A Calculation of Entropy
Disclaimer: I don't own Legends of Tomorrow or make any money from this.
AN2: This is set somewhere between S1 and S2 in the six months that the Legends are fixing aberrations before New York. I decided that the world needs more Rip-whump, because the guy clearly hasn't been put through enough. Also I need more Rip-fic in my life, and I'm really missing Legends now we're between series. I was so very disappointed by the end of S2.
"Men in rage strike those that wish them best." – Shakespeare
This was going to be the mission where nothing went wrong. Sara had promised him that everyone had been properly briefed and no one was going to do anything stupid, like use their powers in public or seduce anyone. They would get through this mission with the timeline restored rather than more damaged.
Of course, it didn't happen like that, because it never did and Rip had no idea why he'd even entertained the idea that it might.
It had come to the Legends' attention that someone was selling futuristic weapons to people that shouldn't have even been entrusted with weapons appropriate to their period. They'd been chasing this particular individual for a couple of weeks now, always one step behind him and everyone was getting a bit frustrated. He was going by the ominous name of Zero Hour, and something about that was making Rip especially concerned because he felt he should know why he'd chosen that particular name, but couldn't quite place it.
Today was going to be the day that they caught him, because they'd finally tracked down a weapons buy between Zero Hour and the IRA in 1982. Rip didn't like the way the timeline looked if the IRA gained more power in Ireland at this point, so it was definitely something that they needed to stop. Which was why they now found themselves wearing clothes appropriate for a terrorist cell in the 1980s and shivering in a cold, damp warehouse in Belfast, on a February morning.
They were posing as the IRA contingent, having removed them from the equation by stunning them and locking them in the Waverider's brig temporarily. They wouldn't remember any of it and would be returned to the timeline as soon as was possible following the arms sale. Rip was pretending to be the head of this IRA cell, with Sara and Mick as his backup. The only flaw with this plan had been the Mr Rory couldn't manage any kind of Irish accent and Sara could only do something which was more Republic of Ireland than Northern Ireland. This left Rip to do all the talking, and whilst he could do the accent, his turn of phrase left a bit to be desired.
The rest of the team were hidden out of the way, and waiting his signal to take down the bad guys.
The arms dealer arrived in a large truck, which disgorged a number of burly looking men. They still didn't know if any of these men were Zero Hour.
"Good morning," he found himself saying to the man who had arrived with the guns, and then wondered if that sounded weird in a Northern Irish accent. "Which one of you is Zero Hour?"
The men looked at each other with a smirk. Then the leader stepped forwards.
"The boss doesn't come out for the small deals," said their leader. His accent was so thick that Rip had to concentrate to understand him, and his heart sank. Of course he should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
Then the leader looked him up and down. "And you're not Daniel Fillan." The other men he'd brought with him were toting semi-automatic weapons and Rip could see them move to a more alert status at their leaders' words.
"Change of plans," said Rip, going for bravado. Behind him Sara and Mick had stiffened, but were waiting for him to indicate that it was time to fight. He didn't think this was a completely lost cause yet, but it was getting close. "No deal unless Zero Hour shows in person."
"Then there's no deal," said the Irishman.
"Seems a shame when there's money to be made," replied Rip.
"Yeah, I'm more interested in who you are," he said, putting a hand on the gun at his side.
"Someone who wants to buy some weapons," said Rip, posturing with as much confidence as he could muster.
"Someone's been disrupting Zero's sales and the fact you're here and Daniel isn't is one coincidence too many," said the man. "Zero has a good idea of who's been causing the trouble and if you're him… Well, let's just say I've got something special for you."
The man reached into his pocket and suddenly Sara was leaping in front of him and taking on the bad guys with her usual flair. She was swiftly followed by Mr Rory, getting out his gun and burning things.
"Oh bollocks," said Rip, and grabbed his gun. He fired towards their opponents, whilst making a run for cover. The leader had taken whatever it was out of his pocket now, and, as was typical of his luck today, had launched it in Rip's direction. It proved to be a smoke bomb, and suddenly Rip was coughing up a lung as he accidentally took a deep breath laden with smoke.
