"They probably went back to the Sanctuary," Sara broke the silence that had settled after Mick's statement, unfastening her seat's harness. "We just have to let them know we're back."

Mick tried hailing the Waverider, but as soon as he opened the corresponding channel, the power went out, plunging them into complete darkness.

"Crap!" Snart's voice came from somewhere behind him and Mick echoed the sentiment with a growl.

A few moments later, the emergency back-up power source kicked in and the lights were restored, eliciting sighs of relief from his team mates. But their luck didn't last, though. A spark and a crackle from the control console, followed by the distinct smell of burnt plastic, alerted them that something was wrong. Mick realised that the whole thing was fried when none of the buttons he pushed, or the switches he flipped, had any effect.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" he grumbled.

"There's… sparks… coming out of your… control panel," Red murmured in a slurred voice.

"No shit, kid!" Mick said, getting up and heading for the back of the ship, where he knew the tool kit was stored.

Iris and Sara went to check up on the – apparently now conscious – speedster. Snart tried to get up too, but he lost his balance and nearly toppled over. The two women reacted fast enough to steady him, just in time to prevent him from face-planting into the busted control panel, and helped him sit back down. Figuring that they could make do without him for a bit, he got to work on fixing the communications system at least, hoping he wouldn't have to enact Plan B.

The whole ship was shot to hell, by the looks of it, and there was no way to get it back running with what he had available onboard. The safeties were blown and needed replacing and the wiring was toast. But the comms system was their only hope. And they couldn't afford to time-jump anyway, because both Red and Snart were in need of medical assistance. Red, especially, wouldn't survive it in his current state.

"Need any help?" Iris asked him while he was in the process of repairing the part that would let them broadcast a distress signal.

"I got this, thanks," he said, giving her something that he hoped came across as an encouraging smile.

She smiled back and returned to dotting over her husband, working with Sara on staunching the bleeding from the speedster's injured shoulder and stitching up the wound.

"I'll offer my help as soon as the ship stops spinning," said Snart, eyes closed and head bent, slouching in his seat.

"Sure you will," Mick snorted in amusement. "But I'd hold off, if I were you. You look a little bit green around the gills at the moment."

His friend chuckled at the quip and they spent the next half-hour in companionable silence. The only sounds occasionally breaking the quiet were the murmurs of Red and his girl in the background, as they rejoiced at their reunion. Mick figured they'd earned a moment of privacy, so he ignored them and let them have this. It wasn't as though they were in a hurry anyway.

He was so focused on his task, that he didn't notice Red approaching him, until the man literally handed him the screwdriver he was looking for. The kid – he was still a kid in Mick's eyes, no matter what – was leaning heavily on the back of the pilot's seat and favouring his right arm. But his expression was so devastatingly eager to help, that Mick felt like saying no would be cruel.

So, without a word, Mick gave him the seat and let him assist with the repairs in any way he could. It was a good thing too, because Red seemed to know what he was doing and caught a few problems that Mick had overseen. Together, they managed to restore limited communication ability, but no matter what they did, they couldn't get the damn thing to broadcast the S.O.S. on the Waverider's frequency.

'No problem,' Mick thought, and sent a distress signal on another frequency altogether. Sara gave him a perplexed look, clearly surprised at his calm demeanour.

"When we were doing our last-minute adjustments to the jumpship," Mick explained, "I thought of a contingency plan. Something to work with, just in case our plan went south and we ended up stranded somewhere. Or somewhen."

"You called someone else to help?" asked Sara.

"Sort of… someone," Mick said, staring out through the windshield. "Wait for it…" he continued, as the others mirrored his gesture.

They didn't have to wait for long. As the Styx emerged from its jump, Mick turned to look at the expressions of disbelief on Sara and Snart's faces – and the confusion on Iris and Red's – glad, for the first, and probably only time, that he hadn't disposed of the ship he'd used as Chronos.

"Never thought I' be happy to see that thing ever again," Snart muttered, as the Styx flew itself below them and docked with their jumpship.

