Sara yawned as she made her way through the dark Waverider, running her fingers through her tangled hair. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the crew was still asleep. It was, after all, 5 in the morning, what normal person would be up that early when they could sleep in? The response was simple. Sara would. Not that she had realised it was 5 when she woke up – after months of time travelling, keeping track of the actual time had been getting hard. Her stomach had been the one waking her up, which was why she was walking to the kitchen, looking to satisfy her hunger.
“Gideon, lights at 50%, please,” Sara muttered, stiffening another yawn as she entered the kitchen.
Her eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, she began rummaging through the cupboards and got a couple of cookie boxes out of it before getting a bottle of milk out of the fridge. Putting all of her goods onto the table, she made her way to the coffee machine only to find out that the device had already been turned on. Tilting her head, she frowned at it.
“Gideon-“
“Seeing the early hour, I took the liberty of starting a fresh pot of coffee, Captain Lance,” the A.I intervened, her tone smug.
Sara snorted, shaking her head before she turned back and took her cup off the drying dish rack, her lips pursed in thought before she decided to take off before taking the six other mugs off of it and putting them on the table. She, then, grabbed the coffee pot of its sock before staring at the other stuff she had laid on the table with a grimace, thinking of the trips she would have to make between the bridge and the kitchen. Letting a sigh, Sara pushed back her hair and grabbed one of the cookie boxes, putting in her mouth so she could grab the bottle of milk with her free hand. Glaring at the mug she had left on the kitchen counter, she slowly bent down and hooked the handle with her pinkie finger.
A victorious smirk plastered on her face, Sara shuffled out of the kitchen and to the bridge, her grip steady on the steaming coffee pot and the cookie box safely secured between her teeth. She let out a sigh of relief and grumbled a thank you at the ship’s dedicated A.I when the lights immediately turned off in the kitchen and on as she arrived on the bridge. Dropping the cookies and milk bottle onto the Captain’s chair, she let out a satisfied sigh as the weight of the box left her mouth. After clenching and unclenching her fingers, she poured herself a – well-earned, if you asked her, after all that unnecessary effort in 5 in the freaking morning – cup of coffee, putting the pot onto the command board. Pushing away the bottle of milk and box of cookies away, she dropped into the chair, her eyes closing in contentment as she leaned back into it, one leg under her and her warm mug close to her chest. That was when she heard the muttering.
Frowning, she straightened in her chair, her eyes snapping open at the noise, alert. Her frown deepened when she realized the noise had come from the study across from her. Which was actually occupied, if the lights and voices that came from it were anything to go by. Sara’s stance relaxed when she noticed the tall and lanky form of one Rip Hunter pacing the length of his office his familiar trench coat draped over his chair. A small smile tugging at her lips, she got up from the chair, grabbing her cookie boxes as she made her away to the study and making sure that her steps would be loud enough to not startle him. Expectedly, Rip was too caught in whatever he was doing to notice her standing in the entrance. She used his obliviousness to her advantage, taking the time to observe him.
He didn’t look like he had been sleeping much, judging by the dark bags under his eyes and his continuous restrained yawns. Not that he was one to sleep much before but it seemed worse. His hair looked like a bird nest and he had ditched his usual Captain-Time Master attire, replacing by a casual black shirt and worn out sweatpants. Sara tried not to stare at the prodding ribs she could count through his shirt. She took comfort in seeing him always in movement; it contrasted with the way his brainwashed self had been always so still, deadlike. It reminded her that he was back and well. Well, for the most part.
Judging that she had stared for long enough, she gave a soft knock, smiling when Rip looked up at her, his eyes wide-opened.
“Been a long time since someone’s been here,” Sara commented lightly, dropping her box of cookies on the desk as she entered the study.
“Has it really?” Rip cocked an eyebrow at her before turning back to the mess currently residing on his desk.
“Yeah, we’ve been doing most of our work in the library,” she said, sitting on the couch’s armrest and sipping on her coffee, “Plus, it felt kinda weird coming in here without you. It’s always been your space,” she added with a nonchalant shrug.