He moved back, as Ray and Firestorm entered the fight and went to town on the weapons shipment. It didn't take them long to destroy the entire thing, which exploded in a ball of fire that was sure to draw the attention of local law enforcement, and really anyone with a pair of ears. The men who had accompanied it were either scattering or down, some with rather nasty burns. Rip was still coughing from the smoke grenade, as he headed towards Sara's position.
"Well that was frustrating," said Sara, her sticks still drawn and her guard up. "I got the impression that he was suspicious from the start, and no Zero."
Rip coughed, bending over to catch his breath. "Indeed. It looks like we've destroyed the shipment anyway."
What was left of the truck was on fire and Mick was roasting it with a disturbing gleam in his eyes.
Rip tapped his radio. "We're done here. Regroup back at the Waverider."
He holstered his pistol since there was no one left to fight, and began the walk back to the Waverider with Sara at his side. Firestorm zoomed overhead and landed neatly beside him, splitting back into its two constituents.
"What the hell, dude?" asked Jax. "Did he make us?"
"It would seem so," said Rip, just as Ray also came in to land beside them.
"How is that possible?" asked Martin.
"I have no idea," replied Rip.
"Well, at least Mick got to have some fun," said Ray. "Hey!" he called back towards Mick. "Time to head home."
Mick looked like he didn't particularly want to leave, but with a final blast from his flame gun he gave up and walked back in their direction.
"So, what next?" asked Martin.
"I think we need to do some more research into who Zero Hour actually is," said Rip. "He seems to be better informed about us than we are about him, and I think it's time we corrected that."
"Okay," said Ray. "I guess we hit the library."
The Legends headed home.
Rip sneezed, and then blew his nose. The warehouse had been very cold and there had been a lot of waiting, so Sara wasn't that surprised that one of them had managed to catch something.
The two of them were poring over the scraps of relevant data that they'd collected together in the newly completed library. Sara had been looking at the files Gideon carried on every Time Pirate that the Time Masters had ever come across. The others were taking a break, or had other tasks to complete. Mick had declared that he was heading to the kitchen as soon as they'd got back to the Waverider and not been seen since.
"Are you coming down with a cold?" asked Sara.
Rip frowned. "I doubt it." He didn't look up from the book that he currently had open.
"You doubt it?"
"I haven't had a cold since I was a child. The Time Masters vaccinate all their Captains against the common cold and quite a lot of other things," said Rip.
"Wait, there's a vaccination against the common cold and you never mentioned it until now?" asked Sara, with annoyance.
"No, there was for Time Masters. I couldn't very well give it to you though. You will probably want to return to your own time at some point and it would irrevocably contaminate the timeline if anyone ever discovered that you had been vaccinated successfully against the common cold. You'll just have to make do with Gideon's antiviral database to combat any colds," said Rip, and sneezed again.
Sara sighed. "It would have been nice to have at least been aware."
Rip sniffed, and turned a page.
"Maybe it's allergies?" asked Sara, innocently.
Rip looked up at her with annoyance. "What would I be allergic to on my own ship? And why the sudden concern for my health?"
"It's not sudden concern. You're sniffling and sneezing. Go to the medbay and get Gideon to give you one of those antivirals." Sara was trying to sound reasonable. She didn't need Rip ignoring her advice because he was being his usual stubborn self.
"I'm fine," said Rip, but spoiled his bravado by coughing.
"Sure you are." Sara leaned over and closed the book that Rip had been reading. "Go on. Gideon can fix you up and then you can get back to work."
Rip gave Sara a cross look and let out a resigned sigh. "Fine." He got wearily to his feet, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
"I'll come with you," said Sara, suddenly wondering if Rip would actually get there if she didn't.
"No, keep working," he said.
"It won't take long," said Sara.
"You are, of course, free to do what you want," said Rip, with his best passive aggressive tone. Sara was getting used to this by now and hardly paid it any attention.