"Me neither," said Mick, helping Red get up and supporting him as they headed for the hatch.

Sara and Iris helped Snart to his feet and followed them into the other vessel.

"Welcome back, Chronos," said Gareth, the ship's AI, as they stumbled towards the medical room.

"Don't call me that!" Mick snapped.

"My apologies," said the AI, "but I only have that name in my database, in regards to your identity."

"You could call him Mr. Rory, like our own AI does," Sara suggested.

"Anything but Chronos," Mick said, helping Red into the medical chair and snapping the medical cuff around his wrist.

"Very well, Mr. Rory," Gareth said.

No sooner was the cuff attached, than the monitors to Mick's right went haywire, the kid's vitals all over the place.

"This looks bad…" Mick muttered, noticing that the readings were off the charts, possibly even for a speedster.

"Mr. Allen has been exposed to a high level of temporal radiation," Gareth informed them. "Combined with the damage to his shoulder, which gives off a different temporal signature, his chances of survival are minimal."

Iris was by his side again, holding his hand and combing back his hair with trembling fingers. Mick figured she'd be familiar with her husband's vital signs showing a bad condition.

"Can't you help him?" Snart asked from his position in the doorway, heavily leaning on Sara for support.

"I can try," said Gareth. "But I have never treated a speedster before and the information on his condition is scarce. I cannot guarantee I will be successful."

"I'm sure you'll do your best," Sara said. "The best course of action, right now, would be to get to the Sanctuary. Can you take us there?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lance," said Gareth, "I'm only authorised to obey orders given by Mr. Rory."

"Code 4814," Mick tried to keep the bite out of his voice; it wasn't the AI's fault that the Time Bastards created him, after all. "I'm authorising you to take orders from everyone present here. Set a course for the Sanctuary."

"Certainly, Mr. Rory," the AI said. "As soon as I've stabilised Mr. Allen, we'll be on our way."

They stood in silence and waited, as Red's vitals slowly reached a more reasonable level. Mick could tell that the kid was exhausted and in a great deal of pain, especially from his shoulder wound. By the looks of it, there was some internal bleeding as well, probably from the way that Time Wraith had sunk its claws right below Red's neck, above his clavicle. The kid was shivering now, eyes blinking sluggishly, a sign that the damage was extensive.

"Can't you give him something for the pain," Snart asked, a hint of annoyance in his words even as he slurred them slightly.

"It wouldn't work," Iris answered, before the AI had a chance to respond. "His body would burn through it too quickly for it to have any effect."

"Mrs. West-Allen is correct," said Gareth. "Any sedative I would administer would be processed almost instantly. It wouldn't offer any relief."

"Bummer," Mick said under his breath, not missing the looks of horror on both Sara and Snart's faces.

"I suggest you return to the bridge and take your seats," Gareth told them after a moment. "Mr. Allen's condition has stabilised somewhat. We will be leaving shortly."

Mick touched Iris' shoulder to draw her attention and the woman leaned over to place a gentle kiss on Red's lips. The kid's eyes were shut now, the pain having – thankfully – rendered him unconscious. Then she straightened from her position and, with a watery smile in Mick's direction, went ahead of him towards the ship's bridge, helping Sara support the still unsteady Snart along the way.

He shook his head slightly and followed the others, still not used to people actually smiling at him and openly addressing him like an actual person. In moments like those, he was glad to be a part of a team that cared and had open-minded friends. He wished he could do more to help the kid, but he realised that there was nothing more he or the Styx's AI could do. Their last resort was the Waverider, which was hopefully still at the Sanctuary. If not, maybe Mary and Will could help them.

Plopping down in the pilot's seat once more, Mick tried not to think of all the times he'd flown the ship as Chronos. Those were memories best kept at bay and if he'd had any other choice, he would have preferred not to step foot on the Styx ever again.

"Setting course for the Sanctuary," Gareth's voice echoed across the bridge and Mick squeezed the armrest of his chair in a white-knuckled grip.

