When Deserey woke up, she groaned.

She sat up, or tried to, anyway. Her head was pounding, like there was a rave party going on in her skull. She couldn't remember much of what had happened, but from the way her stomach churned she guessed she must have been drinking again.

But when she tried to get up again, she realized why she couldn’t.

There were restraints on her wrists again, leading her to believe she was in the Medbay again. And with a quick glance around she saw that that was, in fact, where she was. Deserey groaned, laying her head back on the chair. “Gideon, can you let me up, please?”

“Not on my watch.”

Leonard stood above her, and after glancing past him, Deserey realized Rip, Mick, and Sara were behind him. They all had scowls on their faces.

“What is this?” she asked them, scowling right back. “Suicide watch?”

“Pretty much,” Sara admitted. “You were drunk off you ass. It’s why Mick knows. You pretty much told him.”

“...I don't need bodyguards,” Deserey told her. She would have folded her arms over herself, but she still couldn't move her arms more than an inch off the armrest of the chair.

“Well, too bad, ‘cause you got them,” Mick grunted. “I saw Lenny here go through the same thing, and I’m not letting it happen to someone else if I can help it.”

Everyone looked surprised at the statement, Rip most of all because he hadn’t known Len had depression.

Dez groaned again. “Why do you care? Why do any of you care? You don't even know me. We just met…”

“Can’t keep using that excuse,” Len told her, speaking for the first time since she had woken up.

Deserey found herself wanting to reply with, “Can too!” but somehow stopped herself, instead choosing to glare at them all.

“We're a team,” Sara told her. “And like it or not, we've got your back.” The three men nodded in agreement behind her.

“If that were true, you'd just let me die…” Deserey muttered.

Mick coughed awkwardly. He hadn’t known it was that bad…

“Well, that’s not gonna happen,” Rip told her. “So get used to it.”

She sighed. “Can I at least get up? This chair is murdering my ass.” She shifted uncomfortably to prove her point.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Sara muttered. Deserey glared at the woman who was supposed to be on her side.

“Why not?” she hissed, annoyed.

“Because we put everything back out while you were asleep,” Sara replied.

Deserey rolled her eyes. “Like you're gonna let me go anywhere near anything I could kill myself with.”

“Still.”

Deserey sighed. It wasn’t like she had started out less suicidal. Why was she being locked down now? It felt like she was being held captive for her feelings, for her mental illness. She was a prisoner because of something she couldn't even control.

“Why can’t we let her out? She’s right, you know. One of us can be around her, and we are allowed to have some trust in her,” Leonard said.

Deserey looked up at Len in surprise before remembering. He knew exactly how she felt. He always did. Somehow.

“That's...a good point,” Rip nodded slowly.

Sara looked reluctant, but she nodded. Mick looked like he was barely paying attention, lost in his own thoughts.

Rip ordered Gideon to let Deserey out of the restraints. But as soon as she stood up, he gave her a stern look. “If we see you try anything, we'll put you right back in here. Not to make you feel like a prisoner, but none of us want to see you hurting yourself. And if this is the only way to stop you from doing so...then so be it.”

Deserey felt sick, but she nodded anyway. Of course, this only angered her hangover, so she fell. She would’ve hit the floor, except Len, being closest to her and having some of the best reflexes (only beat by Sara, if Sara did), he caught her.

“Argh,” she groaned, holding her head, as the mini rave grew more intense. “Hell...I'm never drinking again...probably. Unless I drink myself to death…”

Mick, for some reason, just snorted. When everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged. “I just don’t think you can do that,” he told her. “I’ve gotten drunk and been drunk for almost 75% of my life. You just can’t die from it. I actually tried to, once.”

Now people’s expression were shocked. Apparently, she and Len weren’t the only suicidal people in the room.

“Well, why isn't he getting stalkers?” Deserey huffed, thinking this was a little unfair.

“Because I didn’t ask Sara if she had any knives left,” Mick retorted.

Deserey paused, the memory vaguely coming back to her. Damn. She really wasn't subtle when she was drunk… Then again, who was?

“Still,” she grumbled.

“Dude, everyone in this room has attempted suicide,” Sara pointed out. Len didn’t try to deny, Mick had just pointed it out, and she was he one who said it. Rip was the only one who tried to protest, but soon realized that wasn’t working.

“When I found him,” Rip muttered, barely loud enough for Deserey to hear. “When I found my son, dead in my arms, I tried. I don’t know who saved me, or why, but I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“And I actually died,” Sara pointed out again.