The two Legends walked down the corridor with Rip occasionally sneezing as they went, and wiping at his nose with his handkerchief. They entered medbay and Rip took a seat in the chair furthest from the door with some reluctance.
"This is really quite unnecessary," he said.
"Yeah. Scan him, Gideon. He's got a cold," said Sara, ignoring Rip.
"Yes, Ms. Lance," said Gideon, and Rip rolled his eyes at Sara's pronouncement as the blue light played over his body.
"Actually, he appears not to have a cold," said Gideon.
"I did say that," pointed out Rip to Sara.
"He seems to have influenza. A variety which is not in my database," said Gideon. "Unfortunately, that means that you are about to become quite unwell, Captain Hunter, and I do not have an antiviral to combat it. I would suggest that you rest, drink plenty of fluids and take painkillers as required. You will probably be most comfortable in your quarters and it is unlikely that you will need the services of medbay. It should run its course in a couple of days."
Rip groaned. "Great, just what I needed."
Sara just gave him an "I told you so" look. "You'll be fine. Just do what Gideon says and you'll feel better in a couple of days. Come on, I'll walk you back to your quarters."
She grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the cupboard and handed them to Rip, whose shoulders had noticeably slumped.
"I don't feel that bad," said Rip, as they headed out of medbay and towards his quarters. "We still know almost nothing about Zero Hour. I can keep working until I actually get properly sick."
"And spread this thing all around the ship? Yup, that sounds like a good idea," said Sara. "You're much better off going to your quarters and resting."
"I suppose we could compromise on me working in my quarters," replied Rip.
Sara suspected that Rip was putting up a good front and was actually feeling worse than he was letting on, because normally he'd have argued harder about something like this.
"Okay, I can live with that, but if you start feeling worse, go to bed," said Sara.
"I think I can manage to look after myself, Sara," he replied.
"Yeah, you say that, but you're the one that has to be reminded to stop work and eat," said Sara.
"That only happened once," replied Rip, as they reached the door to his room.
"That I'm aware of," said Sara.
Rip hit the door opener and headed into his quarters, with a harrumph instead of a reply. Then he turned back towards her as something of an afterthought.
"Sara, you're in charge until I'm back on my feet."
"Me?" she asked, with some incredulity.
"Can you think of anyone better?"
Sara shrugged. She didn't really see any of them in a leadership role apart from Rip.
"That's decided then," said Rip.
"I'll come back and check on you later," said Sara.
"Yes, yes," said Rip, with a wave of a hand, already heading for his desk and books. "Don't put yourself out on my account. I'm sure I'll just sleep this off." He coughed.
"Well, shout if you need anything in the meantime, or get Gideon to shout for you."
"Of course," said Rip, and Sara would have bet her favourite set of knives that he had no intention of doing any such thing. He was too stubborn to admit he might need help. She gave a shake of her head, and left him to his reading.
Rip actually felt pretty terrible, he was not used to being ill. The sneezing and coughing were ridiculously annoying and the headache that was forming behind his eyes was making it hard to concentrate. The temperature in his quarters seemed to be colder than it was normally too and he shivered. He wrestled with the top of the bottle of painkillers and shook a couple out onto his hand. He stood to get a glass of water and found that he wobbled slightly, but managed to reach the jug of water that he kept in his quarters and pour himself a glass. He downed the pills.
"Gideon," said Rip. "I'm guessing that I'm running a temperature."
"Confirmed, Captain," replied Gideon.
His joints were aching now. "I think maybe you were right before, and I'll just go to bed."
He divested himself of his boots, coat and jacket, far more slowly than he usually did, leaving them hung over the back of a chair.
"Could you increase the temperature of my quarters by two degrees, please, Gideon?"
"Yes, Captain," said Gideon.
Rip climbed into bed and wrapped himself in the covers as he shivered and coughed.
"Everyone report to the bridge," came Sara's voice. "I think we've found something."
