Archive of Our Own ^beta

Salvation, 1874

So, Mallus is a gigantic, terrifying monster who defeats them without even really trying.

It’s not as if their missions have a history of going smoothly or anything, but they’ve really screwed up this time. Behrad had barely finished hooking up the jumpship’s time-drive to the Waverider’s mainframe in time for them to escape from Mallus, and now Rip Hunter is gone, too, having given his life so they could run and hide.

He still doesn’t really know why they’ve chosen to hide out in North Dakota, of all places, but he’s learned not to question it at times like these.

Behrad never really got to know Rip, but he knows how much he meant to the rest of the team. Everyone’s blaming themselves for this mess, and even as they stroll through this town in full costume, the day feels dreary. Between losing the founder of the team and being completely trashed by a gigantic demon monster, nobody seems to be feeling very optimistic. Even Ray had looked pretty dismal, before he wandered off to somewhere else on the ship. Behrad feels pretty idiotic himself-- all this time, he’d been trying to help Amaya save her village, and Sara had kept warning him about what that could do to the timeline, but he hadn’t cared. He’d been so sure that there would be some loophole where everything would work out just fine, and now? Now, they’ve pretty much doomed the entire timeline to being ravaged by Mallus.

If this were any other trip to the Wild West, Behrad would be giddy with excitement-- he’d always loved the romance of cowboy-type stories, and it was one of the few things he and his baba had a common interest in, so even though he was born over a century after the fact, something about the classic Western setting feels nostalgic to him. He can almost hear the twang of strings and echoey percussion like a cinematic soundtrack around them.

“Yo, this is tight -- I know everyone’s dead. I know time is broken, but can we just--” Wally pops the collar of his own jacket and does a little spin as they continue walking down the dirt road, “--take a second to acknowledge this?”

Despite everything, it makes Behrad laugh. And the guy’s got a point-- that outfit looks incredible on him.

“Dude, you look hot .” He high-fives Wally’s outstretched hand. Wally laughs and wraps an arm around his shoulder in a side-hug. 

“You look pretty good yourself, my man. I’m sure if this weren’t the end of the world, you’d be getting lucky with the locals.”

“Not the time, boys.” Sara interrupts. “Mallus is still out there, and we need to get our heads on straight.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Behrad asks.

“Depends.” Sara responds, making a sharp left into what looks like a saloon bearing a sign that reads Last Salvation .

“On what?”

“How strong the whiskey is.” Mick joins Sara inside, and after exchanging a raised eyebrow with Wally, they both follow.

Inside, Sara’s already sitting at the bar and knocking back shots, and Mick grabs the bottle right from the bartender’s hands and empties it down his throat.

“Alright, I think it’s working. I am on the edges of a plan.” Drunk Sara probably isn’t the best at plans, but at this point? Behrad’s willing to try just about anything. “So, we know that the six totems are the only thing that can stop Mallus.”

“They weren’t much use to us last time.” Wally frowns. 

“‘ Us ’ being the key word.” Sara points at Behrad. “You and Amaya were born to wield the totems, and the rest of us are just…”

“Losers.” Mick growls, uncapping another bottle of beer and taking a very long sip. “That’s why Rip picked us… Snart, the Professor, those stupid hawk flying-chicken people. We’re all expendable.”

“Not that any of these unwashed hayseeds look like righteous totem-bearers.” Sara scoffs, looking around at all of the drunken locals.

“Who you callin’ a hayseed?” A gravelly voice rumbles from Behrad’s right. He turns, and sees a good-looking man in a very cool trench coat. Sara grins when she sees him and shakes the hand he offers her way.

“Jonah Hex.”

“You know this guy?” Behrad raises an eyebrow.

“Me an’ these ruffians go way back.” Hex turns towards him, and Behrad sees that the right side of the man’s face is deeply scarred. Honestly? It’s kind of sexy.

“Wally, Behrad, this is Jonah Hex.” Sara gestures to the man. Wally offers a gloved peace-sign in his direction. Hex looks Behrad up and down, his gaze piercing.

“I like your hat.” Behrad says, lamely.

