Chapter 7: My beating heart held in your hands
*Rip*
"Gideon," I say quietly, my eyes never leaving Sara's searching gaze. She's absolutely glowing despite her discomfort. "Captain Lance has suffered an injury to her foot, and her neck is also in pain. Can you please assist?"
"I'd be happy to, sir," Gideon replies warmly. "Captain Lance, you have a fracture in your foot which I will repair for you shortly. As for your neck, I will apply some heat therapy for you if you'd please place the required apparatus."
I slide the warming pad under Sara's neck as she lies down and nestles into it, sighing with relief as the soothing heat seeps into her sore flesh.
"Gideon, you're a goddess," Sara says gratefully.
"Don't be so quick to thank me," Gideon answers apologetically. "I will now instruct Captain Hunter on how to heal your ankle, which will result in some brief discomfort."
I pick up the piece of medical tech which Gideon indicates and point it at Sara's foot. "I'm sorry I have to do this," I tell her, squeezing her hand first.
"Don't worry about it," she reassures me, flinching only slightly as the injury is repaired. Then, at last, she can relax.
"Come here," Sara murmurs, and I feel I've been waiting my whole life to hear her say those words.
I pull a second bed over next to hers, sliding the rail down out of the way and climbing on top of it so that I can put my head on a pillow directly beside her smiling face. "Just rest," I whisper, running my fingers first over her flushed cheek and then the beautiful, tangled tendrils of blonde hair that have slightly matted to her forehead. I kiss her forehead and her eyelids flutter back down, her breathing slow and even, contented.
"Just rest," I repeat, a feeling of satisfied peace coming over me such as I haven't known in many years. I pull a blanket over us and snuggle close to Sara, my arm resting lightly over her waist. "Gideon," I murmur sluggishly, feeling almost drunken with the sensation of blissful sleepiness that descends upon me as I nuzzle closer to her shoulder, the pillow infused with the heat from the healing apparatus.
"Say no more, Sir," Gideon replies, and I hear the "wink" in her voice that makes me smile as I drift further towards unconsciousness. The lights go out and we're enveloped in nothing but good dreams.
*Sara*
"Good…morning!" Ray's chipper voice greets us the next morning as the hideously bright lights in the med lab go flickering back on and I groan.
"Ugh," I complain, sitting up and touching my neck. The pain is gone, and I shift my ankle back and forth to find that my foot feels healed as well. Living on a spaceship has quite a few fringe benefits.
"Sorry," Ray says meekly, totally failing at suppressing an approving grin at the sight of Rip and me.
"Dr. Palmer," Rip sighs, climbing off of the cot, "Please redeem yourself by saying you've brought coffee."
"Not so much," Ray replies sheepishly, holding up empty hands. "Just came in to let you guys know the latest on the Time Masters. Some of us spent the night grilling your old pal Reg, and boy, does that guy know a lot of galactic gossip!"
"Reg?" I repeat warily. "Ray, please tell me you're not getting a man crush on DeBoer."
Ray shrugs. "Okay, maybe a little tiny one, but that doesn't mean I excuse any of his actions. But did you hear about what he did to the warp core of his ship? Or how he outsmarted the Time Masters' tractor beam? Wow. And if I'm saying that, from a scientific standpoint, that's really saying—"
"The update, Dr. Palmer?" Rip asks impatiently.
"Oh. Yup! Well, as it turns out, this new iteration of Time Masters have actually been true to their motto of purely protecting the timeline, so far. Reg knows quite a bit about that Chrysalis device of theirs, too."
I cross my arms and feel my brow start to furrow way earlier in the day than I would have preferred. "Do tell."
"It's basically Oculus 2.0," Ray fills us in, "it performs the same function of showing the so-called true timeline, which these Time Masters believe in with religious-level fervor. The husk surrounding the inner device was designed to be impervious to all attempts to break into it by anyone not committed to the cause. In fact, supposedly the Chrysalis can actually detect whether or not the person holding it is a believer. And of course, while we just look out for signs of potential or actual aberrations and swoop in for damage control, the Time Masters are more militantly controlling matters. From what Reg says, they put the smack down on anyone who even seems to be contemplating an aberration-causing move, and especially anything that would interfere with the version of the future wherein the Time Masters come into power and call the shots on what everyone is allowed to do across galaxies."
"So they're stalking the universe and protecting their own power at all costs," Rip summarizes, frustrated. "Sounds awfully familiar to me."
"Our goal moving forward has to be to find some way to limit their absolute power, make them beholden to some kind of moral structure," I state matter-of-factly. "We can't let them get away with reestablishing their despot police state in the future, not without some kind of red tape."
"This will be a new tact for the Legends," Rip observes ironically, "Usually we're the ones climbing out of tangles of red tape."
"Well, there's never a bad time to make a new beginning," I wink, knowing he senses my double meaning involving us. Ray looks back and forth between us and smiles again but makes no comment.
"We still have to finish up with your old pal DeBoer," I remind Rip as we head off to our respective quarters to freshen up before resuming our frenemy's interrogation.
