says, slapping his partner on the back and then going to the console to tap his nearly empty bottle on it. Repeatedly. Annoyingly. "This is going on your tab, Hunter."
"What tab?"
"My expenses! You're somewhere around…what is it now, Gideon?"
"$4,235.79."
Rip's astonished – he'd half-expected that to be a joke and not something Mick's been meticulously tracking. "What exactly do I owe you money for?"
"Well, my services are free – lucky you – but I'm passing along the costs of furnishings for my room, food and alcohol, various other amenities…"
"I don't owe you anything! Gideon provides all necessities for you to live comfortably on the ship."
"Right and I'm not talking about the basics, I'm talking about extra stuff I pay for that should be reimbursed."
"I'm not reimbursing you for drinking every night," Rip's sounding increasingly put-out.
"Well, I think I work better when I'm drinking," Mick argues, "but we can negotiate on the specifics."
"Can we discuss this another time?" Leonard asks. "I still don't understand what's going on." As if to illustrate his point, the lights start flickering.
"I already told you, it's a temporal storm," Rip explains. "Or more precisely, a series of them. They occur when the timeline changes to a new reality. The thunder you're hearing is different versions of the timeline colliding with each other while it corrects itself – it also causes temporal waves that throw the ship around. The more things were altered in the timeline, the worse the storms can get. Remember our last mission and all the changes that occurred before we could ensure a final, stable timeline? This is a direct result of that."
"Why haven't we experienced these storms before?" Sara asks.
"Like I was trying to explain to Len earlier," Ray jumps in, "they're rare and usually pretty easily avoidable. Temporal storms are essentially time waves that spread out chaotically in random directions when the timeline changes. I'd heard that they sound similar to Earth's thunderstorms, but I've never been lucky enough to hear one up close before."
Kendra's remembering an obscure fact she must have read somewhere. "I thought there was no sound in space?"
"You'd be right," Ray says cheerily, "but sound travels in the time waves. At least, that's the best theory anyone's come up with. Now, the main issue for us is that instead of being on the surface of a planet – like Earth – and hearing a storm up in the atmosphere, we're in the very space where the storms are occurring. Think of how storms and turbulence can affect airplanes."
Sara has no idea how everyone can talk about this so casually, as if there's absolutely nothing to be concerned about. "You mean how both of those things can take down airplanes?" Or yachts. She shivers at her sudden barrage of memories and catches Leonard's eye. She realizes in that moment, brief though it is, that he knows exactly what she's thinking.
"Okay, so they can occasionally take down airplanes," Ray admits, "but we're in space so the most these storms can do is toss us around for a little while. The ship's gravity function is intact, so we don't have to worry about ending up on the ceiling, at least. There's no actual danger to us at the moment." Perhaps he senses they need more reassurance. "Right, Gideon?"
"Correct, Mr. Palmer."
"Unless the ship disintegrates," Jax supplies, voice wavering slightly.
"The ship's not going to disintegrate," Ray says firmly…then less firmly, "I don't think."
"You all have to be making this up," Len says, skeptically. "I've never heard of anything like what you're talking about – I mean, temporal storms?" He directs his annoyance at Hunter. "Wouldn't this be the kind of danger you'd warn us about, oh, before we boarded your time traveling spaceship?"
"Whenever I try to talk to you about anything relating to time travel theory you just turn and walk away," Rip reminds him.
"Well…that's not exactly…alright, you may have a point," Len concedes. "In my defense, your style of explaining things is extremely dry and leaves a lot to be desired. It basically rivals Palmer's."
"Heyyy…" Ray complains, the word pretty much tapering out because he doesn't actually have anything to say in his own defense.
Rip marvels at how easily this team gets off-topic and directs them back to the subject at hand. "Mr. Palmer was correct when he said that these storms are usually easy to steer around. That's why we've never encountered one on this ship, though I have run into them occasionally in the past. As for why we're in this situation, want to tell them, Gideon?"
