Summary: The first lesson Time Masters in training are taught is 'time wants to happen'. This is probably the least relevant application of that lesson ever, but damn if Rip isn't going to try and BS his way out of this situation anyway.

(Rip Week 2021 Day 1 - Time Wants to Happen)

Notes: This is titled "Time Wants to Happen" over on Ao3, but since won't let me reuse titles (already named a Primeval story the same thing) it's been renamed "The First Lesson" here.

The First Lesson (Time Wants to Happen)

Rip slumped into his seat and stared forlornly at the glass of whiskey he'd poured just moments ago. "Time wants to happen," he said. "That's the first lesson we're taught during training to become Time Masters.

"Time is like a raging river. It can be dammed to some degree. Redirected. But it's always going to search for the path or least resistance and put pressure upon changes, wearing the temporal alterations away until everything gives way before it's desired riverbed." He twirled the glass in his hands, watching the light play off the almost pink hued liquid.

It must have been distilled in a barrel formerly used for port, Rip concluded. Those sorts of barrels always gave the whiskey a very distinctive appearance.

"It's one thing to toss the equivalence of a pebble into it's path, but push too hard and the river snaps back." Rip shook his head and downed the glass of whiskey. "In the end there was nothing I could do. Time wants to happen, Sara."

"Rip," Sara replied patiently, "forgetting to do the laundry isn't 'time wanting to happen'. That's just you failing to check the chore chart to see it was your turn this week. Now." She stole the whiskey bottle and poured her own glass. "Go do the damn laundry."

"In two more hours it'll be Ray's turn," Rip protested.

"And he'll be happy to let you finish up," Sara replied, savoring her own glass of alcohol. "Get to it, Captain. Or I'll tell Ray he should wash everyone's clothes except yours."

"Fine," Rip pouted, heading towards the laundry room while Sara laughed behind him.

Notes: The Legends totally have a chore chart hidden away somewhere.