Being born of a British background Rip had no concept of this Fourth of July what so ever. He'd never once experienced such a thing, not even when his travels brought him to America. Though, the Legends had told him it was a decade old holiday. Rip was still not entirely convinced, however. And perhaps that's how he found himself in the god awful situation. He should have known better than to tell the Legends his skepticism of the holiday, because of course they decided to bring him along on their latest celebration. 

They brought him, along with his daughter and their own children, to a large open field. It was very crowded; one couldn't walk a meter without bumping into another person. Not to mention the food was mortifying. Why was everything in America made with so much sugar and carbs?

Still, he could have suffered through all that, as Ellie Jo seemed to be enjoying herself, and he didn't want to ruin her fun. She and Blake Vasquez were exchanging thoughts on which form of sign language was easier and more efficient - BSL or ASL. Laurel was showing her the American flags, pointing at it and explaining exactly what the design meant. Rip didn't even have to interrupt for her, because the Legend Kids went slowly enough that she and Blake could understand and read their lips.

But things grew absolutely intolerable, when it got dark. Everyone gathered around, sitting on picnic blankets and staring up at the sky. Mosquitos buzzed around, biting people, making them grumble and complain. Still, everyone stuck around, eating their despicable food, carrying around giant star spangled banners. Some small children ran around wildly, waving little American flags. Two teenage girls up in the park's bleachers wore identical headbands with flashing red, white, and blue lights.

A rather large man, possibly even larger than Mick Rory, wore a massive, fluffy red, white, and blue wig that looked rather itchy. He was screaming into the crowd very loudly, "MERICA!!!" Rip suspected he was probably very drunk.

The Legends found a large space to dump their candy and blankets. Some of them even brought folding chairs to sit in. The teenagers and Ellie Jo ran off to go buy glow sticks...for some reason.

Rip thought he'd go blind, there was so much neon colors. Mostly red, white, and blue...but still! Banners and poster boards hung randomly all over the place. There several flashing lights and smoke machines. Music blared from unseen speakers. Children screamed and giggled with delight. It was all so very loud and bright. Then, things started exploding, and Rip lost his shit.

Alright...nothing actually exploded, but it had sounded like an explosion. One moment, the speakers were loudly playing America's national anthem, the next a whistling noise shot through the air and -

Something crackled in the air, sizzled like fire; and then it popped. It sounded like someone had set off a bomb. Bright lights of all colors of the rainbow appeared in the sky. Rip felt the ground rumble angrily underneath him. He jumped to his feet at once, heart racing, eyes wide.

"Bloody hell!" he gasped.

The Legends snickered, but Rip didn't find any of this experience very humorous.

"Calm down," Sara told him. "It's just the fire works."

"The...what?" Rip blinked.

"Fireworks," she repeated.

Rip was about to ask her whether or not she was just making up terms to confuse him, when another not-explosion went off, filling the field with bright light.

He flinched, as the ground vibrated once more. He didn't like it. It was too loud, too bright. Three more not-explosions happened, and each time Rip felt his heart move faster and faster.

Suddenly, the former Time Master felt the need to run. He needed to get out of here. It wasn't safe. Everyone was going to die. He glanced around the field. No one was moving. They were all just staring up at the lights and pointing, smiling and laughing. Why weren't they afraid? Why weren't they getting the hell out of there?

Rip wasn't in the field of the park anymore. It was 2166. There was dirt flying everywhere, people along with it, as bombs exploded through out the city. Laser guns were fired, bringing innocent people down within seconds. The city was in ruins. Vehicles were over turned; buildings were destroyed. Bodies littered the ground, their dark red blood staining the once luscious green grass.

Rip crouched behind a fallen tree, as all around him innocent people were being killed by Vandal Savage's men. Bombs continued exploding. They were at a distance, but Rip could still feel the after effects, the ear piercing rumble the rolled through the ground, sending tremors all throughout his body. Lasers shot through the air, casting bright lights across the ground.

All around, people were screaming. Crying. Begging for mercy. It was the only thing Rip could hear besides the explosions. Slowly, Rip peered around the trunk of the tree. From across the street he could see two figures - a woman with long dark hair and a little boy with dark blonde hair.

For a moment, Rip allowed his spirits to lift. His family. They were so close! He moved, ready to go to them, but then -

"Help! Please!" The cry made Rip crouch back into his hiding position. He glanced to the right and felt his heart sink. Suddenly, he felt as though he might be sick.

Vandal Savage was sauntering down the streets, his personal body guards flanking either side of him. He had a long beard and dark hair; he wore a suit much too elegant for battle. His guards shot the man who had shouted without even flinching. Simultaneously, another explosion went off. Rip flinched, watching as Savage and his men approached Miranda and Jonas. One of the guards raised his gun, aiming straight at Miranda's chest. He fired. Rip screamed. She fell, dead before her body even hit the ground. Savage stepped closer to Jonas. They spoke a few words, before he stepped away. And then...and then...

Someone was shaking him, gripping his shoulder tightly. Rip blinked. He was back in the park with the Legends. They were all staring at him with concern, even Mick and Leonard. The kids gawked, eyes wide. Strangers glanced over occasionally, looking at Rip like he might belong in a psych ward. Sara was at his side, a firm grip on his shoulder. She looked at him with her intense blue eyes.

"What happened?" Rip asked, confused.

"You screamed," Sara told him.

"I did? I don't remember..."

Another round of those non-explosions went off -- fireworks, as Sara had called them. This time there was a whole bunch of them at once, firing off nonstop for a whole minute. Rip cringed at the sound.
Ellie Jo looked over and frowned. "Dad?"