"In this particular instance, the ripple effects from the timeline rapidly changing so many times proved too substantial to avoid with absolute certainty," their AI explains. "Time waves are random by nature, so I had to calculate the route where we were least likely to be affected. This was the best option with a 99.3% likelihood I could evade them. Unfortunately, we fell into the .7% and I could not avoid every storm."
Sara thinks that sounds about right for their luck. "Why can't you maneuver us out of here?"
Rip answers her instead of Gideon. "Time works differently when you're caught in fluctuating space like this. We're basically in the timeline as it changes. The ship itself is built with safeguards to protect us from time anomalies, but we can't just…fly away, so to speak. While the ship can technically escape the area in what is objectively just a few minutes, since we are caught within time that is swiftly adjusting to its final state, it will feel like hours to us. Until it's over, we'll be feeling the effects off and on, mostly in waves."
Tremors from the storm cause the floor to vibrate under Sara's stocking-clad feet, but she's too distracted by Rip's explanation to even register the sensation. "Hours?"
Rip's reluctance to continue is evident in the way he hesitates and then speaks abnormally slowly. "Yes, well… Anywhere from two to…ten hours?"
"Ten hours!" Sara looks around for something she can throw at him – too bad everything is bolted down.
"Only an estimate," he says quickly, sensing her growing anger. "It will probably be substantially less than that. All we can do is wait."
"Do I even want to hear an explanation about why it will feel like hours when it's technically only a few minutes to get us out of here?" Len asks.
"No," Ray says, "probably not. Unless you want to devote the rest of your night to delving into general relativity theories as they relate to space-time? I recently read a fascinatingly speculative article –"
"I'm good," Len interrupts. "As scary as this may be, I'm actually going to take your word for it."
"And you guys are sure that the ship can handle this kind of stress?" Kendra's clearly worried, especially after Jax's earlier suggestion about 'disintegration'.
"Oh, most definitely," Rip says. "I mean, think of what we've gone through already in this ship. Yes indeed, the Waverider is as sturdy as –" he breaks off when the ship veers to the side and there's the distinct sound of metal bending. Sara nearly falls into Jax's lap, but manages to grab the edge of the center console at the last second.
"Sturdy, you say?" She looks over at Leonard, the two of them silently asking each other how much they trust that the ship isn't going to literally fall apart around them. Len nods slightly, as if to confirm Rip and Ray's assertions, and Sara instantly feels better. (She shouldn't, because he's obviously less informed on this topic than the others, but she can't deny his reassurance eases her mind – even if it's only because he trusts that the other two aren't lying to them about the possible danger they're in.)
"We haven't died yet," Rip tells them, as if that fact alone is all their team needs to stop worrying about the storms.
The lights blink off and on again.
"Oh yeah," Leonard says, "that's giving me complete confidence in the stability of the ship. Surely the wiring being affected isn't a substantial problem."
"Minor technical glitch," Rip waves him off. "We might have to deal with a few more before the storms end."
"A few more?" Kendra repeats, warily.
"Fluctuations in the lights, gravity, life support systems…" Rip looks around expectantly, disappointed in their unamused expressions. "Really, people, that last one was a joke!"
Len stares at their captain. "We might suffocate? You're right, Hunter, that's hilarious."
"Actually, the lack of oxygen could make us euphoric to the point that we think everything is hilarious," Ray informs them. "You know, until we pass out. And die."
"What?!" Jax throws his head back against the seat.
Sara knows better than to dwell on that insanely terrifying possibility. "And we'll have to deal with hours of this?" She already knows the answer, she's just hoping it might change this time around.
Rip glances at the continuously changing map in front of him. "I'm afraid so."
Leonard wonders if there's anything that could make things easier on them. "Gideon, can't you buffer us from the effects of the storms?"
"I already am, Mr. Snart."
Oh, Sara thinks, that's just perfect. And now she's curious... "What would it feel like if you weren't?"