It had been weird to enter his study. It was almost like entering the bedroom of someone who had died recently. A few days after Rip’s disappearance and Sara being appointed as the new Captain of the Waverider, she had tried to come in here to work. She had sat at his desk, put some of his vinyls when the silence was suffocating and read and re-read his personal notes, hoping she would pick on something most had overlook. But the office had still been too empty, too quiet. After that, Sara had decided to move in the library, where the others had unconsciously relocated to, ignoring the dark, empty and unused office on the bridge. Somehow, both Amaya and Nate had known better than ask about it.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Sara sighed, plastering a small, reassuring smile when a frowning Rip looked up at her, and ripped open the box of cookies next to her.
“What are you working you at such an ungodly hour?” she asked, shoving a cookie into her mouth.
“Uh… Nothing too important,” Rip dismissed with a wave of hand. Rolling his eyes at Sara’s unconvinced look, he sighed, “Just trying to make sense of things in there,” he added, tapping his temple with his pen, “What got you up at such an ungodly hour?”
She responded with raising both of her cup of coffee and box of cookies, cocking an eyebrow at him. Rip huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at her antics. Sara couldn’t help but smile victoriously at the soft noise, reminiscent of better times. Swallowing her food with a gulp of coffee, she jumped off the couch and made her way to him. She frowned as she watched him organize pieces of paper into two different columns.
“ ‘real’ or ‘not real’?” Sara read, her tone hesitant as her frown deepened.
“Uh, yes,” Rip cleared her throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “Like I said, I’m just trying to make sense.”
Sara hummed, taking another sip of coffee as she read what he had put under the two different categories. She froze as she noticed the ‘I killed Sara’ note put under the ‘real’ column. Nibbling on her bottom teeth, she threw a quick look at Rip, the latter being too focused on his papers to notice, before taking it away and shoving it in her pocket. Running her fingers through her hair, she sighed loudly.
“Well, do you need help with it?”
“I don’t think so,” he frowned, tilting his head to the side as he observed his work, “Well, maybe to fill the gaps. And to return things you’ve taken,” he added, holding out a hand without looking at her.
Sara blinked at him, her hands automatically finding their way to the pockets of her sweater. At Rip’s expectant look, she casually shoved her hands in her pockets and tilted her head to the side, her eyes wide in mock innocence.
“I haven’t taken anything,”
“Please,” Rip snorted, rolling his eyes, “I might not be at my best right now and be able to rely on my mind at the moment, but I’m no fool, Miss Lance. I have also happened to share living quarters with a pair of accomplished thieves for the better part of a year. Hand it over,” he sighed, making a ‘gimme’ gesture with his hand.
Sara restrained an amused smile at his, oh so familiar, done with and no-non-sense attitude, settling for a defiant scowl. Her grip tightened around the slip of paper hidden in pocket as he stared back at her, his expression undeterred, annoyingly patient and determined.
“So what? So you can wallow over it?” Sara countered, her tone taunting.
“So I can remember, make sure that it really happened,” he corrected, his eyebrows jumping higher on his forehead.
“Potato, potahto,’” she shot back, crossing her arms.
She smirked at Rip’s dramatic eye roll, his jaw clenched. Her lips pursed, she reluctantly took the creased paper out of her pocket, batting his hands when he tried to reach for it. Tilting her head to the side in thought, she unfolded it and placed in between the two columns with a content nod to herself. Looking up, she was met with Rip’s confused look, to which she responded with a smile and shrug.
“You did kill me,” she reluctantly admitted, raising a hand when he went to open his mouth, “And technically, it wasn’t. So it’s going to stay there. Want a cookie?”
He widened his eyes at the sudden change of subject, his eyes darting to the box of cookies she had been in front of herself before he looked back at her, his eyes narrowed at her. She returned the look, shaking the box while waiting for him to pick one out of it.
“Come on, you’re lucky I’m even offering you one. This is from my special and secret cookie’s stash. It’s a one-time offer. You’re not allowed to wallow, though or else, you’ll ruin the taste of it.”