“Thank you.” Hex says, not breaking eye-contact. After a moment too long, Behrad clears his throat awkwardly and turns away, glancing at Wally, who’s giving him a knowing look. Behrad tries his best to convey what-the-heck-just-happened via facial expression, but Wally just waggles his eyebrows in response. Very helpful.

“So, who died and made you sheriff?” Sara asks, flicking the golden, star-shaped badge pinned to Hex’s coat. 

“That’d be the old sheriff.” Hex sighs.

“Oh.”

“Well, now it’s my job to keep the peace around here.” Hex puts a hand on the gun holstered to his waist in warning. Behrad glances down at it, taking another look at Hex’s whole getup. The man looks like something out of an action movie-- leather shoulder-guards connected by straps that cross over his coat, golden-grey embroidered accents stitched onto his pockets, and a pair of weathered cowhide boots. He’s like a combination of the cool, action-hero type characters he used to fawn over as a kid, combined with the brooding smolder of the unfairly-hot villains. 

“We’re not here to cause trouble, we’re here to avoid it.” Sara promises. 

And of course, because that’s just the kind of luck they have, several gunshots ring out from outside.

As the rest of the bar patrons murmur warily, Behrad and the rest of the team follow Hex, who rushes for the door to check out the commotion. They move to block the wide dirt road, meeting three figures riding up to them on horseback.

“This the trouble you aimin’ to avoid?” Behrad hears Hex ask, wryly.

“Not exactly…”

Captain Blackbeard, Julius Caesar, and the Viking woman from New Valhalla stare at them with eerie red eyes, black veins across their faces.

“I thought Mallus wasn’t supposed to be able to find us here?” He whispers at Sara, who shushes him.

“Fools.” Caesar booms. “Mallus sees all, knows all.”

“Then why’d he bring back you jerks to do his business?” Mick grumbles.

“Because he’s probably still recovering from that beat-down that Rip gave him.” Sara says, staring Caesar down.

“Oh, now, do not confuse Mallus’ clemency with weakness, my hearties.” Blackbeard warns. 

“Mallus will spare your lives.” Caesar says. “If you surrender the six totems.”

“Yeah, we’ve only got two of them, at the moment.” Behrad says, feeling bold, all of a sudden. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hex turned in his direction. “Honestly, I’m a lot less scared of Mallus than I am of what my maman would do to me if I went back home without the family heirloom, so…”

“Then we have no choice but to march our army on your town and kill every fool who has given you shelter.” The viking woman tells them.

“You leave my town outta this.” Hex snarls.

“You have been warned. We’ll be back to collect the totems at… shall we say, high noon tomorrow?” Blackbeard smiles nastily, and the three villains turn back and ride in the direction they came from.

Yeah, they’re screwed.

---

Once they’re back aboard the Waverider to regroup, Sara orders Behrad to work up a temporal beacon to see if anyone will come to their aid and be the new totem-bearers. He still wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s confident in his programming skills, but he’s picked up enough skill by now that he’s fairly certain that it works, even if nobody decides to answer the call. 

“Pardon the interruption.” Behrad looks up from his screen at the figure in the doorway. It’s Hex, without the jacket, and the man’s vest hugs his torso very nicely-- not to mention that his rolled-up sleeves show off his toned arms. Hex removes his hat as he walks into Behrad’s room, holding it in both hands in a surprisingly delicate gesture. He approaches Behrad at the desk with that intense stare of his, but this time, it’s more earnest than piercing. “Captain Lance said you might need a hand.”

“Um,” Behrad raises an eyebrow. Help with coding? From a guy from 1874? “I think she might just want to be alone right now, or something. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer.”

On the wall, the viewscreen continues reviewing the program he’s set up, and beeping softly as it repeats the subroutines. The moving text and blip-noises catch Hex’s attention, and he squints.

“What in tarnation is that?”

“Huh. I didn’t think cowboys actually said that. Uh-- sorry, that’s a computer program I set up to act as a temporal beacon.” Hex looks confused, so he takes a moment to think of a suitable analogy. “Think of it like… a smoke signal. I haven’t actually sent it out, yet, but Sara wants us to find new totem-bearers. We’re just… a little short on allies, right now.”