"You would not find it pleasant," Gideon states.
"What makes you think we find this pleasant?" Len demands.
Gideon must not appreciate his attempt at humor. "I can temporarily allow you to feel the real effects if you'd prefer?"
"Hell yeah!" Mick yells enthusiastically.
"No!" Rip, Sara, and Kendra shout simultaneously.
"I think this is it," Jax wheezes, as Kendra squeezes his shoulder in quiet sympathy. "Tell my mom I love her and that I went out a hero, okay?"
"You –" Len points at him, "– have lived through much worse than this. And I don't mean as Firestorm, I mean dealing with these people on a daily basis for over a year now."
"Yourself included?" Jax shoots back, almost smiling, before suddenly seeming stricken. "Oh no, was his joke slightly funny or am I becoming hypoxic? Gideon, are the oxygen levels falling?"
"The oxygen levels are normal," Gideon reports.
"Take deep breaths, kid," Mick advises. "Try to enjoy as much air as you can before everything goes sideways."
Rip presses his palms into his eyes as if maybe he can erase their presence if he tries hard enough. "Mr. Rory, if you could refrain from –"
"Don't get me wrong," Mick cuts him off, "things going sideways is always the best part of my week. If the rest of you learned to enjoy it as much as I do, you'd have a lot more fun around here."
Leonard can't hide his amusement as he and Mick share a knowing look. His next question is addressed to their team as a whole: "What should we do for the next…ten hours?"
"You could drink," Mick suggests, holding up his now empty bottle – he'd finished it off over the course of their conversation.
"It's…" Sara realizes she doesn't actually know the time.
"1:37 am," Leonard supplies, knowing exactly what she'd wanted to say.
"You see?" Mick asks rhetorically. "The night is still young."
Rip sends him another disapproving look – he might as well make it his permanent expression for the night (or week, or month, or…eternity). "You all have three options: strap yourselves in on the bridge like Mr. Jefferson; go wait it out in your rooms, since lying down will make you less prone to feeling the effects of the storms; or head to the Med Bay and allow Gideon to sedate you."
"Sedation?" Leonard finds that a rather drastic alternative. "That's one of your actual suggestions? To drug us?"
Mick's intrigued. "What kind of drugs are we talking here?"
"You know, it's not sounding that bad to me," Jax mutters.
Sara actually considers it, too. At least if she's unconscious, she won't have to deal with the unease. Or the fear. Or the…memories.
Kendra's apparently chosen the most optimistic route and tries to convince them (and herself) this isn't so bad. "A few storms aren't going to hurt us. We'll be fine."
"I might believe you if those very storms weren't throwing the ship around like we're a tennis ball in the middle of a match," Jax complains as he tries to undo the restraints on his seat, but they won't release. "What the hell?"
Everyone watches him struggle for a few moments before Rip ventures, "Uh, did I forget to mention that Gideon recently reported that the chairs need new harness mechanisms? They can turn finicky if the ship is overly jostled."
"Finicky?" Kendra arches an eyebrow.
Rip looks rather uncharacteristically sheepish. "As in…they might stop working correctly."
"Now you tell us?!" Jax explodes, yanking ineffectually at the harness. It really is jammed. Sara quickly dismisses the vague notion she'd had of sitting out here with him for the duration.
"How cheaply was this ship made?" Leonard asks, somewhat concerned.
"We might have gone with a bidder on the lower end," Rip mutters.
"That's reassuring," Mick says, as he starts kicking the console and then one of the seats, seeing if he can dislodge them. When Rip watches him aghast, he shrugs. "Can't blame me, can you?"
"It just needs a little routine maintenance, that's all. Mr. Jefferson, put that on your to-do list for the next time we dock."
Jax can't believe that the captain has the audacity to give such an order when he's the one stuck in a chair. "Does it feel like the walls are closing in?" he asks, taking a few deep breaths (Sara's afraid he's going to start hyperventilating).
