Hunter glanced up from behind the main console as Mick entered Command, tapped something on his data pad and then moved on to the next screen. "Mr Rory. All is well?"

Mick paused next to the scrolling engine readouts, ran an eye over them. Once, they'd meant nothing to him: gibberish, of no interest or concern. Now, they were informative - he could see exactly how out of date the ship's systems were. Still not that interesting, though. "None of your business."

"I'd contend it's at least somewhat my business," Hunter ducked under a panel with a grunt. "The Waverider is my ship and I'd appreciate advanced warning if any of you are actively plotting to murder one another. Or me. More than usual, that is."

"Any of us? You think anyone trusts you?"

"I wasn't the one making deals with time pirates." Hunter extracted himself from the tangle of spliced wiring and climbed to his feet, casting about for the pad. "Or, for that matter, hunting anyone down for the Time Masters. And I allowed Per Degaton to live."

Hunter was too nonchalant, too controlled. It was an act, Mick was sure of that, he just didn't know why. Time to ruffle him up some.

"You couldn't kill a kid, big deal. Last time I checked, we ain't kids. You're really going to pretend you wouldn't sell us out for your family? You were in a hell of a rush to get Kendra back. That because she's on your crew, or because you can trade her to Savage if everything else goes South?"

Hunter's expression wavered close to nausea; Mick would bet he'd never even considered it. And if he hadn't thought of something that obvious, he probably hadn't thought of anything else.

Doubtful the same could be said for Savage; he'd make the good Captain an offer, sooner or later.

"Whatever I say, I'm sure you won't believe me." Hunter's expression shuttered. "So I'll just keep acting as if I'm not the second greatest monster the world has ever known and we'll see how we get on, all right?"

His hand hovered over the data pad, then dropped away. His shoulders fell and he rubbed at his eyes. "This will end badly, won't it?"

"You're the Time Master," Mick said. "You tell me."

"You know very well it doesn't work that way."

"IQ of meat, remember?"

Hunter scowled irritably as the last of the calm veneer eroded. "Something said in the heat of the moment and, if you recall, recanted immediately. And I apologized after Nanda Parbat, even though you'd attempted to kill us. Repeatedly. I'm not sure what else I can say. Or why I should. How many of your countless victims have you made reparations to?"

"Time Masters are too used to writing over their mistakes," Mick said, ignoring the question. "That's the problem with you people. Your arrogance. I don't need your apology. Never did."

"'You people.'" Hunter shook his head. "Except it's you as well now, isn't it?"

"Feeling less special? Don't worry, I was just a tool to them. Familiar sensation."

"Mr Rory, it cannot have escaped your notice that I'm not the most diplomatic of men. I'd apologize for that as well, but frankly, I don't think either of us gets much out of it." Hunter smiled faintly. "I'm surprised you took any notice - there hasn't been overwhelming evidence that anyone on this crew cares what I have to say, but yourself and Mr Snart always seemed particularly impervious."

"No one likes to be told they were the throw-away part of a two for one deal."

Hunter nodded. "Particularly not, I imagine, when the other half of said deal has acclimatised somewhat more easily."

"Some people are who they are: we don't change and nothing changes us. Not really. Not where it counts. That's you and me."

Hunter didn't deny it.

"The others adapt to fit in, to hide. To survive. I respect that, but I don't trust it. I don't like not being able to trust my partner to do the right thing."

"The right thing in that case being to leave the rest of us to the tender, entirely non-existent mercies of time pirates?"

"The right thing being to have my back." Mick crossed his arms, waiting for the sanctimonious sermon to begin.

"In the newfound spirit of teamwork, we'll have to agree to disagree," Hunter said, after an almost delicate pause. "Anyway, I thought things were settled between you now. With the…." He waved a hand vaguely towards his face. "Gideon offered to repair the damage, you know. Snart refused. I don't pretend to understand his reasons.

"Well," he went on briskly, when Mick made no effort to enlighten him. "I think that's enough small talk, don't you?"

"More than enough." They were in full agreement for possibly the first time since they met; maybe they should get Gideon to make a note in the log. Or not. "What do you want?"

"Your ship. We have to destroy it or the League of the twentieth century will be rather more well armed, and potentially well travelled, than anyone in their right mind could ever be comfortable with. Ra's al Ghul with a time ship? Good God."

"It's hidden."

Hunter nodded and raised his data pad, fingers poised to key in the coordinates. "Good. Where?"

"If I told you that, it wouldn't be hidden anymore."

The pad lowered; Mick smirked in the face of a flatly unamused glare.

"Fine. I assume your partner knows, as he escaped it." Hunter's expression sharpened as he thought aloud. "With only one hand, too, so I don't imagine a great deal of climbing was involved. Or that it's far from the city, given how quickly he found us. That narrows the field. Gideon, search for-"

"No," Mick said, firmly.