"I'm fine," Rip lied.

"No your not," Sara said. "C'mere." She grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the group. She lead him off the field, away from the crowd, away from the noise and lights.

Everything was fuzzy. The world seemed to be spinning in three sixties around him. His mouth tasted like he'd eaten a cotton ball. (Though, Laurel had forced him to try cotton candy early, so that could have been the reason behind that particular sensation. They were the same thing, in Rip's opinion. Not to mention it was called cotton candy. What a dreadful thing...) Rip's hands were shaking, and his legs felt as though he'd just run fifteen kilometers. His heart beat against his rib cage, like it was trying to escape from something. Though, the further they got from the crowd the less rigid his nerves felt.

Once they were a good distance away, Sara paused next to a police car. (Apparently some people liked to get wild during these holidays, so the city placed officers everywhere.)

Sara sat Rip down on the edge of the side walk. "Better?" she asked. He nodded slowly. She sat next to him.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I didn't think about it. The loud noises, the exploding of the fireworks..."

Rip just stared at her in response. He wasn't catching the meaning behind her words. What was she saying?

"It happened such a long time ago, I guess I just kind of forgot," Sara went on. "And we were all use to it by the time we went there as a team. I didn't think about what it might've been like. Before..."

Rip blinked again. "Sorry?" he said. "What are you talking about?"

She rolled her eyes like it should have been obvious. "Savage," she said. "2166. The war, the fighting, his killing your family..."

"...What about it?" Rip asked, feeling on edge again.

"I guess I'm gonna have to spell it out for you," Sara sighed. "You had a panic attack, dumby."

Rip scoffed slightly. "You think I had a panic attack about Savage?" When Sara's facial expression refused to be anything but a concerned friend, Rip rolled his eyes. "That's absolutely absurd. Savage has been dead for two decades."

"That doesn't mean what he did hasn't effected you," Sara pointed out. "He killed your family. That's not exactly something someone just gets over."

Rip stayed silent. He hadn't felt the loss of his wife and son weigh him down in a very long time. Of course, he still missed them deeply, but he thought he was finally in decent place when it came to that subject. He'd moved on. Found peace. Why were they talking about it now?

When Rip failed to respond, Sara went on. "You were in a war. Which is a scary situation for anyone, even trained soldiers."

"....What's your point?" Rip asked, growing quite agitated.

"My point is that you have PTSD, Rip."

He stared at her. "PTSD?"

She nodded. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

Rip didn't say anything, trying to process her words. So, she continued, "When I was a little girl my father use to come home from work. He was a mess. Certain things would set him off. Loud bangs. Screams. Being a cop...it was a hard job to adjust to..." She sighed, playing with her finger nails. "Years later, after Lian Yu, I had nightmares. Sometimes when I was sleeping...sometimes when I was a wake. The littlest things could send me back there..."  

Rip thought about his hallucination, the vision of the night Savage slaughtered his family. He shivered at the memory, before shoving it into the darkest pits of his mind never to be seen again.

"It's been over twenty five years," Rip protested. "If I was going to develop a stress disorder I would have developed it the moment I put the Legends together."

"Okay...we're pretty stressful," Sara nodded. "I'll give you that. But that's not exactly what I meant."

"Any distress that I've felt towards those events are long gone," he insisted.

"Are you sure about that?" she challenged. He failed, once more, to give an answer.

"I know better, Rip," Sara told him. "Some of the things I've done still haunt me. Some of the things I've seen...So, don't think for a second, especially after what just happened back there, that I'm actually going to believe your okay about any of your crap."

Rip just stared back at her. He groaned. Why couldn't this damn night be over already? It was awful, and he hated every minute of it. He'd much rather be on the Waverider, traveling to some random time period, away from all the patriotic Americans and their strange holidays involving those non lethal bombs called fireworks.  

Sara stared back at him, defiantly. Her arms were crossed, her eyes narrowed. The White Canary, stubborn as ever.

"Fine," Rip grumbled. He didn't like opening up, exposing himself, like this. It was much easier to bury it all. "I saw the night he killed them," he admitted. "In a hallucination. It was like I was reliving it." He paused, taking a deep breath. "It was the worst moment in my life."

Sara put an arm around him. "There, now, that wasn't so hard was it?"

Rip scowled. "Yes! It was!"

She frowned and removed her arm. "I know," she said, sounding genuine. "I'm sorry, Rip." She nudged him lightly, a small grin on her lips. "How about to make it up to you, we let you take us some place horrible?"

Rip laughed lightly. Though, there were a number of horrible places he could have taken the Legends, he didn't actually want to put them through some horrible experience on purpose. Besides, he suspected the statement was meant to be taken as a joke and not literally.

After a while, the others came around. Laurel had informed the pair that they'd missed a spectacular finale, but other than that there wasn't any mention of their absence or Rip's little scene. The, admittedly very large, group simply walked all the way home, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. Which Rip was grateful for. He didn't want any of those awkward moments with everyone fussing over him. 

Moral of the story? Rip Hunter hated the Fourth of July with a burning passion, and he wished to never again experience it.

-----

So, I know this was a little dark for a celebration one shot, but if you know anything about me or my writing, you'll know I love angst and heart wrenching crap. So...there you go. This was actually a lot of fun to write. I love torturing characters, don't you?

Lemme know if there's any grammar errors in the comments. I'm too tired to edit.

Hope you enjoyed. That's all for now,

Toodles!

~ Elsie