A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And in answer to one of my anon reviewers, they're using boomtubes because in Batman Beyond it's shown they use boomtubes instead of teleports in the future League.

Chapter Seventeen—Trips

Martha laughed at the stunned expression Sarah's expression. "Wow, must've been some trip, huh?"

"Trip?"

"What was it, acid?"

"What?" Sarah choked. "No!"

Martha nodded. "Don't do it? That's good – I never do. Weed sometimes, but that's not really a drug at all is it?"

"Um, isn't it?"

"Where you from, sunshine?" she asked cheerfully.

"Gotham. But last thing I remember I was in D.C. with Rex, my…friend."

Martha's eyes sparkled. "Your friend huh? I had a 'friend' once…"

Sarah forced a smile and took her…grandmother…in properly. Blonde hair, swept upward in a beehive, with a miniskirt, red go-go boots and a strappy top. There were no rings on her fingers, and she only looked in her late twenties. Sarah knew her father wouldn't be born until November 1970, so there was time. Surely she would have to either be with her grandfather now, or about to meet him.

"So what are you going to do now?" Martha asked. "I take it you didn't mean to end up in the back-end of nowhere."

"No."

"Well I'm heading east if you need a a ride? You did just save my life after all. Or at least my–" she cut off, clearing her throat as the apparent seriousness of what had almost just happened to her flooded in. Tears filled her eyes and her fingertips started trembling. Shock. Sarah had seen this quite a lot too, though she never, ever stuck around to do anything about it. Now she had no choice.

She took Martha's hands and sat her down next to her. "Don't think about what might have happened," she advised. "It won't help. It didn't – you need to focus on that."

The other woman nodded, and sniffed a little bit, but didn't cry. "You're right. No point in worrying about it now."

"Exactly."

"But you're gonna have to teach me some of those moves, y'know. Never know when I'm going to get attacked again."

If Martha noticed Sarah flinch, she didn't say anything, and wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath. Immediately, Sarah wanted to do she suggested, right now. Teach her to defend herself so that in that fucking alley–

"So, what do you say?"

"Um, well I don't want to put you to too much trouble," she replied. The less time she spent around Martha the better, after all. Less chance of saying something she shouldn't. Thankfully, although they were both blonde, Sarah took after Hippolyta far more than she did the Wayne side of the family in looks. Unless she put her foot in it in a spectacular way, this might be salvageable.

"Don't be stupid! I'm heading east anyway like I said," Martha said, an excited smile on her face.

"How come?"

"There's a festival going on in New York state in about a week. Should be awesome – some amazing bands playing. I mean, you're talking the Grateful Dead, The Who, Creedence Clearwater—the list goes on! Even Hendrix is supposed to be playing!"

"Wait…" Sarah said slowly, incredulity filling her, "are you talking about Woodstock?"

"Um, yeah, that's the name of the town. Three days of peace and music."

"Great– Oh my God!"

Martha grinned. "Wanna come?"

Did she! To actually be at the greatest music festival of the twentieth – of the twenty-first century! And who better to have as a traveling companion but the grandmother she had never–

Sarah sighed. "I'd love to. But I really should be getting back to–" To where, though? To…wherever Rex was. That was the only place she wanted to go. The only place she could go.

Martha was watching her closely, a shrewd look on her face. "You want to get back to your boyfriend, don't you? Sunshine, you can't let a guy run your life!"

Sarah snorted. "I don't – believe me. But yeah, I want to get back to my boyfriend. Uh, not that he's actually my boyfriend. More than that. Less."

Martha laughed. "Maybe you should just come to Woodstock. Save yourself a lot of confusion. And if you ended up in Roundup, God only knows where he ended up."

"So exactly how small is…"

When Sarah's voice trailed off unexpectedly, Rex looked to his left, expecting to see her sharp eyes focused on something imperceptibly small but vitally important. But she wasn't there at all. In fact this wasn't the Watchtower. This was…a very small, very dark room.

"Reaper?"

"Argh!"

From nowhere, the shape of a man rushed toward him, wielding what looked like a small wooden stool. It hit Rex square in the chest before he had time to do anything about it – and did nothing but splinter against his armour. It didn't even make him take a step back. The stool was followed by a fist. Equally harmless for him, but not for the person punching him. Who immediately snatched his hand back with a loud curse of pain.

"Ow! Jesus fucking Christ what are you, a robot?"

There was a tiny flare of light, and then a larger, steadier light as a candle was lit. The man who'd attacked him came into clearer focus. When he looked at Rex, his grey eyes widened in fear. "Oh my God you are!"