Rip groaned, shoving off the covers and pulling on his jacket. He pushed himself to his feet and pretended that he didn't feel quite as horrible as he actually did. He pushed his feet into his boots and headed out of his room with a rambling gait. He stopped to lean against the wall just as Sara came around the corner with Ray and Jax.
"What are you doing?" asked Sara.
"Dude, you look like crap," said Jax.
"Thank you, Mr Jackson, I'm aware that I am not at my best. Apparently this is what having the 'flu looks like, and to answer your question, Ms. Lance, I'm on my way to report to the bridge."
"Like hell you are," said Sara.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Ray chipped in.
"Get back to bed," said Sara. "The 'flu isn't something you just push through."
"I'm beginning to understand that," said Rip, rather miserably.
"Are you saying that you've never had the 'flu before?" asked Jax.
"I don't ever remember having it," said Rip. "I definitely had colds as a child."
"You're of no use to anyone like this," said Sara, with one of her best disapproving looks. "What on earth possessed you to even get out of bed?"
"Force of habit. To be honest, I didn't realise I felt this bad," said Rip.
"Come on," said Ray, moving towards him, "I'll take you back to your quarters."
Rip gave a defeated nod, as Ray quite gently took his arm to help him.
"And no trying to get up until you feel better," said Sara.
"Yes, ma'am," said Rip, wryly.
Sara ignored him and she and Jax continued on towards the bridge.
"This is really quite inconvenient," said Rip, with annoyance. "Zero Hour is not going to wait for me to be well before carrying out his next arms deal."
"You can't do much about the 'flu," said Ray, as he helped Rip back towards his quarters.
"Normally Gideon would have been able to cure it," said Rip, "but for some reason she doesn't have an anti-viral for this one."
"That's a little strange, isn't it?" asked Ray. Gideon could cure most things.
"Nor necessarily. There are probably millions of potential combinations of 'flu virus. I was just supremely unlucky," said Rip, and coughed pitifully. He was trying to ignore the fact that his muscles felt like they were made of rubber and sewing needles. Each step was becoming more painful and he was very glad to have Ray to lean on.
"Hmm, I guess that does make sense," said Ray, but Rip got the impression that Ray wasn't entirely convinced, although he wasn't exactly sure what he wasn't convinced by.
They reached the door to Rip's quarters and Gideon opened it for them without Rip needing to do anything. Ray got him to the bed and Rip sat down heavily.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.
"I'll be fine. I'm just going to sleep and hope that this thing burns itself out quickly," said Rip.
"Good idea. Right, let Gideon know if you need us," said Ray, and disappeared out of the door and towards the bridge.
Rip sighed, removed his jacket once again and this time decided that since he wasn't going anywhere he might as well be comfortable. He exchanged his work clothes for his pyjamas, grabbed an extra blanket from the cupboard, took more painkillers and climbed back into bed to shiver and sweat his way through this thing.
"Gideon, dim the lights, please," said Rip.
"Of course, Captain."
The lights went to half their previous brightness and Rip closed his eyes. He couldn't ever remember feeling this awful from just being ill. He coughed quietly to himself, as he tried to pull the blankets more tightly around himself and persuade his body to warm up.
Sara stopped in to see Rip once they'd got back to the Waverider from yet another unsuccessful attempt to find Zero. They'd tracked the henchmen back to a warehouse in a different part of Belfast, but it had been another disappointment.
Gideon let her into his quarters, where the lights were turned down low, and she found him in bed, tightly wound in his blankets and sleeping. She stood watching him from the end of the bed for a moment. She noted his pale skin and the tremors that ran through him, and felt kind of sorry for him. She'd been about to leave when his eyes pulled themselves open and he'd croaked a few words at her.
"How was it?" he asked, eyes rimmed with red.
"It was a bust," she said. "No sign of Zero."
"Nothing?" he rasped, with disappointment.
"Well, there was a warehouse with some suspiciously futuristic tech in it, but Mick dealt with that," said Sara. "I guess we picked the wrong moment to take down his operation because apparently he was elsewhere. We'll keep looking. There's bound to be someone else out there that bought something from him."