“So?” Deserey said. She knew it was insensitive and childish, but she was blinded by her annoyance. Why couldn't they just let her die in peace? The mission would go a lot smoother without her, anyway. Sara was an assassin, so she could easily help kill Savage without his knowing what was coming. Leonard could formulate plans within seconds. Mick was just brutal enough to do whatever needed to be done. Ray and Stein were by far the smartest ones on the team, so it was pretty obvious why they were there. Kendra and Carter were the only ones who could actually kill Savage, so they were pretty necessary. And Jax, being half of Firestorm could be useful as well.

But Deserey? All she could do was whine and throw sand around. How was that even remotely helpful? What was she supposed to do? Blind Savage for a few seconds? That was stupid.

“So I know death isn’t better,” Sara replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Then what is?” Deserey asked miserably. “If life is hell… And death is hell. Then, what's the point of anything?”

“I don’t really know,” Sara answered honestly.

The group stood silently, each turning over their own sorrows in their mind. After a moment alarms started blaring

The five men and women exchanged looks, before running out of the med bay towards the bridge. Firestorm, Ray, and the two hawks were already there, waiting for them next to the center console.

"What's going on?" Sara asked.

"We are being besieged by another time ship," Gideon informed the team.

"Chronos," Carter guessed.

Rip ran to the console, glancing at the information on the screen at the center of the table. "It would appear so..."

"Well, he's persistent," Deserey muttered.

"What do we do?" Kendra asked.

"Uh...strap in?" Rip said, as he made his way to the pilot's chair. The team immediately moved to do so, plopping down in their chairs. As soon as the last person had lowered the harness over their chest, the ship rumbled, jerking the team from side to side.

Deserey grunted, as she accidentally bit her tongue. She clamped her jaw closed, locking her tongue behind her teeth in the process, hoping she wasn't going to bite it off by the end of this. The ship continued shaking violently, sending her sliding across her seat, in spite of the safety harness around her upper body. At some point, she vaguely recalled, her head banged against the head rest, making her vision a little fuzzy.

"How does he keep finding us?" Ray wondered, clutching onto his harness tightly.

"Doesn't matter. Shouldn't we be firing back?" Len asked, holding his arm rests.

"Gideon?" Rip said.

The Waverider shuddered, as missiles fired from the under belly of the ship. The missiles flew through the air, heading for the opposing time vessel.

Chronos fired his own missiles back at the Waverider, hitting them hard. The Waverider shook, rattling all of its occupants. Wires fell from them ceiling again, and sparks flew across the room. The Legends jumped, startled.

The Waverider whipped around, firing blue lasers at Chronos's ship. He fired back with his own, green, lasers, once again reminding Dez of Star Wars. (Whoever had made the Time Masters' technology must have been a huge George Lucas fan, Deserey guessed.) Chronos fired another missile, hitting the Waverider hard. The Legends' time ship shuddered and groaned loudly.

Deserey felt her head rattle, and she felt a wave of nausea, as the Waverider lurched to the left, before skyrocketing into the clouds.

"You do realize the oxygen is thinner up here?" Leonard said. Deserey wondered how he managed to keep talking without biting his tongue off. She could hardly keep herself from moving around on the seat, never mind talking without hurting herself.

Rip ignored the ice villain, though. He kept his gaze locked on the sky just outside the window, his hand placed on the lever on his chair's arm rest. Deserey shivered, as the atmosphere grew colder around them. Sara and Kendra held on to their harnesses, shuddering in the cold. Carter and Jax were making faces, as the ship continued shaking violently. Mick was scowling. The only one who looked remotely comfortable was Len, but Dez could tell even he was a bit chilly and irritable.

Deserey groaned, her vision swimming. Her stomach was tying itself into knots, as the ship flew higher and higher into the sky. The air got colder and colder, the farther they went, making Deserey groan even louder. She'd never really liked the cold much, especially the suffocate and crush your lungs in deep space kind. Dez liked warm, sunny places where her mind could wonder and her creativity could flow easily. Her life was already dreary enough, she didn't the whether dragging her down, tensing up her muscles and making it difficult to do anything.

Luckily, the Legends were only subjected to this state for a few minutes. As soon as the Waverider was completely hidden among the clouds, the familiar orange glow surrounded the time ship, burning like a camp fire. In a burst of speed, the Waverider disappeared into the sky, narrowly avoiding another one of Chronos's attacks with a last minute time jump.

{~}

The Waverider touched down in the center of a small meadow, just like it had in the '70s. Though this time their surroundings were slightly different. In the distance, the Legends could see white picket fences and fancy houses, like something straight out of a magazine -- tall two storey buildings with large balconies and huge bay windows... Except it was a little hard to appreciate the beauty, considering the Waverider's rough landing.

The ship slammed into the ground, skidding across the yard for several feet, before finally coming to a stop. Deserey felt her teeth rattling, as she smacked her head on the head rest again. By the time the Waverider finally stilled, her whole body ached. Her jaw was sore from clenching it so tightly throughout Chronos' attack; her hands were stiff from clutching onto her harness strap for so long.