"No, no, I'm not," Rex said quickly. "Member of the Justice League yes, robot no."

"The what league?"

"The Justice League."

"Again: the what League?"

"Never mind."

Ignoring the man, Rex moved to the door and tried the door handle. He used the strength that any normal man would have – he had more, naturally – but the door didn't open. He used a modicum more, and still nothing.

"The door's locked," his companion said unnecessarily. "From the outside. By them."

"Them?"

"Kidnappers. Hey, you said you were justice right? That mean you're here to rescue me?"

"Depends. Did you call for League assistance?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then no. But rescuing people is what I do, so yeah, I'm here to rescue you."

The man looked at him for a second with a hard, flat glare that was unsettlingly familiar, before nodding and smiling. He stood, offered his hand. "I'm Tom. And you are?"

"Warhawk."

"That's not a name so much as a title, you know."

"That's all you're getting."

"Fine, then I won't tell you my last name."

Rex folded his arms across his broad chest. "If I'm going to rescue you, I need to know who's holding you. In order to understand that properly, I'm going to need to know why they kidnapped you, where we are, and who you are, in that order. Start talking."

"One – my family is insanely rich. Two – I think we're somewhere behind the Iron Curtain. Three, I'm Thomas Franklin Wayne. Done talking."

Sarah was thinking hard. Thinking wasn't unusual, not for her, but she found herself unable to remember the last time she'd had to think hard about anything. There were just too many variables here. Mostly it depended on what had happened to cause her to end up here. Both she and Rex had been in the same boomtube, so if it had been an accident or a freak of science then he could very well have been taken off course too. But the odds of that were limited – it wasn't just the geography that had gone wrong, it was the chronology of it as well. That indicated that her ending up here hadn't been an accident. Someone had designed it so that she was trapped in 1969. If it was a targeted attack against her specifically then Rex would probably have been spared. The possibility that it had been an attack against Rex chilled her blood.

In any case, she was in 1969, and the way home was not going to be found in Roundup Montana. Plus it would be better for her to keep moving – it was the height of the Cold War, and she had a nuclear bomb in her backpack. She doubted the authorities would accept she was an American citizen who wouldn't be born for another thirty six years.

I just wish I knew where he was…

She didn't realise she'd spoken aloud when Martha chuckled again. "Well where did you leave him?"

"Washington. Lincoln…" she trailed off feeling a revelation rise up in her chest, leaving a wake of excitement in its wake. "…Memorial," she said slowly.

"Lincoln Memorial?"

"Yeah, he said–" she coloured lightly. "He said it was our spot."

Martha's face brightened. "So he could be waiting for you there then."

"He could be," Sarah nodded. In fact he had to be. Though how did she know that? And she did know it. This wasn't a case of likelihoods or thinking about it. She just knew. Rex was either there, or he'd have the same idea as she had. She just prayed he'd take it on faith and follow the thread which led to her.

She turned to her grandmother. "Can you give me a lift as far as New York? I can get a train to D.C. from there."

"Of course! Come on, we can get going now," she smiled.

Ten minutes later, Sarah found herself sitting in the passenger seat of a Volkswagen Type 2 van, with her dead twenty-seven-year-old grandmother at the wheel. At least starting off in Montana there was little chance of them needing to go through Oklahoma to get to New York. The irony of her situation wasn't lost on her.

There were a lot of parallels here, she had to admit, or enough to make her a little uncomfortable. Of course she was missing a Green Lantern, but in getting lost with Rex she kind of had two in one – the man she was attracted to and the son of John Stewart. Even if she wasn't actually with Rex at the moment. She was pretty confident she would be again soon, as long as he'd had the same idea she did and was headed to D.C. Uncharacteristically, she had no idea where that faith had come from, just that it was there. If he wasn't in the same world, the same time as her, she'd feel cold and… alone.

Had she been arrogant, she wondered? Thinking that she could forge her own destiny and choose her future without regard to what the Fates or the gods had in mind for her? And every sign they sent to her seemed to indicate that she wasn't meant to cut himself off. She wasn't meant to be alone. Hera knew trying hadn't worked at all, and that wasn't even bringing into account what Aphrodite had told her all those years ago. Well, there were two choices. She could try harder to be Reaper alone, or she could take her mother's advice. The gods had seen fit to mold and shape her life so far, so who was she to tell them to stop now? It hadn't led her into danger after all. Or, at least, not life-threatening danger. That is, not life-threatening danger that she couldn't handle. Perhaps there was something she was supposed to be learning from a repeat of her parents' journey.

I'll just have to make sure I don't get pregnant, she thought half-amusedly.

A/N: Review please!