Rip lay back on his pillows with an annoyed huff of breath, followed by a coughing fit. "How long does 'flu normally last?" he asked, with misery.
"Usually a few days," said Sara, with a note of apology in her voice.
"I can't be laid up for that long," said Rip.
"There's not much you can do about it, Rip. Just drink plenty of fluids and take the painkillers that I gave you."
"I have been. It hasn't made much difference. I still feel terrible and everything aches," said Rip, pushing himself up on an elbow with obvious difficulty. He reached for his water glass and drank about a third of it. Sara took pity and decided to top it up for him, locating the water jug on his desk.
"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I could bring you some soup?"
Rip shook his head. "Maybe later."
"It is later," said Sara, "you haven't eaten all day."
"Oh, I hadn't realised. I suppose I could try," said Rip.
"Okay," said Sara. "I'll be back in few minutes."
Sara headed for the galley and got Gideon to fabricate her some chicken soup. Then she took the bowl with a spoon back to Rip's quarters, but when she got there he was asleep again. If he'd actually eaten anything that day then she'd have left him to it, but he needed to eat if he was going to get better. She put the soup down on the bedside table and gave him a gentle shake.
"Hey, Rip, you need to eat," said Sara.
He groaned, and blinked open his eyes. "Is it morning?"
"No, it's dinner time. Come on, sit up and eat," said Sara.
Rip continued to blink his red rimmed eyes at her. "What?"
"I went to get you some soup, remember?"
"Oh," said Rip, a shiver running through him. He still seemed a little confused. "I'm so cold."
"But it's really warm in here," said Sara.
"I asked Gideon to increase the temperature," said Rip, trying rather unsuccessfully to disentangle himself from his sheets. Sara gave in and grabbed a couple of cushions to help prop him up, then came back to give him a hand to unwind his blankets a little. He lay back against the pillows with a distinct weariness.
"Just how many blankets have you got?" she asked, as she peeled them back.
"I didn't really count," said Rip, with half a shrug, followed by a wince.
Sara handed him his soup, carefully. She checked that he'd definitely got it before she let go. Then she looked at the bottle of painkillers. It looked to still be full, or perhaps missing a couple of pills.
"Have you taken any of these?" she asked.
Rip had brought the bowl halfway towards his mouth, so that the spoon had less far to go, given his shivering. The potential for slopping soup everywhere was quite high. He turned his bloodshot eyes towards the pills.
"I definitely took some," he replied.
"Can you remember when?" she asked, with exasperation.
"Before I fell asleep," he supplied.
"Which was…?"
"A few hours ago?" He didn't seem sure.
"Gideon, do you know when the Captain last took his painkillers," said Sara.
"Yes, Ms Lance, it was about six hours ago. He is now overdue for another dose," the ship's AI supplied helpfully.
Sara let out a resigned sigh and shook out some painkillers for Rip to take. "No wonder you feel crappy if you're overdue for more painkillers."
Rip took the pills without comment and slurped them down with some soup, seemingly resigned to doing whatever Sara told him to do. She noticed that he was now slowing down between spoonfuls of soup. He'd barely eaten half of it.
"I don't think I can manage anymore," he said, after putting down his spoon and considering the bowl for a while. "I do appreciate you bringing it for me though."
"Well, something's better than nothing," said Sara. "My Dad always told me to feed a fever."
"Yes, well, I'm sure his medical degree came in quite useful," said Rip, with biting sarcasm. Then he glanced up at Sara. "Sorry, that was rude of me. I'm very tired."
Sara was a little taken aback by the apology. Rip was supremely good at putting his foot in his mouth but very rarely did he apologise.
"I'm beginning to think that you're sicker than I thought," said Sara.
Rip gave her a long-suffering look. "Why don't you tell me about the leads we have on Zero?"
"Well, we don't have many. Ray suggested we could track down the technology at its source, but we don't even know what era it came from. We can scan for anomalies again. See if anyone's fighting a war with guns more advanced than they should be…" Sara shrugged. "But it's not like we can jump anyway, until you're better." She noticed the look that Rip was giving her, it seemed to be a combination of surprise and pride. "What? I pay attention. Time travel is bad if you're sick or injured."