Deserey lifted her harness over her head. The buzzing she had felt on their first time jump was back, and her vision was blurred. It was as though a film had been placed over her eyes, causing everything to transform into giant blobs of multiple colors. At first, Deserey wanted to freak out, but then she remembered what Rip had told Stein about his blindness on their first jump. It was only temporary; it would pass after a moment or two. Damn time travel side effects.

"I'm not the only one who's vision is blurry in the left eye, am I?" Stein asked.

Deserey scoffed. "Nope. Mine's blurry in both my eyes."

"Yeah," Jax said, "and seeing three of everything? That's normal right?"

Deserey blinked, as the blobs in her eyes began clearing up, slowly forming concrete images. She could see Rip standing up from his chair, facing the team seriously. "As I've expressed, the effect of time travel on the human body increases with the length of each jaunt."

"So, where are we?" Kendra asked, sitting up.

Rip walked over to the table at the center of the room. He glanced at the screen, before turning back to the hawk warrior. "Harmony Falls, Oregon."

"Are you sure it's not Gravity Falls?" Deserey asked.

"What?" Carter asked, giving her a questioning look.

She shrugged. "I don't just watch adult cartoons, you know!"

As she was saying that, a large spark of electricity erupted from the back of the room. Deserey jumped, shrieking at the sound.

"If it were up to me, they would revoke your pilot's license," Stein said, rolling his eyes at the captain.

"'They' are more than welcome to," Rip said, "considering I don't have one."

Dez scoffed. "And we're letting you get behind the wheel?"

"Actually, Miss Dunet, I do most of the flying," Gideon told her.

"So, we should revoke Gideon's pilot's license?" Sara asked.

"Well, you could but then you wouldn't be going anywhere, would you?" the AI sassed.

"Ooh. Snippy," Deserey grinned.

Rip sighed, already looking very exasperated. This was a very stressful way to start a morning. First one of his crew members gets drunk off their ass, then Chronos nearly blasts them out of the bloody sky! "Gideon, what's out status?"

"When Chronos attacked, the jumpship was damaged," Gideon responded. "Unless you make repairs, we will be unable to --"

"Wait, wait," Jax said, frowning in confusion. "Jumpship?"

A blue, holographic image appeared above the screen of the table. It was a 3D model of the Waverider, an orange line pointing to where the damage on the ship was. (Which Deserey knew, because, above the orange line, was the word damage written in the same color.)

"It's a a small expeditionary vessel located at the belly of the Waverider," Rip explained. He stared at the hologram thoughtfully for a moment, like he was wondering how he could get away with not doing any more work on the ship himself. After a moment, his eyes lit up, as though he'd just gotten a brilliant idea. Rip pointed at Jax excitedly. "You're a mechanic! You have a look at it."

Jax scoffed. He looked around the room at the others, an incredulous look on his face, like can you believe this guy? "Auto mechanic," Jax reminded the captain. He gestured around him, like his surroundings were some amazing foreign ground. (Which they kind of were.) "Space ship."

Rip stared back at him, unblinking. He didn't seem to be even remotely bothered by what Jax was trying to say. The captain was clearly not going to take no for an answer.

Jax rolled his eyes, relenting. "Okay," he said, "if you've got a set of wrenches, I'll see what I can do."

Rip grinned cheekily. Mick folded his arms, glaring at the captain curiously.

"What about the rest of us?" the arsonist asked. "Do we just...sit?"

"Capital idea, Mr. Rory," Rip said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "You're not nearly as thick as everyone says."

Deserey snorted, leaning back in her chair. "There's a lot of sass going on today."

Rip shrugged her comment off, walking into his office and sitting at the desk, like a real boss. Jax walked off to find the jump ship, taking the professor with him.

"Thick," Mick muttered to himself. "Does that mean stupid?"

Deserey chuckled to herself, as she stood up, stretching, before walking out of the room. She paused in the hall, waiting to see who her stalker (or stalkers) of the day would be. The thieves exchanged looks with the assassin, before nodding at one another. Sara followed Rip into his office, and the two crooks followed Dez. She glanced around the room at the hawks and Ray, but none of them seemed to think the behavior strange, so she shrugged it off.

Deserey headed down the halls, walking towards the fabrication room.

"Why are we here?" Mick asked, as they came into the room. "We don't need any disguises, if we're just sitting around."

"We're not here to get disguises," Deserey said. She walked over to the screen, tapping some icons on it with her index finger. "I'm making you a new jacket."

Mick blinked, like he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. "Why?"

