Chapter Text
Ray wasn't sure what was wrong with him.
Being a Legend was great. Saving the world was great. Wearing the ATOM suit was great. Beating up bad guys was great. Seeing the magical creatures was great. Living on the Waverider was great. Working with his friends was great.
All that was great. So why didn't Ray feel great?
Constantine had moved onto the ship three weeks ago, taking up residence in Amaya's room. When the warlock had shown interest in Nate's room, Ray had objected, stating that Nate wasn't not a Legend, just...occupied back in 2018. Constantine had simply said “fair enough,” and took the now-empty room where Amaya had stayed.
The group had seen to a few missions since Salem, but with each mission, Ray felt more out of place. At one point, he'd even fouled up an infiltration mission because he'd lost focus, and Sara wound up having to ninja kick her way out of a tight situation as a result. She was grateful for the exercise, but he still got an earful about it when they were safely back aboard the ship.
Ray stood in the med bay, his arms crossed and his head down, his mind racing with potential answers to his cloudy thoughts, but drawing up a blank. He was no biologist, but he had a hefty grasp on science in general, but science was failing him in this.
It was time to appeal to other experts.
“Gideon,” Ray called, “start diagnostics.” He sat down in the chair at the end of the room, placing his skull back into position in a frame used for brainwave analysis.
“Yes, Doctor Palmer.”
Ray heard a couple of whirring noises as Gideon scanned his skull. He sat as still as he could, his eyes closed. He tried to think of something specific – anything, really – but he simply couldn't concentrate.
“No abnormalities detected, Doctor Palmer.”
That wasn't good. Ray's brow furrowed. “So my symptoms are psychosomatic?”
“It would appear so.”
“That doesn't make sense,” the inventor muttered, his mind racing through potential causes of mental fatigue or stress. Unsurprisingly, he came up short once more. “I didn't even feel this bad after the Legends were disbanded last year.”
“Might I suggest a siesta in your room?” Gideon asked.
Ray smiled. Rest was always the road to recovery, no matter what! “That sounds wonderful. I think I'll do that. Thank you, Gideon.” He made it to his feet and, in usual Raymond fashion, almost skipped out of the medbay.
A few minutes later, Ray found himself alone in the metallic hallway, standing between two bedroom doors. Why he'd walked this way, he wasn't quite sure. Neither of these rooms were his – they were Nate and Amaya's, which were on the opposite wing of the ship from his own. Arms crossed again, Ray looked the closed doors up and down like they would give him some kind of answer.
Just then, the doors to Amaya's room split open, revealing Constantine with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a raised eyebrow.
“Can I help ya, mate?” he asked. “You've been standing out here for five minutes.”
Ray jerked to the present and rubbed his temple. “No. Yeah. It's okay. Sorry, John.”
Constantine leaned in a little, looking up to take a closer look at Ray's face. “You don't look so good, big man. You all right?”
Ray shook his head. “I don't know. I've been walking in a fog for weeks. Can't concentrate. Causing problems for me and everyone else. Started after we started taking on the magic fugitives.” A lightbulb went off in Ray's head, the first one in days. He shook a finger in Constantine's direction. “Maybe I got whammied by some magical beastie. Can you check?”
“I was about to go bring Mick's sandwiches to life for a good laugh, but I suppose I can fudge my schedule a bit, yeah. C'mon in.” The warlock motioned for Ray to follow him into the bedroom. Ray reluctantly followed.
Amaya's room had always been quite clean, almost minimalist, with a varied collection of things she'd taken an interest in regarding the late 20th century. Lots of records and magazine covers. Constantine had reformed the room – the lighting was lower, there were drapes hanging over nonexistent windows, and a large circular rug in the center of the room looked like it was made by Baby's First Demon Circle. And, most notably, the room smelled strangely like burned chicken. Constantine motioned to the rug, indicating he wanted Ray to stand on it.
“Won't take but a sec, luv.” John disappeared into a closet while Ray stood in the center of the room, feeling rather exposed.
As Constantine returned to the main room, Ray saw a large orange book in his hands. The smell Ray had noticed became a little stronger as the warlock approached, until he realized that the book was the source of the smell. Ray fought back a grimace.