"For heaven's sake, why?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Yes, Mr Rory, in this instance you do. I suppose I wouldn't want someone to scuttle the Waverider," Hunter allowed, grudgingly, after a moment. "But I would leave her somewhere more secure than a city full of crazed assassins!"

"Wouldn't let Blondie hear you say that." But if Hunter was starting to think, at last, that seemed like something Mick should encourage after the succession of screw ups. "Internal and external defences are active," he said. "If anyone tries to breach, it will auto-initiate self-destruct. The League aren't looking for her, but if we're lucky the Hunters are."

"We could take them out before they find us." Hunter nodded, looking more relieved than surprised. "I agree that would be worth the risk. I am curious about one thing, though: if your ship has the standard defences, how did Snart get out? Although I suppose I might just as well ask how he escaped you at all. No one ever evaded Chronos, certainly no one ever got away. Mr Snart is that good?"

"You're the one that wanted to recruit him so bad you took the pyromaniac too," Mick pointed out, knowing that his tone was even, his expression unreadable. He'd had practice. "You tell me - was it for his big blue eyes?"

Hunter's gaze skirted over his face in much the same way that Kendra's had. Disconcerting for a moment, but a pale imitation.

"I wasn't going to keep either of you, you know," Hunter said abruptly, and turned back to the system checks. "After it all went wrong in the seventies."

"So why did you?"

"Because I thought there was a chance, a chance , you'd both realise there was something greater than yourselves to fight for. Something more important than the next heist. You have to be something of an optimist, as a Time Master." Hunter's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "You have to be able to convince yourself, when you're walking away from some unimaginable human tragedy or other, that it will all be for the best."

In his time working for the Time Masters, Mick couldn't say that had come up. "How's that working out for you?"

"In all honesty, I'm seriously considering grabbing my family the day before Savage gets there, throwing them on the ship and losing us all in dark space."

"So why don't you? You'd have to keep moving through the frags, but if you were careful you might make it."

"I've thought about it," Hunter admitted. "Obviously I'd have to fake their deaths so my past self would embark on the desired course, but it could work. For a while. But I want them to be free. Safe, for always. And, as selfish I'm aware my motives appear, I'm entirely sincere in my desire to rid the world of Vandal Savage. I might be able to rescue my wife and son, but I'm not sure either would forgive me if I - we - didn't make every effort to save everyone else as well."

"Noble." Mick watched Hunter wrestle with the release on the next service box. "I'm sure that'll be a real comfort when the Hunters catch up to us."

"I'm confident we'll overcome. With adequate preparation, on open ground." Hunter eyed the box like he was judging the distance for a kick. "We took you down."

"With the help of crazed assassins." Mick brought his fist down hard just above the catch; it popped. "And there are three of them."

"Thank you," Hunter said, but remained where he stood. Apparently Mick had his full attention now. "You sound like you want them to win."

"Call it professional pride. But if you're asking whether I'll try and make a deal, it's too late for that."

Rip's smile was thin-lipped and crooked. "So where does that leave us? Gideon tells me you've been making your peace with the others well enough. Or at least negotiating terms of engagement."

"You had Gideon spying on me," Mick growled, unsure whether he was impressed or angry that Hunter had tried to play him. "That's how you knew about my ship."

"No, actually." Hunter ducked down again, apparently confident Mick wasn't going to punch him like a stuck hatch. "I was monitoring you, of course. But, however preoccupied I may be, I like to think a fully operational time ship sitting in the League of Assassins' driveway isn't something that would slip my mind."

"But you waited until now to mention it. Why not destroy it before we left Nanda Parbat? Because you wanted me to know," Mick answered himself after a beat, grudgingly impressed. "It was a test."

"If you'd tried to keep it secret, if you'd tried to leave yourself somewhere to run, I would be significantly less inclined to trust you onboard the Waverider." Hunter entered the last digits into the pad before tucking it into his inner pocket. "I must admit some surprise that you offered it to Ms Saunders."

"Still none of your business."

"If you trust nothing else, Mr Rory, trust that I spend as little time as possible considering your motives. For anything. Now, I understand Mr Palmer is expecting us for," his lip curled, "games night. If you're attending, please let him know I will be late. And also that I don't appreciate blackmail."

"Blackmail? We're talking about Haircut?"

Hunter paced towards his anteroom with narrowed eyes and a determined expression. "Ask him."

Next on Talking iiiiin Spaaaaace aaaaand Tiiiiiime: Ray is probably not a hardened criminal, games night is perpetrated, Mick is as Christmas-ey as the next guy, and Sara and Jax get way more to say, because they totally got stiffed in the early chapters when Lithy thought this would be a third as long. To laugh hollowly.