With a small scoff, he threw one cookie into her mouth, chewing it loudly as if to prove a point. Snorting, she gave his arm a light punch and stuffed a couple of cookies in her mouth, pulling his desk chair as she downed the food with her now-cold coffee. Grimacing at the taste, she plopped down in the chair, her bare feet propped on the corner of his desk. Rip, too preoccupied by his task to care, didn’t have blink an eye or utter a complaint. Sara kept to herself, watching as Rip took a step back and observed his paper-covered desk through narrowed eyes, her gaze darting to his notes every now and then. She smiled to herself as Rip silently took a cookie, not bothering to ask as he leaned over to reach for the box. She pushed the box closer to him and held her cup of coffee in a silent question. Rip wrinkled his nose in distaste and shook his head in response, earning an eye roll from Sara. She had missed it, the weird way they communicated without having to say a word. She had missed coming in his office to watch him work, sometimes offering her help and counsel. She had missed watching him unconsciously moving his head to whatever vinyl she would put on, some times humming in approval and others, frowning in disapprobation.
Her gaze racking through the notes, Sara’s eyes widened and she coughed, choking on the cookie in her mouth.
“Are you alright?” Rip looked up at her, frowning in concern.
She nodded, waving him off as she got up from her chair, coughing into he closed fist. Clearing her throat, she downed the rest of her coffee before turning back to Rip, the latter staring back at her with a combination of confusion and concern.
“You kissed Gideon?!” Sara croaked out, her eyes wide-opened in astonishment.
Rip gaped at her, letting a small ‘oh’ of realization before looking back at his desk, scratching his scruff. His gaze stayed on the paper, unfocused as he tried to avoid Sara’s wide, inquisitive stare. Clearing his throat, he tipped his head to the side.
“It was in the spur of a moment,” he muttered with a nonchalant shrug, “My mind was desecrating, I didn’t know if I would make it and- what the hell is that face for?” Rip frowned down at Sara, the latter sulking with her arms crossed, the perfect picture of a petulant child.
Brushing back her hair with a sigh, she shrugged.
“Nothing, just- I wanted to be the one to kiss Gideon,” she shrugged again when noticing Rip’s disbelieved look, “What? She was hot.”
Shaking his head at her, he let out a snort and, running his fingers through his hair, leaned back against his desk, an eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his face.
“Gideon, Nyssa, the Queen of France: It’s like you’re on a mission to get involved with every woman you meet, no matter the time or place,” Rip teased.
“So many beautiful women, so little time,” Sara lamented, “Oh, let’s not forget Queen Guinevere,” she added with a snap of her fingers.
Rip’s amused expression vanished, only to be replaced by a scowl.
“You’ve got to be joking,” he deadpanned.
“Well, you can’t have Guinevere without her Lance-a lot,” Sara retorted with a curtsy, emphasizing on her name,
Rip scoffed and rolled his eyes, earning a snicker from the smaller woman. Taking a cookie out of the box, she threw it in the air and caught with her mouth, waggling her eyebrows in victory at an amused Rip. Swallowing the small biscuit, she stood on her toes and rested her elbow on the former Time Master’s shoulder, to which the latter responded with a raised eyebrow.
“So, during that kiss you shared with Gideon,” she started, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Did you feel… a spark? Was it electric-“
Rip groaned loudly, pushing her elbow off his shoulder while Sara laughed, apparently very amused with her jokes. Undeterred, she wrapped both of her arms around his and her chin went to rest on his shoulder. He threw her an exasperated look, to which she responded with a wide, innocent grin.
“You’re not as funny as you think you are, Captain,” he deadpanned.
“Oh no, I’m hilarious and you know it!” Sara shot back, poking his side, “You’re just jealous.”
“Am I really, now?” he barked out a laugh.
Sara nodded, her grin widening at the sound and her hold on his arm tightening. Rip’s expression softened as he stared down at her, his bright eyes shining with pride and something else she couldn’t identify. Clearing her throat, she tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear, resting her head on his arm – breaking their stare-off.
“Hey Sara?”
Both of their heads snapped up at the new, familiar voice. Amaya stood in the doorway, her gaze darting from one person to another. Clearing her throat, Sara slowly – reluctantly - detangled her arms from Rip’s, talking a few steps away from him. Rip crossed his arms, as if to make up for the loss.