“Real simple test,” Constantine announced. “Take this.” He shoved the book at Ray, who gingerly accepted it. It felt almost rubbery on the outside. “Turn to the first page.”
Mildly confused, but intrigued, Ray opened the book as instructed. Looking down at the page he revealed, he became more confused than the other.
“What do you see, mate?” John asked, his arms crossed in anticipation.
“Nothing,” Ray replied. “Is there something I should be seeing?”
Constantine shrugged as Ray closed the tome. “Nah. Just means there's no hex on ya. Only those trained in the magical ways or affected by the supernatural can read that book.”
“Why page one, then?” Ray asked, handing the book back to Constantine.
“Page one is pretty benign. Wouldn't want you opening it to some random demon summoning ritual and you accidentally absorbing it through reading the words, now would we?”
“Fair enough.” Ray shrugged. “So I'm not magicked up, huh?”
John returned from returning the book to the closet and shrugged. “Doesn't look it, mate.”
Ray sighed. Back to square one. “Thanks, John.” He turned to leave, but Constantine stopped him.
“It may not be magic, but I would recommend shaking off whatever it is that's bummin' ya,” John suggested. “All that negative energy isn't good when you're dealing with the mystical.”
“Negative energy?” Ray arched an eyebrow.
John smirked and gave a lazy wave to indicate Ray's whole person. “I can't even see auras and I can tell you're sad. Or mad. Or somethin'. You're...off.” He walked over and slapped Ray on the back. “It's all good, mate, everyone has off...er...weeks. But you might wanna get it straightened out before it hurts one of our esteemed associates. Or me,” he added.
“I'll do my best,” Rey muttered as he stepped back out into the hallway.
John stood on the other side of the door, his hand on a panel next to the frame. “Good. Good luck, mate,” he said. There was a loud hiss as the door slid shut, leaving Ray alone in the hallway once more.
Later that day, Ray found himself in the galley, sitting at the table with his fabricated lunch, when Mick appeared from the hallway. Ray watched Mick walk to the fridge, but didn't say anything, opting instead to pick idly at his meal. Soon, Mick was seated across the table from him, beer in hand. They sat in silence for quite some time.
“So what's wrong with you?” Mick finally asked between swigs.
This sudden interest in Ray was unusual, to say the least. Ray looked over at Mick in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Normally, you can't wait to say 'hey, Mick,' or 'how's it going, buddy,' or something else touchy feely and stupid. But this time, nothing.”
“Guess I'm not feeling like myself, sorry.” Ray leaned forward and put his head in his hands.
“Not that I care, but it's bumming everyone else out,” Mick grumbled.
“Really?” Just what Ray wanted to hear: the others were aware of his condition, and it bothered them.
Mick grunted his acknowledgement and took another swig of beer.
Ray sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking helplessly up to the ceiling. “I don't know. What do you think, Mick? Gideon says there's nothing clinically wrong with me, and John says it isn't magic, so does that mean it's emotional in nature?”
Mick's eyes were vacant as they bored into Ray's forehead.
Ray didn't notice. “But if it's emotional, what's the cause? Am I mad? Sad? Grieving? Clearly, it's interrupting my normal thought processes. What am I so hung up on?” His attention moved from point to point around the room as he contemplated. “Is it Nora? I mean, sure, I'm concerned I didn't do the right thing, but overall I'm confident that will work itself out. The fugitives? Nah, that's just us being us.”
Mick continued to sit, silent, beer floating up near his mouth, but never taking a drink, as Ray stood up and began pacing the room.
“Amaya? Nah, it's been months. She was a good friend, but I'm well beyond that by now...”
Mick groaned and slammed his beer bottle on the table, nearly causing Ray to jump out of his skin. “I'm done. Go find Pretty and complain to him.”
Ray froze, his arms tense and his eyes wide. He turned to Mick. “Sorry?”
Mick rose to his feet and sauntered toward the hallway. “I'm not good at this stuff. Or maybe I am, and I just don't care. Pretty was always way better at this than me. Go get your head shrunk or something.”
What did he say?