“Well, the Legends, they may be an… unorthodox lot, but they got a knack for makin’ friends.” Hex offers.

“What, like you?” Behrad asks, smiling. Hex is surprisingly sweet, for such a tall-dark-and-handsome type. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he’s got a feeling that he’s being flirted with right now.

“I don’t take a shine to most folks.” Hex admits, but the way he’s looking into Behrad’s eyes makes him pretty certain that Hex isn’t talking about the team.

“We must be pretty special, then.”

Hex clears his throat. “Well, you send out a smoke signal… I’ll bet you a greenback you get a response.”

“Yeah, I think you’re probably right, but I’ll take that bet anyways.” Behrad stands up and offers his hand out to shake on it. “Sheriff.”

Hex steps forward slightly and clasps his own, rougher hand against Behrad’s in a firm grip. Behrad is a little bit taller than Hex, but it doesn’t feel like it, with how much presence the sheriff carries with him. 

“You can call me Jonah.”

After a moment, he breaks eye contact and releases Behrad’s hand and places his hat back on his head with a nod in his direction. 

“I’ll be seein’ you.” He says, simply, before turning and walking out, and leaving Behrad standing in the middle of his room, cheeks warm, and feeling the echo of Jonah’s strong hand in his. 

Then, he’s snapped out of his reverie by Nate’s voice coming from above, on the loudspeaker.

“Hello, this is Nathaniel Heywood speaking,” Nate introduces himself, like some weirdo with a bad podcast, “and we have a code one-one-three. Repeat, code one-one-three.”

One-one-three, according to the song Ray made up, means that “it’s off to the bridge, for you and me.” Behrad hurries back over to his desk to hit send on the beacon, before he runs off to the team meeting, trying not to think too much about flirting with handsome cowboys.

---

Nate’s seriously high on lyoga root, but Behrad thinks that he and Amaya have a point about trying to use the totems all together, this time. Even if Nate keeps comparing it to Voltron .

They’re back outside, on the outskirts of town, where Jonah had led them all to keep them away from the civilians, and gathered around a makeshift table by a roaring campfire. The sun will be rising soon, and they don’t have much time before their deadline of high noon, so this has to work.

“Alright, everyone. Make a circle.” Amaya orders, and they do, Behrad standing with Sara to his left, and Wally to his right. “Mick, your fire is going to provide our champion with its spark. Behrad, use your air to give it breath. Wally, use water to flow life’s blood through its veins. Nate---”

“I will use the Earth Totem to give Voltron flesh .”

“You’ve gotta stop calling it that.” Sara rolls her eyes.

“I will never stop calling it that.”

“I’m going to use my spirit to provide it with a soul,” Amaya continues, ignoring them, “But, without the final totem, our champion will be incomplete.”

She holds out the Death Totem to Sara, who shakes her head.

“No, it’s not happening.” Behrad can’t blame her. The last time she put that totem on, Mallus nearly killed the entire team, using her as a conduit.

“Without the Death Totem, the other five totems can only imprison Mallus. We need Death to kill him. Once and for all.”

“Don’t worry.” Mick says, loudly. “If you turn into a witch bitch, I’ll kill you.”

“Thank you.” Sara replies, sincerely, and that seems to have been enough to convince her. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

She lets Amaya drape the Death Totem’s chain around her neck, and they wait for a moment, watching to see if her hair will go silver again and Mallus will take over, but nothing happens. “We’re good!”

“Okay.” Amaya turns back towards the table. “Hold hands. Clear your minds and focus on your breath.”

Behrad takes Sara’s hand in his left, and Wally’s in his right, and closes his eyes, listening for Amaya’s guidance.

“Imagine a perfect warrior of justice, mercy, and light.” She says. Six distinct humming noises sound, and Behrad recognizes his own totem resonating with the others, and feels its warmth glowing red against his chest. He doesn’t really know what a perfect warrior of justice, mercy, and light looks like, but he can’t help thinking about Jonah and his handsome face and his cool scar and cool hat and cool jacket and warm, calloused hands.

“Why does Pretty have such girly hands?” Mick complains, from across the circle.