Return to consciousness took longer this time. He struggled to fight his way to the surface through the murky waters of his jumbled thoughts. Barry didn't understand why his injuries hadn't healed yet, at least a fraction. He still felt the same as he did before drifting into the darkness, unless less time than he thought had actually passed.

Barry only vaguely remembered fragments of a worried discussion about his wounds between Iris and Sara while still on the jumpship, followed by helping Mick fix something… he wasn't sure what. Afterwards, there was an exhausting walk into another ship, the effort draining him to the point of almost needing Mick's full support to merely stay upright. He remembered some of the discussion that had taken place after he'd been set down into some sort of medical chair, mainly the part where his friends talked about painkillers and Iris pointed out that they wouldn't work. He drew a blank on what happened next.

The only clear recollection was the excruciating pain in his shoulder, which had only gotten worse as time passed, until he'd blacked out. Now, it returned steadily, being part of what awoke him from his slumber-like state. That, and the feeling of the ship landing, was what roused him.

Had they managed to get back to Central City? Barry certainly hoped so. Even though he couldn't tell where they'd landed, he found it odd that nobody had come to check on him. He really craved Iris' presence to distract him from the pain, which was slowly starting to border on agony. He almost hoped it would pull him under again, just so he could be rid of it. He'd been stabbed before, but none of those instances could compare to what he was feeling now. The only other time he'd felt a similar pain was in the Speedforce, when the Black Flash had tried to kill him – and even that hadn't been as agonizing. And that comparison only evoked a sense of dread, so he tried to focus on anything else to distract him from that thought.

He settled on the – rather rapid – beeping of what had to be the heart monitor. He tried keeping count of the shrill sounds, breath coming in harsh gasps and pained whimpers escaping him from time to time. Remembering the few times he'd tried counting sheep when he'd had trouble falling asleep as a child, he let out a breathy chuckle. Because now, just like then, it didn't do much more than slightly take his mind off of the fear that plagued him. Back then, it had been his fear of being alone in the dark. Now, it was a fear of dying and leaving Iris, which is probably why he'd focused on the monitor, subconsciously connecting his heartbeat to his love for her. 'It's still beating, Iris. For you.'

His delirious musings were interrupted by the sound of voices and footsteps coming down the hall just outside the medbay. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but their tone was riddled with an undercurrent of urgency. Just as Barry recognised Iris' voice, the door slid open.

"Let me see the wound," a foreign male voice demanded.

Someone opened the top half of his suit and he was jostled a bit – albeit gently – as the garment and the bandage were removed. The movement brought with it a fresh wave of agony and Barry had to bite back a keen. No matter how hard he fought, though, he couldn't open his eyes. Why couldn't he open his eyes?

"It wasn't like that when we bandaged it," Iris said in a worried tone, gently brushing her fingers along the biceps of his right arm. "What is it?"

"That," the unfamiliar man answered, "is an after-effect caused by the Time Wraith's unique temporal signature. It's called 'time poison' and it's usually deadly, especially for speedsters."

"There has to be a… an antidote, or something," Len said, voice steadier than it was after they'd left the Oculus Waste.

"There is a solution," the other man said. "It's good that you didn't jump back to 2018 with Mr. Allen in this condition. That would have, without a doubt, killed him."

"So what can we do?" Sara's voice sounded subdued.

"It won't be as simple as it was with Mr. Snart," the man replies, "where a simple reset of his internal vibrational frequency solved the problem." He paused for a moment, humming thoughtfully. "According to these readings, that sort of reset is necessary here as well. But there's nothing this AI can do about the time poison."

The silence that followed was so thick, that even Sara's knives would not be sharp enough to cut it and Barry wanted to laugh at the comparison. He would have loved to at least be able to do something as simple as open his eyes, not to mention laugh. That was quite some poison, if all he could do was breathe and listen.

"There's only one thing this ship is capable of," Mick muttered, seeming none too happy, "that would protect him 'till we get to 2018. The Waverider is a lot better equipped to handle somethin' like this. What do ya think?"

