Chapter Text
Sara stared at the desk, and for a moment she could see him standing over it, staring at loose papers and folders and maps, all scattered across the wood in a heaping mess. She could hear his muttering, hear him talking to himself as he mentally plotted their next movements. She watched as he spun rapidly, the tails of his coat spinning and walked over to pour himself a drink. It was late at night, everyone was asleep, and of course he would be in his office at this hour, having a drink and thinking so he could avoid sleeping. It was just so very like him.
With a sigh, Sara took one hesitant step towards the empty office.
It was late and most souls aboard the ship were sleeping, but she just couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was a trait of being captain of the Waverider, something Rip had unknowingly passed down to her when he disappeared, and again when he left. It was that last part that troubled her. He left. Left the Waverider. Left his home. Left the team. Left her. He left under the guise that they didn’t need him anymore, that they were perfectly capable without him.
That wasn’t true though.
They did need him.
And it wasn’t until she walked into his office after he left that she really saw it. Because everything was still there. That room that felt like the very center of Rip’s heart was still there, filled with the things Rip had collected on his journeys. And walking in there felt like the very first time, the time she’d thought she’d lost him for good. When she’d thought he’d died.
Goddammit, she could still see that hologram of him saying goodbye when she closed her eyes. Could still feel the very moment her heart dropped when she heard that he had died.
So she stood on the steps of his office, gazing in like someone staring through a glass display at a museum. Staring at the things that could be observed but never touched and it felt just like then.
He wasn’t dead. She could remind herself of that all she liked. He wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t gone forever, he just left.
But goddamn she wished he hadn’t. She wished he was by her side. Wished he was sitting in that chair, sipping a glass of scotch and reading a book and pretending he didn’t need sleep because that was so very Rip Hunter. And she would stroll in and make him get some sleep. Of course he’d complain about it, argue he didn’t need sleep. Eventually he’d give in and go to bed, but maybe first she’d sit down and have a drink with him and they’d talk. Just talk. Talk about anything. Talk about the mission. Talk about their families, who they lost. Talk about their adventures before they met. Talk about being captains. And eventually they’d go to bed. And everything would just be normal. They’d be side by side, travelling through time, fixing time, even if they messed it up sometimes.
But they couldn’t do that if he went running off.
She knew why he left. He needed to figure himself out. After being resurrected and trying to fight the bloodlust, Sara had left. She couldn’t begrudge him for needing what she needed. It didn’t stop her from wanting him back.
And God did she want him back.
Because staring at the artifacts of all that he left behind was tearing holes in her chest that she couldn’t fill. Not with him gone.