"Hold on," Rip tries to calm him as he enters his office and starts rummaging around. "We might have to…force you out."
"Force me out?" Jax gives up on trying to release the restraints and attempts to slide under them. It doesn't work at all. "Yeah, I'm definitely opting for sedation now!"
Sara tries to help him out of the seat, but Rip wasn't kidding – the mechanism is stuck fast and all the pulling in the world isn't going to unjam it. When Rip returns, she backs away from Jax's chair to give him room to work.
Mick decides to take advantage of Rip's distraction. "How about this – you don't have to reimburse me for my spilled bottle if you replace it. You just restocked your office, right?" He's already standing in the doorway of said office and Sara's mostly shocked that he appears to be waiting for permission to enter.
"Fine, whatever," Rip answers, not even looking back at him as Mick disappears and they hear him raiding the room.
"Len, Sara, you want anything?" Mick calls, as they both tell him they're fine.
Jax obviously isn't. "You don't offer anything to the poor guy literally locked into a chair in this tin can death trap of a ship? Thanks a lot!"
Mick reappears in the doorway of the office just as the ship lurches and he presses his arm against the doorframe without otherwise reacting – he doesn't seem bothered by the motion at all. (In fact, if Sara's not mistaken, his eyes increasingly light up every time the ship does that.) "Are you even old enough to drink, kid?"
"How long have we been working together and you don't even know my age?" Jax complains. "Yes, I'm old enough to drink."
"You sure? 'Cause you look about 15."
"You think I forgot my own birthday?"
"I'm just saying – I don't care how old you are, but I don't want to deal with any of the others bitching to me about 'rules' and 'laws'. Like your other fiery half, for instance. And what's he always going on about? Brain development? Though, like I told him, I started drinking at age twelve and I turned out fine. In fact, I think it helped me."
"Twelve?" Sara can't have heard him right.
"Yeah, it's a little crazy," Mick admits. "I started later than a lot of my friends."
"Are we comparing disastrous childhoods now?" Leonard asks. "Because I think I could win this contest hands down."
Sara's mostly sad about the turn the conversation's taken and she's eager for a way to change topics. On that note, something Mick said makes her realize… "Hey, where is Stein, anyways?"
"The professor is sleeping in his quarters," Gideon informs them. "He's been experimenting with the gravity controls in his room and is protected from most of the instability that you are currently experiencing."
"You can't extend whatever he did out here?" Sara's found a new reason to be annoyed.
"That would necessitate turning off the ship's gravity altogether while Professor Stein inputs his equations to overwrite my central processor. The new protocol could take anywhere from a few hours to several days to implement. An easier solution would be for everyone to seek refuge in his room."
"He has the smallest room of any of us," Kendra points out. It had been a decision Stein made way back when they'd formed their team, insisting the size of his room mattered little to him. "I don't think we'd fit."
Sara has to agree it would never work, and not just because of the room's size. "All of us together for the night? Yeah, there's no way."
"I'd need to be much drunker than I already am," Mick says.
"Hey, any of you would be lucky to have me for the entire night," Len tells them. "Never mind all of you getting to enjoy my company at once."
"Yeah, we'd be kicking you out first," Jax mutters. Rip's still trying to undo his harness and has taken to slamming a wrench against the edge of it in frustration. The repeated clanging echoes throughout the room, drowning out the sounds of the storms.
"I vote to let the professor sleep through it, especially where he's been lucky enough that the storms haven't bothered him," Sara submits, as the others voice their agreement. It seems settled, then, that everyone is going to work things out for the rest of the night on their own.
Leonard considers what Gideon said about Stein's room – he understands if it's protected from most effects of the storm, but how has he not woken up even once? "Are you sure he's just sleeping and not dead, Gideon?"
"He is very much alive," Gideon confirms.
When the others look at him in mute horror, Leonard holds up his hands in a 'can you blame me?' gesture. "I'm just saying, he's not exactly in his youth. Who knows what this storm might have done to him…like a shock to his system or something."