"I know," Rip replies, kissing my cheek, the light and sweet sensation giving me an immediate buzz. "I'll see you in there."
When we enter the brig, DeBoer is looking pretty glum. He's sitting on the floor in his white shirt and dark green trousers, a bit of stubble on his face, his fingers impatiently drumming beside him. He looks up and sees us, then crosses his arms and levels us with an accusing glare.
"Hello there, Time Canary," DeBoer snipes with sarcastic glee, "To what do I owe the honor? Here to make me some more promises you don't intend to keep?"
"Time Canary?" I repeat, raising my eyebrows. Then I get the reference and chortle. This guy's got a nickname for everyone and everything. I smile slyly at Rip and resume, "We do plan to release you, DeBoer; we always intended to keep to our deal, but we also needed information from you first. That's been squared away, and we're grateful."
"Now all that remains are a few assurances from you, and you can be on your way," Rip adds, slipping his hands into his pockets as he strides back and forth, his tone cautiously cordial, underpinned with a silent warning.
"Well, alright then, my dears," DeBoer replies, standing up and placing a hand on his heart, raising the other hand upward with a ridiculous, faux-angelic expression. "I promise that never again will I ever kidnap anyone, and I will most certainly never use underhanded means to gain a new object for my admittedly luscious and deeply admirable collection." We gawk at him in clear disbelief, so he adds, "Scout's honor, really. From now on, I'm just the universe's most unbelievably handsome, brilliant, and charming explorer, engineer, and antiquer."
"If you decide that you like storing history's brilliant minds in that creepy ship of yours a little better than doing the right thing, you can be sure we will find out, we will find you, and next time, we aren't going to cut you any deals. This brig will be your new home," I declare.
"Fine, fine," DeBoer agrees, rolling his eyes. "You don't have to say it like that, as if I'm keeping their brains in jars on my mantel. God, like I don't have enough problems with people thinking I'm insane just because I have unique proclivities — inclinations which would have benefited many others, I should hardly need to add. I promise to abide by our deal. However."
"What?" I demand suspiciously.
"I just have a funny feeling that you Legends are going to come looking for me sooner than you think. And it won't be because you caught me swiping Christopher Marlowe for a little jaunt across the stars. No, it'll be because you need my help. Despite everything, I find I'm quite looking forward to that day. My last promise to you is that when that happens, I will smirk. A lot." DeBoer slings his jacket over his shoulder as we lower the force field keeping him in the cell and he steps out of confinement.
"I actually have one more question," I can't help saying. Something's been bugging me since we got back from the Chronos. "Why did you just happen to have a device on you that could shut off that superpower-inhibiting system on the Time Masters' ship?"
"Oh, that. I'd have thought you realized that I invented that suppressive technology. Countless uses for that, you know. A very cool item in one's arsenal. But I'll tell you what, sugar plum. Never ever put a poison out there in the universe unless you're going to carry the antidote up your sleeve wherever you go. You never know when that will come in handy either."
"Just how many antidotes are you carrying around?" I wonder aloud and earn myself one of DeBoer's trademark smirks before he touches his finger to the side of his nose and makes his exit.
"Interesting friend you made back in the day," I say to Rip, stepping close to him automatically, pulled magnetically into his orbit with blissful ease. His fingers land on my waist as he grins.
"What can I say? I seem to have a natural inclination for befriending the quirky and untraditional." His blue eyes sparkle with humor and affection for me, mixed with intrigue at what may happen next between us.
"Lucky for us," I answer, feeling the heat in my cheeks as the chemistry between us sizzles palpably.
"No, I'm the lucky one, Sara," Rip corrects me.
I take his hand and nod to the door. "Well, are you coming?"
When we get to my quarters, we crash into each other as soon as the door slides shut, my back against the wall as Rip's passionate kiss threatens to make me weak in the knees.
And anyone who's met me knows that isn't easy to do.
The moment is incredibly surreal, like we both can't believe it's true — that we admitted our feelings, that we both love and want each other so badly and it's actually all coming together. Once, it seemed as if the chances of that were a little worse than one in a million.
"Tell me what you want," Rip murmurs sexily in my ear, his lips trailing from there down to my neck. "I want to know everything you like. So that I can give it to you."
"Wanna know what I like?" I answer, pulling back to look into his eyes as I finger the collar of his coat. "What I want?" His gaze is inquisitive. "I like you. I like this." I slowly slide the coat from his shoulders, then turn my attentions to his dark blue t-shirt, the one that brings out the color of his eyes so magnificently. "And I like this," I continue, pulling his shirt off, carefully letting my fingers graze over his bare stomach and chest as I go. He sucks in his breath and shoots me a look that tells me my attentions are much appreciated. I let the shirt fall to the floor like the coat before it and slide my fingers down the sides of his torso until they land at his belt.
"I think my kink is you," I explain shamelessly, removing his pants and letting him stand there far more exposed than I am, his answering grin all too delicious to me.
"I've got the craziest coincidence to tell you about," Rip replies, that exquisite accent always more than I can really handle. My eyes rake over his lean, gorgeous body with barely-contained desire.