“What’s up, Amaya?” Sara asked, falling back into her chair.
“Um…” she blinked at the duo a couple of times before shaking her head and plastering a smile on her face, “Nothing. I was just looking for the coffee pot.”
“Oh,” Sara leaned back, bringing a leg up and resting her head on her knee, “You’ll find it on the command board. You’ll have to heat it, though. Or make a fresh brew,” she added with a small grimace, ignoring Rip’s muttering about sloppiness and coffee stains being hard to get rid off.
Amaya gave Sara a small nod before turning on her heels and walking away. Stopping midstride, she twirled back around, her hands clasped in front of her and her head tilted to the side as she walked back to them.
“Is there anything I can get you, Mr Hunter, some tea, coffee?” she proposed, nervously wringing her hands.
Rip blinked at her, taken aback by the unprompted offer, before looking down at Sara, as if looking for her approval. Looking as surprised as him, she responded with a clueless shrug. Glancing back at Amaya, the latter patiently waiting for an answer, he nodded, his lips quirked in a half smile.
“A cup of tea would be much appreciated, Miss Jiwe. And there’s no need for such formalities, you can call me Rip.”
“Then I’ll believe that you can call me Amaya,” she returned, her smile genuine and her tone slightly teasing.
Letting out a small chuckle, Rip tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement, while Sara watched the entire exchange with obvious amusement. After Amaya had taken her leave, he looked down at her and cocked an eyebrow in question. She snorted.
“You’re so ridiculously British, it’s hilarious,” she muttered.
“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Rip frowned.
“ ‘A cup of tea would be much appreciated’, ‘there’s no need for such formalities’,” Sara repeated in a parody of his British accent, taking pleasure in his horrified expression, “You’re always so proper and polite.”
Rip rolled his eyes at her, stuffing a stolen cookie into his mouth.
“Well, someone has to be. Have you met yourselves?”
Lifting her head, Sara let out a dramatic gasp and tried to kick him in the shin, pouting when he easily dodged the hit. Glaring at his smug look, she went to take out a cookie, only to be met with the empty, bottom of the box. Sighing, she got up and went to get the second box she had discarded on his couch when entering earlier. A piece of paper with her name written on it caught her attention. Oblivious to Rip’s staring, she slowly traced the words graved into the paper with her finger.
Captain Sara Lance.
When she looked back at Rip, the latter was too busy pretending to be engrossed in his work to meet her gaze. Picking the paper, she shoved it in her pocket and ripped open her new box of cookies, slowly making her way back to her chair.
“Why did you take it off?” he muttered, not bothering to look up at her.
Standing next to him instead of sitting back down, she dropped the box of cookies next to him and shrugged in fake-nonchalance, pretending that a simple piece of paper wasn’t burning the tip of her fingers.
“You’re back, I suppose I have to step back since the rightful Captain of the Waverider has returned,” Sara retorted, her tone slightly bitter. Swearing inwardly at the slip, she ignored Rip’s knowing stare and plastered a smile on her face, “I was only the Acting Captain when you’re gone.”
“And I was gone for a long time,” Rip sighed, “A time during which you’ve stepped in and proved yourself to be quite the Captain, Miss Lance. I’m not stupid nor clueless, I’m aware that things have changed a lot in my absence, starting with the arrival of Dr Heywood and Miss Jiwe. Maybe, some of those changes were for the better,” he added, his tone light as he nudged her shoulder with his.
Sara’s smile turned a bit more genuine at the affectionate gesture before turning into a frown, her fingers tightening around the paper, as if thinking that he couldn’t possibly take it away from her if she held onto it hard enough.
“It’s still your ship, none of us know the Waverider like you do, ” Sara insisted, “You’re still the official Captain and this is still your crew.”
“We’ll agree to disagree on that,” Rip snorted, “Let’s be honest, they listen to you more than they’ve ever listened to me. And I’m pretty sure I lost my title of Captain after blowing up the Vanishing Point,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. Noticing that it did nothing to ease her internal turmoil, he sighed, “Miss Lance, do you enjoy being Captain?”