The other man hummed, probably weighing the possibilities. Barry fought to open his eyes again, only managing to crack them half-way, and then promptly closing them and wincing at the stab of pain shooting through his skull. No one gave any sign of having noticed his attempt.

"Yes," the stranger finally answered, "it appears to be the only viable option."

"What is it?" Len asked, and Barry had the distinct impression that he was on the verge of losing his cool.

"The ship's AI can keep Red in a protective temporal field," Mick said, "kind of like that…" he seemed to struggle briefly, searching for the right word, "stasis thing Rip put me in, back when we used the Waverider to stop that atomic bomb."

"Wait, what?!" Iris said at the same time Len exclaimed "Holy shit, what?!"

"Long story," said Sara. "The important thing is that it keeps Barry from dying when we make the jump."

"But first," the unfamiliar man said, "we have to reset his frequency." Barry heard footsteps and figured the stranger had walked to one of the many monitors in the room. "This is going to be tricky," he went on, "because of your ship's limited information about speedsters. I'll have to do it manually, until it gets to as close as possible to his natural frequency. That's all I can do with the available tools."

There was some sound of tapping in the brief silence and then Barry started feeling a pressure build behind his eyes, and he could hear an increasingly high-pitched whine coming from somewhere above him.

"Can you feel that?" Iris asked. "And what's that sound?"

"That, Mrs. West-Allen," the stranger said, "is a very complicated speedster reset."

"I can hear it too," Len whispered, a note of unease creeping into his voice. "Is that normal?"

"Not really," was the answer he received. "For you, it's linked to the effect the exposure to the Oculus had on your body. For Mrs. West-Allen, it's because of her status as her husband's lightning rod."

Barry's hands and feet started trembling slightly and he could feel the pressure in his head expand. The tremor extended to his arms and legs, the shaking only worsening the pain in his shoulder. Then there was a pop and a spark of static that seemed to travel from his head to his toes, and then his eyes popped open seemingly of their own accord. He heard Iris gasp and quickly turned his head in her direction, nearly giving himself whiplash.

"Iris…" he mumbled, smiling at her as their gazes met and she was by his side faster than he thought possible, for a non-speedster.

"Bear, are you OK?" her voice was choked and her face a mask of worry, as she took his right hand in both of hers.

"Shoulder… hurts," he gasped, his injury throbbing. "But… I'm OK."

He smiled at her again, softly rubbing her fingers with his thumb, trying to reassure her and fight to stay conscious. It seemed that, all of a sudden, he was so tired, like he'd run around the world a million times.

"You're lucky, Mr. Allen," the stranger addressed him and Barry turned his head in the other direction to look at the man – elderly and grey-haired, dressed in some sort of weird robe. "Your healing factor saved you from succumbing to the time poison. It's still fighting it, that's why you feel tired."

Barry blinked sluggishly at the explanation, but couldn't muster the energy to reply. The stranger adjusted something on the touch-screen nearest to him and Barry felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him. He frowned. He couldn't possibly be that tired.

"I've had Gareth administer the heaviest sedatives and analgesics in his arsenal."

Barry blinked again in confusion. Last he remembered, the ship didn't have drugs strong enough to work on him.

"The high dosage and concentration," the older man said, as if he was reading Barry's mind, "should knock you out for long enough to ease the stasis process."

"How… is it… working?" Barry all but slurred. Ever since he'd gained powers, no drugs had had any effect on him.

"Your body is too busy fighting off the poison. By the time it realises it has something else to fight, you'll be out cold and in the stasis field."

"It's going to be alright," Iris said, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. "I love you."

She leaned over and brushed her lips gently against his, and his eyes fluttered shut. Partly from the kiss and partly from exhaustion.

"Don't fight it, Bear," Iris murmured against his lips, then pressed her forehead to his. "It's OK."

"I love… you," he whispered as the darkness encroached on him and he finally tumbled back into oblivion.