"You're one to talk about age since you're not far behind him," Kendra says smartly, as Leonard turns to her in mock outrage.
"Take that back!" he orders. "I'll have you know that I've been told I could pass for 30."
"When did someone last tell you that?" Jax challenges. "2005?"
When the others start laughing, Leonard scowls at them. "I hate you all."
"Pay them no mind, partner," Mick declares. "With age comes wisdom."
"As if you two are so much 'wiser' than me, or whatever," Jax scoffs.
"Who's the person stuck in a chair right now?" Mick asks pointedly, before heading back into Rip's office.
"This was purely bad luck," Jax insists, thrashing about in the chair – he nearly hits Rip in the head and the captain glares at him. "This could have happened to anyone!"
"And yet it didn't," Len says, smugly.
Sara doesn't have an issue with anything he's said, but sometimes she feels he has to be taken down a peg, if only to keep his ego in check. "As if you're impervious to accidents around here? I happen to recall someone getting stuck in the weapons room last week."
"Gideon locked me in there out of spite because I threatened to reboot her," Leonard alleges, "and everyone knows it."
"I do not have emotions and therefore do not operate under them," Gideon claims and Sara isn't sure whether to believe her or not – the AI sounds oddly as if she's enjoying this conversation.
"Liar," Len mutters.
"I cannot lie," Gideon insists.
"What if that, in itself, is a lie?" Ray asks, curious.
"It is not," Gideon replies.
"Would you tell us if it were?" Len asks.
Gideon hesitates a beat too long. "I do not understand the question."
"Aha! There's my proof. I'm onto you, Gideon."
Perhaps tellingly, Gideon doesn't reply.
"Gideon is programmed to tell the truth." Rip's annoyed tone reveals that he's been repeating the same argument to Leonard for quite some time. He finally frees the stuck mechanism on Jax's seat and the younger man jumps out of the chair as if it's on fire.
"The truth as she sees it," Leonard clarifies.
"Can't you ever accept that you're wrong?" Sara asks.
Len thinks about that before conceding, "Sure…if I ever were."
"You are so –" Sara breaks off when the ship abruptly reels. The motion sends her backwards and since there's nothing close enough to grab onto, she hits the floor hard. It's more embarrassing than anything else…not that most of the others are able to deal with the wave better than her. Rip desperately grabs the chair he just freed Jax from, Jax and Kendra clutch each other to stay upright, and Ray stumbles over to sit in one of the seats, though he doesn't strap himself in. Leonard and Mick are the least troubled – Len uses the back of the chair he's already holding to keep his balance, and Mick…well Mick just kind of sways with the ship and, if possible, his grin grows even wider. He doesn't drop even one of the five bottles he's 'liberated' from Rip's office.
"What were you saying, Lance?" Leonard asks. "I couldn't hear over the sound of you falling oh-so-gracefully to the floor."
She cautiously starts to get to her feet. "I was saying that –" The ship jerks again and she falls back to her knees. "God damn it!"
She's getting really sick of this and it's been what, twenty, thirty minutes? It's like a constant series of earthquake aftershocks with no end in sight. The worst part is how the intensity is constantly changing, from mild enough that it's a slight annoyance to strong enough that it'll easily pitch her into a wall if she isn't prepared for it. She contemplates staying on the floor for the rest of the night, but the thought of – oh God, ten hours on the cold floor of the bridge is not enticing whatsoever.
Len must see her struggle since he takes a few steps over to her (of course the ship stays put when he decides to move) and holds out his hand. Instead of insisting she's fine, she gratefully takes it. "You're a contrarian, Leonard. That's what I was trying to say."
"Uh huh, sure it was." His tone is disbelieving, but he smiles as he helps her to her feet.
"You can't prove otherwise." The floor vibrates and she grips his arm too tightly, expecting to lose her balance again. It's only a minor tremor, though, and she curses her overreaction. To her surprise, he doesn't make fun of her for it.