"You're right," said Rip. "But hopefully a few days here won't make any difference and then I'll be well enough to jump again."
He blinked at her tiredly.
"Yeah, we could use a couple of days of downtime to regroup," said Sara. "I think you should go back to sleep."
"That won't be a problem," said Rip, tiredly. He coughed and Sara thought she detected a new wheeze to it, but otherwise he seemed no worse than earlier. She collected up the soup bowl, as Rip settled back down again, closing his eyes. She took a moment to check that he was sleeping soundly and then left him to it.
She was quite tired herself, and an early night wouldn't go amiss. She dropped the soup bowl off in the galley and headed to her own quarters to get some sleep. She was awoken sometime later by Gideon.
"Ms Lance, I require your assistance. I believe that Captain Hunter is sleep walking," said Gideon.
Sara let out a long and heartfelt sigh. This was not what she needed. A quick check of her clock suggested that she'd been asleep for four hours.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"Currently he is on the bridge trying to persuade me to jump… to 2166," said Gideon.
"Oh hell," said Sara. "You've locked him out, haven't you?"
"Of course, but if he uses one of his overrides then I might not be able to stop him," said Gideon.
"Stall him until I get there," said Sara, jumping out of bed.
"I am attempting to do so," said Gideon, with what sounded like annoyance.
Sara grabbed the clothes she'd removed only a few hours earlier and pulled them on quickly. She pushed her hair back from her face, and left her room at a flat run. She skidded onto the bridge to find Rip, in his pyjamas, stood at the console table, looking at timeline data.
"But I have to find them…" he muttered. "Gideon, they've got to be there. I can get them from there."
"Captain, you have already visited that time period," said Gideon.
"But this is after I leave," replied Rip, his voice breaking. "After I leave. It was our anniversary. That was the last time. I meant to go back then…"
He was shivering, with wild hair, pale skin and red eyes that had tears in them. He gripped the edge of the table like his life depended upon it.
"Hey, Rip," said Sara, trying to sound casual. "What'cha doin'?"
"I have to go and get them," he mumbled, not really looking up. She moved over so that she was beside him.
"Rip, you need to go back to bed. You're not well," said Sara. She reached out to take his arm, and she could feel how warm he was. He took a step away from her, swaying on his feet, and putting a hand to his head as if he was having trouble concentrating. She decided that she might need backup, and, after rapid due consideration, she decided who would be most helpful. "Gideon, can you wake Ray too?"
"Yes, Ms Lance."
"No, I need…" said Rip, and stopped, seemingly forgetting what he was about to say. "Gideon, set a course for 2166."
"I believe we have already had this conversation, Captain," said Gideon. "You have already attempted what you're proposing on multiple occasions."
"Rip, you're sleep walking, it's the fever," said Sara, but he still wasn't looking at her.
"Maybe… maybe…" said Rip, and shakily walked towards his office, stopping to lean against the doorway.
Sara followed him and then stood in his way. She put out a hand to feel his forehead – it was warm to her touch. "You're burning up, Rip."
Rip looked up. "Sara?" he asked with bafflement. "Where…? Er… what was I doing?"
"You've got a fever, Rip," said Sara. "You were sleepwalking."
"I've got to get them, Sara…" said Rip, urgently. "He's going to kill them."
"Oh Rip…" said Sara, sadly, unsure what to say.
Rip was heading for his desk, unsteady on his feet. He leaned on it for support and Sara realised that he really shouldn't be on his feet at all. Luckily Ray chose that moment to appear.
"Uh, what's going on?" he asked.
"His fever spiked," said Sara, with a hand indicating Rip. "He's sleepwalking, I think, or delirious, or a combination of the two. He wants to go to 2166."
Ray frowned and then he got it. "Oh, that can't be good."
"Yeah, I need to get him back to bed and I could do with a hand."