Pretty? He wanted Ray to go talk to Nate about this? But Nate was at the Bureau – he'd been there for weeks. Sure, Ray would have loved to talk with his best friend about this. Nate was always such a good listener, and offered such interesting insights, especially when it came to Ray.
It really would be nice to hear Nate's voice right about now.
The pounding in Ray's chest became a powerful staccato, vibrating his whole body with every timpanic strike. His face burned. He steadied himself on a galley chair. The fog in his mind suddenly cleared, as if a fan had suddenly turned on and blew it out of the way. There, in the center of Ray's mind, almost illuminated by his sudden clarity, was a singular, solid figure, hands on its hips and its square chin raised in defiance.
Ray tried to shake the image out of his head, but it persisted. Nate's form, his face, withstood everything Ray could do to remove it. Soon, Ray stood perfectly still, one hand on a chair and the other on his forehead, his eyes wide.
“Ohmygosh, I miss Nate,” Ray muttered, still staring at a fixed point on the floor. “And not just 'miss' him. I miss him.”
He ran his hand down his face, feeling the stress slough off as it went. His knees felt weak, and he plopped down in a chair before he could fall on his back. His mind was clear, and he could feel the ice in his veins slowly warming. He was coming out of a frozen state, almost like waking up from a bad dream.
“What am I gonna do? What do I do?” he asked no one in particular. “I...I don't know what to do. That's so unlike me.”
Just then, Zari appeared in the doorway. “You all right, Ray? I thought I heard someone panicking in here.”
Ray blinked away a portion of his confusion and gave Zari a half-hearted smile. She raised an eyebrow, and he gave a deep, defeated sigh.
“I thought I was, but I really wasn't,” he admitted. “But Mick helped me realize what was wrong.”
Zari's silent expression told Ray she didn't believe him.
“I know, I know, it's weird. But he did help, in his own little way.”
Zari found a seat across from him and leaned hard on the table. “So? What did you realize? Is it why you've been in a funk for a while?”
Ray chuckled, not making eye contact with his friend. “Z, have you ever fallen in love with a friend you'd known for a while, but didn't know it for a long time?”
Zari's eyebrows almost reached her hairline. “Woah, Ray. I'm flattered, but-”
“Not you,” Ray laughed. “Sorry. I didn't mean you. But seriously. Have you?”
Zari nervously scratched at something behind her ear. “Actually, yeah, I have.”
“Did it work out?”
“I never told them,” Zari muttered, looking away.
“Well, I want to try.” He looked at her sheepishly. “Is that dumb? Is that a bad move?”
“I hope not, because I wanna see you try,” Zari said, flashiing him a warm smile. Well, warm for Zari. “Who's the lucky girl?”
Ray suddenly looked away, his cheeks hot.
Zari's jaw dropped, then her lips curled into a wide grin. “It's not a girl. It's – oh, that is adorable, Raymond!”
Ray, now a little confused, gave Zari an arched eyebrow.
“It's Nate, isn't it?” Ray's mouth folded into a thin line. Zari laughed into her hands. “Wow. Ray, that's...”
“I don't know what to do,” Ray admitted, letting his head fall into his hands. “I'm just figuring this out now, because he's not here anymore. Did I miss my chance? Is that it?”
Zari contemplated this for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “Oh. Well, if I know Nate, I think I know what you should do.”
“Really?”
Zari gave a confident nod. “Absolutely. Just follow me.” She leaped to her feet and led the way out of the galley, Ray curiously on her heels.
The Bureau's bathroom was nice, but being able to crash at home for a while had been a blessing for Nate. With Hank in the loop about the Legends and the Bureau, things had been different between them, to say the least. With all the increased conversation came an invitation to stay with Hank and Dot until Nate found a place of his own.
A place of my own. Huh.
It was weird to consider having a place to call his own nowadays, what with the Waverider still feeling like a home away from home to Nate, but it could be...time to settle. Sara and Ava were settling, after all...
Nate shook his head and used the bathroom mirror up at the Bureau to adjust his tie, his thoughts still sort of flubbed about buying a house. The pay from the Bureau was incredible – way past what any of the universities Nate had “taught” at had offered – and the benefits were great, too. Nate hadn't ever considered a government job before, and now, he kind of wished he'd tried for one sooner.