He places her firmly between himself and the nearest chair. "I can see you're having trouble, Lance."
"What are you doing? I'm perfectly capable of –" A crash of thunder drowns out the rest of her words as the ship rocks again (they must be in an exceptionally rough patch since this is the closest together the waves have come all night). Sara flinches and expects to be thrown across the room…but nothing happens. She doesn't go anywhere because Leonard had put his arms around her at the last second, taking hold of the seat in front of her and bracing them both, essentially insulating her from the effects of that wave.
Alright, maybe his methods have merit after all.
For the first time since she woke up, she actually feels okay…as if she's safe and the storms aren't out to get her, personally. It's nice to not be worried about getting seriously injured in a freak accident caused by (of all things) a temporal storm.
"I think the phrase you're looking for is 'thank you'," he says, when it's over. "I understand that it doesn't come naturally to you."
"Ha. Ha," she says dryly, tipping her head back to look up at him. "Thank you."
He smirks down at her. "Did that physically pain you to say?"
"It just might have," she admits, but it's only playful. She and Leonard actually get along pretty well after a year on this team. They're friendlier with each other than almost anyone else on the ship, which is saying a lot when they've all become pretty close…to the point that Sara's started thinking this is where she belongs. Like maybe it's always been where she was supposed to end up.
He lowers his voice, maybe so the others can't hear. "You know, I was kidding. You don't actually have to thank me for anything."
Her heart clenches in the way it always does when he says things like that. He cares about her – about all of them – so much. It pains her when other people don't realize it, choosing instead to believe that his acerbic, sarcastic exterior is reflective of the man he truly is. Sure, a lot of that is his own fault, a preemptive attempt at keeping other people away, but she sees right through him…she always has. And she's immensely grateful for his concern – for him in general, really. (In fact, she often wonders how long she would have lasted on this ship without him, especially in the early days.)
She leans back against him, hoping (as always) that he'll understand her silent thanks and appreciation. In answer, he moves his hands closer together on the chair in front of them, which means he's effectively holding her a little tighter.
Rip's taken Jax's former seat and is studying the mangled seatbelt mechanism with growing dismay. "Yes, well, I suppose we'll have to repair this –"
"You suppose?" Kendra interrupts.
"– when we land." Rip sends her a stern look.
"If we land," Mick says ominously, just to get a rise out of Jax. He's scanning the haul he took from their captain when Jax seizes a bottle at random.
"I earned this," Jax announces, in a tone that dares anyone to challenge him. When no one does, he takes a swig from the bottle and starts coughing and choking. "What is this? Fire?"
"That's fireball whiskey," Mick tells him, "and it's not even that strong."
"Did Rip happen to have any nice rosés in there? Perhaps a white zinfandel?"
Mick's very close to appalled. "You make me ashamed of the American educational system. If nothing else, high school should have taught you which alcohols get you drunk the fastest." He eyes Jax almost accusingly. "Don't tell me you were the type who went to most of your classes."
Jax ignores his semi-lecture in favor of arguing, "Wines have a sweet, fruity taste. Who doesn't enjoy that?"
"Come on," Mick tells him, as he hands Jax a couple of the bottles, "I'll show you a much better form of sedation than what Gideon has in mind." The two of them leave, presumably off to try everything they've found (and in liberal enough amounts that in the morning they'll wish they hadn't).
Rip and Ray start discussing the nature of temporal storms and how much longer this batch might last. Rip thinks they could stretch out well into the late morning, but Ray thinks that since the waves are arriving faster (and stronger) than earlier, that means they're moving through the worst of it. He predicts four or five more hours, tops.
"Oh, is that all?" Leonard sighs, breath stirring her hair.
"I'll take it over ten," she mutters.