Sara was slightly taken aback by the question. Never, since she had stepping into Rip’s shoes, had she thought about it. After all, they had been in a rush and she had done mostly out of necessity and urgency. She had slowly begun to understand what being Captain actually entailed; the responsibilities she had seen Rip shoulder like a second coat in the last year as his second. Still, she hadn’t expected to actually like it and for some reason, she did. Maybe it was the prestige and respect that came with the title. Maybe it was the fact that she had finally succeeded in doing something good in her life.
“I do,” Sara breathed out, nodding, “I really do.”
“Well then,” Rip retorted, a small smile on his face, “you’ve got your answer, Captain.”
“What about you?” she shot back, her arms crossed against her chest.
His brow furrowed in confusion, he mimicked her stance and tilted his head to the side.
“What about me?”
“Didn’t you enjoy being Captain?” she shrugged, throwing his previous question back at him.
She watched his jaw clench, almost expecting him to shut down and begin to ignore her. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed and lifted a shoulder.
“That’s all I’ve ever known,” he admitted, his green eyes glazed as he reminisced, “Ever since I’ve been a lad. My whole life has been shaped with the idea that I would become,” he made a vague gesture with his hand around himself, “this. A Time Master, a Captain. I don’t know if I enjoyed it, though. You lot certainly didn’t make it easy,” he shot Sara a look, to which she responded with an eye roll, “Still, I wouldn’t know how to do anything else.”
Giving him a small smile, Sara nodded in understanding.
“I don’t know about that. You were a pretty decent film student,” she teased with a gentle nudge, her smile widening at his bark of laughter, “you made me the hero of your movie. Clearly, you know what you were doing. You were a pretty decent Captain, too, by the way.”
“Was I really?” he retorted, his tone dubious.
“Well, you… had your moments!”
Rip laughed at the remark, the sound comforting. Sara could count on one hand the times she actually heard Rip actually laugh. He often snorted in amusement and, every now and then, he would snicker. Hearing him laugh had been a rare thing, which led to Jax, Ray and herself to start a tally and bet on who would succeed in making him laugh – Jax and Sara were in a tie, with both two successes. Sara inwardly added a point to her score, watching in awe as Rip composed himself, his laughter dying to leave a grin on his face. She returned the grin and ran her fingers through her hair.
“I mean it, though. None of us would’ve been here if it wasn’t for you, Rip Hunter. I wouldn’t be Captain if it weren’t for you.”
“Well, I’m sure you would’ve manage-“ Rip started, rubbing the back of his head in sudden self-consciousness.
“Oh my God, dude!” Sara interrupted, punching his shoulder, “Learn to take a compliment, a’right? Jesus Christ.”
His eyes wide-opened, he stared at the shoulder she had punched before looking back at her in disbelief.
“…Did you just call me ‘dude’?”
“Urgh, yeah. Whatever, the point is” she brushed his retort with a groan, “you’ve made an impact on every person in this crew and it wouldn’t be the same without you in it. Honestly, did you think that we would’ve been through all of this if you weren’t worth it? Obviously not.”
Rip rolled his eyes at her, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from retorting the quip on the tip of his tongue, and cocked an eyebrow, expectantly staring at her. Sara sighed and grabbed a cookie out of the box, twirling between her fingers.
“I guess what I’m saying is that we need you here. I need you here,” she added after a moment of hesitation, avoiding his inquisitive gaze, “Captaincy, no matter how cool it sounds, is a lot to bear,” she added, her tone lighter.
Narrowing his eyes at her, Rip took a cookie out of the box and held it out in front of him.
“What are you suggesting exactly… The two of us sharing Captaincy?”
“Well, yeah. We work well as a pair,” she nonchalantly shrugged, “I’d be in charge of the team and you’d be in charge of the Waverider. How does that sound to you?”
His lips pursed in thought, he leaned in and, smirking at her intake of breath, reached into her pocket, taking the previously stolen piece of paper out of it. Leaning back, he tore it in two and held the half with her name written on it to her, knocking his cookie into hers as if they were toasting to something. Smiling in amusement at the small gesture, Sara looked up at him and tilted her head to the side, waiting for his answer. Biting into his cookie, he grinned back at her.
“It sounds great, actually.”