Stepping out of the bathroom and heading toward the main lobby, Nate passed several people in important-looking suits, including one very late Gary Green, rushing along like something was chasing him. Nate just smiled and his head swiveled to watch Gary flee the scene as quickly as he could.
Ava – err, “Director Sharpe,” as she'd told him to refer to her at work – stood at the console in the main cortex, her hands behind her back as she monitored the myriad screens on the Wall of Time (which Nate argued was a terrible name, but Ava insisted it stay because it was what Rip had called it).
“Director, I'm here,” Nate announced. He assumed a similar posture to Ava before she turned around, his head held high. It felt good to feel important, and as a Legend and a historian, Nate's experience and expertise were highly valued here. He didn't just feel important, he was important.
“Good,” Ava said as she turned to face him. She opened her mouth to speak, but balked. Her face twisted into amused confusion. “I, uh. Hmm.”
A brief pause. This was not the welcome Nate expected. “Something wrong, Director Sharpe?”
Ava smirked. “I wasn't planning on this today, that's for sure.” She crossed her arms with a smile. “Nice to see you again, Raymond.”
Surprised, Nate turned to face his brother-in-arms, but as soon as he saw Ray, he froze.
Standing there, admist the suits of the Bureau, was Ray Palmer, in a dark suit of his own, his face as red as the roses he held in his hands.
“Hey, Nate,” Ray punctuated with a quick clear of his throat. “I, uh, was hoping you'd be in today.”
Nate didn't move. “Ray? Buddy?” His words were slow, delicate. “What's going on?”
If possible, Ray's face turned even deeper red. “I was, uh...”
Ava stood on the far side of the main console, her arms crossed and her lips tight, trying to contain the grin that so desperately wanted to show.
Nate shot Ava a confused look, but saw her almost constipated expression and gave a laugh. “Oh, I get it. But, Ray, Ava's taken. Sara would kick your ass if she heard about this.”
Ava couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst out laughing, startling every other Agent in the room. “What? No, Nate. No.”
Ray locked eyes on Nate, his face reminiscent of an innocent forest creature staring down an oncoming vehicle. “No, Nate. You. I'm...I'm here for you.”
Nate swallowed hard, his heart thumping hard in his chest. Without warning, his skin rippled into steel, and he heard the tearing of several seams of his now-too-tight suit. He didn't care.
Ray gave a very small, insecure chuckle. “I, uh, know you're allergic to a lot of pollens, so these are fake. But I was hoping you'd take them anyway.” He stepped forward and reached a long arm out, the red roses suddenly in Nate's face. Nate took a step back at first, then cautiously reached up and took the flowers. Steeling down, he looked down at them, his eyes lingering on several in turn.
“Anyway, I would be honored if you would...”
Nate looked up and locked eyes with Ray, wondering how he was going to hear the rest of the request through his heart pounding in his ears.
“That is, I...”
More silence from Nate, who wasn't even sure he was breathing anymore.
“Oh, come on, Raymond, you're an adult. This is embarrassing,” Ava snapped. Her expression, however, was anything other than stern.
Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes to center himself. Then, very quickly,
“Nate Heywood. I miss you. To be honest, I can't stop thinking about you. And I would be honored if you'd accompany me to dinner.”
Nate didn't say anything at first, his eyes locked on Ray. Then, “...You mean like a date?”
Ray, his eyes filled with a determination Nate hadn't seen in some time, nodded. “Like a date.”
Ava started a slow clap that picked up between the other Agents in the room. Nate looked around, this turn of events replaying in his mind.
He looked back at Ray. “Are you serious? Me?”
Ray's signature grin spread across his face, and Nate's own cheeks turned hot. “Yeah. You. So, what do you say?”
Nate looked down at the faux flowers in his hands, then back up at the innocent, bright eyes of his best friend.
“Ray, I...”
“Just give him an answer, Nate, we have things to do today,” Ava said with a chuckle.
Nate huffed. “Hoo. Okay. Uh. Well, then, Ray...”
Ray's grin widened, and Nate's face warmed even further.
“I...”