No sooner has she spoken than thunder crashes and the ship moves so violently that Sara swears it's about to tip them all onto the ceiling (which technically shouldn't be possible since there is no up or down in space and it's just the artificial gravity of the ship that makes them feel as if they're right side up). Nevertheless, the chaotic movement of the ship gets so intense that Sara wonders if they might actually be in danger despite what the others have claimed. Even with Leonard behind her, they both almost can't hold onto the chair. Kendra ends up on the floor, Rip and Ray soon joining her when they're thrown from their seats, neither having wanted to risk using the restraints after Jax.
Sara thinks the best course of action is probably to give up and get down on the floor with them, since sitting would be easier, but the shaking's crazy enough that she and Len would probably get hurt if they tried it right now. She struggles to remain standing as Leonard steps back with his left foot and moves his right forward, in between her feet, to anchor them both.
She knows this wave can't last forever, but while they're in it, it feels like a lifetime. All she can think about is the last moments before the Queen's Gambit sank beneath the waves. Suddenly she's back there, knowing she's going to die and there's nothing she can do about it.
It was the first time in her life that she'd felt completely and hopelessly alone. There have been other times since, but that time was the first, and thus it will always be seared into her mind as the most horrific.
Only there's a difference between then and now – right now she's not alone. She feels Leonard behind her, his arms still around her, closer than before. She looks down and sees their hands on the back of the chair, hers on the inside, his on the outside.
He's talking to her, too, and she only processes some of the words. Something about this being exciting and fun, like a roller coaster. She wants to hit him, or laugh, or scream. Maybe all of those at once.
Despite the intensity of what's happening around them, she's able to respond with, "Sure, it's like a ride – where we might die."
Somehow, Rip happens to hear her in between the loud thundering outside the ship. "We are not going to die!"
"No, we're not," Leonard agrees. They hold on for another minute until things gradually subside. The stillness and silence left in the aftermath makes the space around them feel eerily unnatural. Sara remains tense until Len relaxes behind her, carefully exhaling, and she takes it as a signal that she's safe to do the same. Despite the imminent threat being over, he doesn't let go of her.
(Yes, this time it's him that makes all the difference.)
She gives a fleeting thought to Mick and Jax, hoping they got through that wave without getting hurt…or losing all their precious alcohol.
Rip says (from the floor), "Perhaps it's not the best idea for us to be out here, lots of things we could injure ourselves on."
"You think, captain?" Kendra grumbles, her tone sounding far too close to the way Leonard addresses Rip when he's extra-annoyed. She rubs her head where she'd hit the side of the console. Luckily it had been a glancing blow and wasn't serious.
"Is everyone okay?" Ray asks, as they all nod.
Rip makes it over to the captain's chair and pulls the harness down. "I guess I can risk this when the alternative is serious injury." He waves his wrench around. "Also, I have this to pry myself out if needed."
"You're staying on the bridge?" Ray questions. "Is that wise?"
"As the captain, it's my duty to monitor things until these storms blow over, and it's easiest to do that from out here. Does anyone want to keep me company?"
"Gotta get back to my room," Ray says, jumping to his feet and making a beeline for the exit.
Sara nods in enthusiastic agreement. "Good idea, I think I'll be heading back to bed, too."
"I'll stick around for a little while," Kendra says, taking one of the seats. She's been having thoughts about maybe wanting to become a captain someday. "You and Gideon can teach me more about these storms."
Len's the last to speak. "I think I'll stay out here, too."
"Really?" Rip sounds worried.
"No," Len shakes his head, much to their captain's relief, "not really. I'm going back to my room to sleep this entire nightmare away. No one wake me unless we really are under attack, and even then, only if you need me as a last resort."
He finally steps away from Sara, dropping his arms, and it stuns her how suddenly bereft she feels. Her world turns strangely cold as all her worries, fears, and past memories come rushing back – and it's crazy because that night is a decade behind her; she'd gotten past it long ago.
Hadn't she?
Okay, she thinks, as the ship shakes around them again, maybe not.
XXXXXX