"Is that so?" I answer, and he steps forward, his fingers roaming beneath my black t-shirt, stroking my back as he guides the shirt upward. I raise my arms as he pulls the sheer long sleeves gradually over my arms and hands, drawing out the process in sweet revenge for my similar treatment of him, taking the time to run his fingers over every inch of flesh he's bared.
"Yes, it is," Rip resumes, kissing first my upper chest, then the space between my breasts, before his lips wander to the waist of my black pants, which he removes so that we're both standing here, clad in our underwear, eye-screwing the hell out of each other. The delectably playfulness of the moment is underlaid with the tense feeling of longing that means this game of tentativeness can't go on much longer.
We move forward at the same time, enveloping each other in arms that are almost frantic. His body is hot and hard against me as I kiss his mouth, pressing against him so that I can feel how aroused he is. Once I do, it takes my breath away.
"You're all I want, Sara," Rip tells me, his voice ragged. Instinct seems to propel us backwards towards my bed, but the progress is slow-going and fumbling, since we can't stop kissing and touching each other long enough to look where we're going. Every moment of feeling his mouth on my skin, every new sensation as I explore him with my hungry caress, just gets better and better.
By the time we basically trip over onto the bed, I can't help but to pull his hands down to my panties, desperate to progress further and deeper. He shakes his head and instead unclasps my bra, placing it lovingly to one side. With the slightest graze of Rip's fingers against my hardened nipples, a jolt of torturous pleasure hits me, radiating right through my core until I bite my lip and thrust my hips up slightly. He grins at my reaction and hooks two fingers into the back of my black hipster panties, cupping my backside and then finally pulling the underwear off altogether.
"Stop teasing me," I plead somewhat hypocritically. I think he can tell that I like it quite a bit given my breathless moaning and bucking against him, especially when he takes one of my nipples between his lips, then moves to the other, gently nibbling and then sucking, his fingers teasing my entrance at a far-too-leisurely rate before he slips one, then two inside.
An urge towards sweet vengeance gives me the strength to push him slightly away from me, just so I can get him underneath me and pay him back for his onslaught of slow tempting. I pepper his chest with kisses before running my tongue down the length of his torso, causing Rip to shiver, the aching bulge in his boxer briefs straining for release. Now it's my turn to give a smile of satisfied power, thoroughly enjoying his clearly begging groan as I kiss my way down his length through his underwear. I think he's suffered enough, so I remove said undergarment and provide some further attention to the area, his fingers raking through my hair, his breathing urgent and fast, until I'm sure we've both waited far too long to take this all the way.
The salty sweetness of his rock-solid flesh under my tongue has pushed me so far past the brink that I'm hasty to feel more of him, to give him more pleasure as his strong hands wrap around my waist before dropping to my hips. I sit up and then sink down on his arousal, my eyes squeezing shut as my mouth drops open, the immediate shock of erotic sensation taking me over. Rip's fingers tighten at my hips as I start to move, both of us relishing the feeling brought on by my gradual, then quickening rocking against him.
Rip fluidly moves us so that I'm beneath him as our fingers intertwine, grinding into the mattress as he thrusts into me deeply, the new angle presenting freshly exquisite waves of pleasure. I don't think I can take another minute without dissolving into orgasm, and it hits me with such intensity that I cry out, clutching his shoulders as he moans and finds his own release.
For some reason, instead of collapsing back onto the mattress for a rest and post-coital chat like any sane people would, we hesitate momentarily, sweat threading our hair and beading our foreheads, breaths coming heavy and hearts pounding, our eyes meeting with a gaze just as bold as anything that just happened. Then our lips collide again, hunger for each other eclipsing acknowledgement of exhaustion, our tongues tangling shamelessly before I bite down slightly on his bottom lip, causing him to retaliate my sucking on mine. I look down at his body in surprise. "Really?" Nothing wrong with his stamina.
Rip raises his eyebrows and grins. "Really."
The second time is much slower, and by the time we're done, I don't think I could move a muscle, I mean not even if I saw a bottle of good whiskey and a big slice of chocolate cake across the room. "Damn," I murmur, lying back across his arm that's strewn helplessly across the bad. Rip looks over at me and nods.
"That's a good way to put it," he agrees. "I'm feeling somewhat regretful that we're ever going to be obligated to do anything else but that. Or this," he adds quietly, pulling me into his arms as we slide easily into a spooning position. The comfort and solace of the moment, with my spent, tingling limbs adding to the feeling of dual excitement and relaxation, is perfect.
"I probably shouldn't even say this out loud, but I can't believe we're actually allowed to have this," I admit. "Happiness hasn't exactly been the norm."
"It's not even in my nature to accept happiness as anything that could possibly last," Rip replies. He kisses my shoulder. "But Sara, do you think perhaps this time…we should believe it's possible?"
I laugh, but more from disbelief at my own emotional journey and where I've ended up than any glimmer of amusement. "Yeah. I think I already believe it's possible. This might sound crazy, but I know it is."
"I think you're absolutely right, Captain," Rip answers me, smiling against my skin as we nestle closer. "But then again, you usually are."