She gestured at the thick, dark brown one he was currently wearing. It was burnt all over. The arms were singed, and the pockets were torn to shreds. Mick had been wearing it since they'd boarded the Waverider. "I'm tired of looking at that old thing. It's gross."

The arsonist stared back at her, looking completely baffled by her statement. He glanced at Leonard, who was leaning against the wall, smirking amusedly. Deserey turned back to the screen, pressing more buttons. Her tongue was sticking out, as she concentrated on her art work. (It was a different form of art than she was use to, so it took more concentration than usual.) Every now and again she'd steal glances at Mick, trying to decide what would suit him better.

"Clothes," she explained as she worked, "tell a lot about a person. For instance, if a person wears a lot of bright colors and sparkly objects, they're probably pretty confident and happy. Darker colors mean they're probably one of those dark, brooding people. Someone with nice, ironed clothes probably has their shit together. Someone with dirty clothes with holes all over, is either really lazy or really...all over the place." Deserey scowled at Mick's jacket again. "And clothes shouldn't lie."

She scrolled through the colors on the screen, as the jacket she'd made slowly came together, virtually. "White indicates simplicity, precision and goodness. Blue indicates freshness, peace, and loyalty. People who like blue are also usually witty and sarcastic. Navy blue gives people a sense that you're in control."

As she said this last sentence, she became very aware of the fact that Leonard was currently wearing a navy blue parka. It occurred to her that she had never really seen him take his jacket off either. He'd been wearing it, even though it was a thick winter jacket and it had been in the middle of January, when Rip had gotten them. (All the snow had melted earlier that month. It wasn't even remotely cold.) She guessed that must have been the reason he wore it so often, to look in control. Though, whether or not the decision was a conscious one she had no idea.

"Green is...rigid...but also calming and easy on the eyes..." Deserey went on. Though this time it was more to herself than the two men. She stared at the different shades of green, sliding over to some of the slightly lighter ones. Deserey played around with the colors, fully aware that the two men were watching her intently. She finally settled on a color, when she found a nice, navy green.

Dez skipped over to one of the drawers, withdrawing a tape measure. Len eyed her, as she walked over to Mick. "You're in a better mood," he noted.

"Must be a good day," Deserey muttered back, as she wrapped the tape measure around Mick's arm. She wrote down the measurement, before moving on to his second arm and then his waist.

He was standing stalk still, like he still hadn't quite grasped what was going on yet. (Though, Dez guessed it was more likely that he was trying to figure out why it was happening rather than what was happening. She was pretty sure she'd made her intentions clear about making him a jacket.) She was glad for the bewildered state, because she got the feeling he wouldn't have let her casually take his jacket measurements otherwise.

When she had all of it written down, Deserey waltzed back over to the screen, punching the numbers in on the keypad, before hitting the big red button that said knit!

A blue light flickered over the manikin in the corner, a white laser whooshing over it. In an instant, Mick's new jacket materialized, slowly coming together like a picture being distributed from a printer. The laser moved up the manikin inch by inch, until it had finally reached the head of the statue. As it did so the fabric stitched itself together, appearing from seemingly no where and coming together like magic. When the last stich had settled itself into place, the light switched off.

Deserey grinned at her handy work. (Well, Gideon's handy work. Her design.) The navy green jacket was much better than the filthy brown one Mick had before. It was slightly smaller and more comfortable looking. The new jacket seemed to fit a lot better, too. (Deserey made Mick try it on.)

"Perfect," Deserey nodded at the old jacket. "Now...you can just kill that other one with fire or something. I don't care, but I don't want to see it again."

"...Sure," Mick said, looking a little awkward. Deserey couldn't tell if he liked the new jacket or not. She could tell no one had bothered to care about his clothes before, but Deserey refused to sit around and let people wear ugly clothes. (Or maybe that was the mom in her, longing to dress someone up. Something about motherhood really made a gal want to doll everything up, at least when it came to her kids, anyway.) Still, she hoped she hadn't over stepped somehow. It would be a shame to lose one of the few people who understood her mental issues...

After a moment, the awkwardness faded from the arsonist's face, and Deserey relaxed. And he didn't shove the new jacket in her face, so she assumed it was safe to say he probably liked it.

Kind of an awkward place to stop, I know. But it's almost four in the morning, and I'm tired. So, I gotta end somewhere.

I took some dialogue and stuff from different episodes, so there was a lot of going back and forth. So, I hope y'all appreciate the hard work I've put into this chapter!

You'll also notice that I am skipping a head a bit to where the Legends go to the '50s, but don't worry I'll go back to Russia and all that later. I have plans.

Um...I'm sure I need to say more, but like I said, it's 3:42 am and I'm tired so... Yeah...

Lemme know if you see any major mistakes in the comments so I can fix them later! I hope you enjoyed this chapter,