It was at about that moment that Rip's legs gave way, and he seemed to simply fold up at the knees and drop to the floor.
"Rip!" shouted Sara, dashing over to him. Ray was only a step behind her as she knelt beside their Captain. She checked his pulse and found it running too fast to be normal. He was still murmuring something, but she couldn't quite catch it, and as she watched, his eyes rolled backwards and he was out.
"Gideon, I think we're going to need medbay. His fever's really high," said Ray, as he felt the same warmth that was emanating from Rip as Sara had earlier.
"I will ready it," replied Gideon. "Please move the Captain there as soon as possible."
"We're on it, Gideon," said Sara, with a glance at Ray. He looked worried, his dark eyes taking in Rip's pale skin. She knew her own face also reflected her concern.
"Let's get him to medbay," said Ray.
Sara nodded, and between the two of them, they got Rip down the corridor and into medbay, where they placed him on the nearest chair. Sara hooked up the medical cuff and Gideon began to scan him. Rip moved restlessly, still muttering something to himself even in unconsciousness.
"Captain Hunter has an unusually high fever for influenza," said Gideon. "His temperature has reached 40°C and he is quite dehydrated. I am administering antipyretics, painkillers and fluids. It is likely that he will remain unconscious until his fever returns to more normal levels."
Sara was really worried now. "Is he going to be okay, Gideon? I thought this was just 'flu."
"Indeed it is, but it seems to be a particularly nasty strain," said Gideon. "I am unable to give you a prognosis at this point, but Captain Hunter was in good health prior to this illness which should help."
Sara nibbled on her thumb nail as Gideon displayed Rip's temperature, pulse and heart rate on the screen behind the chair. Ray was frowning.
"Gideon," said Ray. "Could you give me access to the analysis of the virus that you did?"
"Of course, Dr Palmer," replied Gideon.
Sara found herself mirroring Ray's expression. "What are you thinking?" she asked.
"I don't know," said Ray, with a shrug. "It just seems a bit weird that Rip, who is never sick, comes down with something this serious whilst we're in the middle of chasing down a temporal arms dealer."
"We're always chasing someone," said Sara.
"Yes, I know, but this feels… off. Don't you think it's a little weird that Gideon had all those antivirals in her database, except for the one we actually need? I know there are a lot of 'flu strains, but Gideon has the ones that were most common, so it's massive bad luck for Rip to catch such an obscure one."
Sara's eyebrows were drawn down in worry. "I don't know, Ray. We've been hanging out in some pretty out of the way places."
Ray nodded, but clearly didn't agree. "I know, but I'd rather look into it, just for my peace of mind."
Sara understood. Sometimes you did just need to check something out for yourself before you fully believed it. "Knock yourself out," said Sara. "We're not going anywhere until Rip's up to jumping out again. It could be a few days." She didn't add the very real fear she now had that Rip might die from this thing. She shook that off. Rip Hunter was not going to be taken out by a mere virus.
Ray gave a short nod and began working at one of the consoles.
Rip twisted in the chair. "Miranda! Please!"
Sara grabbed one of Rip's hands. "Hey, shush, it's okay, Rip."
"Please…" he murmured. "Don't kill them… Don't…"
"Rip, it's Sara, you're on the Waverider," said Sara, "you're going to be okay," trying to somehow pull him out of the bad dream he was in, but she wasn't completely certain it wasn't actually a memory.
Rip seemed to tire and go back into a deeper sleep.
"That actually worked," said Ray, with a little surprise.
"There's not much else I can do," said Sara. "I doubt he's going to remember any of this when his fever goes down."
"I can keep an eye on him while I work," said Ray. "You should probably go back to bed."
Gideon's display showed Rip's temperature tick up a single degree. Sara sighed.
"No, I'll sleep here," said Sara, and headed for the other chair. "Wake me if you find anything."
Ray had already turned back to his work, but Sara noticed that he'd also transferred Rip's vital signs readouts to the corner of his screen. "Will do."
Sara made herself as comfortable as she could manage on the other chair and slept.