“Damn, this lyoga root is strong !” Nate says, probably still fuzzy from the high. “Concentrate, Nate. Think about Voltron, Defender of the Universe .”

“I kinda pictured myself wielding something cool, like a lightning totem.” Wally muses at Behrad’s right. So much for clear heads and focusing.

Behrad tries again to follow Amaya’s instructions, but his mind wanders again to Jonah. It’s not his fault-- what’s he supposed to do, when a sexy Wild West man shows up and starts giving him bedroom eyes? 

“Whoa, you’re calling him Jonah ? And he’s giving you ‘bedroom eyes’?! Nice, B! I didn’t know you had it in you.” Sara laughs. 

Wait, what? They can hear him?

“We can all hear each other.” Amaya says. Or maybe thinks . 

“Even what I said about Pretty’s girly hands?” Mick asks, and they all tell him, yes, even that . Honestly, Behrad’s not even that embarrassed that they all heard him thirsting over Jonah Hex. He could do worse.

“Okay, please. We need to clear our minds.” Amaya urges them, and Behrad tries again to focus. Justice, mercy, and light.

The totems hum again, and there’s a whooshing sound, and Behrad can feel the Air Totem working it’s magic towards the center of the circle. Behind his eyelids, he can tell that there’s a lot of light in front of him, but he keeps his eyes shut and keeps trying to imagine their warrior. 

Justice. Mercy. Light.

“It’s working!” Nate gasps, and Behrad opens his eyes, watching beams of light emit from each of their totems fueling their creation in the center, shrouded in a haze of fog.

“Are we making a baby?” Mick asks in a deadpan.

Eyes still closed, Amaya sighs. “Guys, we have to focus.”

“I can’t focus when I’m trying so hard to focus.” Behrad admits.

“Okay, this is why we’re not worthy of the totems.” Sara scoffs.

“Seriously, are we making a baby?”

“Everyone, just shut up!” Amaya orders, and then there’s a flash of light.

When the light dissipates, their creation is on the table, and it’s… horrifying, to say the least. They all jump back in shock, staring at the writhing mess of fleshy, bare-skinned limbs covered in goop.

“Oh, ew, is it supposed to be gooey?!” Sara yelps, when some of the goop splashes onto her sleeve. Behrad fights the urge to gag at the sight of the mangled thing.

Mick puts the thing out of its misery and roasts it until it stops moving. It disappears in the flames, which is a relief. Behrad doesn’t want to imagine how it would look all burnt like some sort of eldritch rotisserie chicken.

“Aw, Voltron…”

“Right, we need to try again.” Amaya says, finally. She holds out her hands, but Sara stops her.

“No. What we need to do is find some people that are worthy of using these totems.”

“If that’s not an entrance line, then I don’t know what is.” A glowing portal slides open, right in front of where Sara has begun to storm away, and four figures walk through it. It’s Ava, and behind her, the three others come into view.

The first is Helen of Troy, clad in golden armor, looking bright and confident in a way she hadn’t been, back when Behrad had snuck her off to Themyscira. The second is Kuasa, who Behrad’s pretty sure is supposed to be dead, but instead of her usual all black, she’s dressed in the same costume that her sister Mari wore in all the photos Behrad has seen-- the one that’s similar to the one Amaya wears, sometimes. And the third is dressed simply, in civilian casual.

“You guys just can’t seem to keep yourselves out of trouble, can you?” Jax asks with a grin, stepping out in front of them.

---

Behrad doesn’t get much of a chance to talk to Jax beyond a quick hug, because Sara asks Jax to hang back with her as they head back into town. Kuasa rushes over to talk to Amaya, Nate and Wally huddle up in blankets as they walk with Ava, and that leaves Behrad with Helen and Jonah. Not that he’s complaining, or anything.

He’s been wondering about how Helen was doing on Themyscira over these last few months, trying to stay optimistic that he made the right choice, and seeing her now, he knows that he did. Maybe he wasn’t totally in his right mind, helping her, but he’s glad for it either way, because she looks happy . And she deserves to be happy.

“I believe you owe me a greenback.” Jonah tells him, with the hint of a smile. Behrad can’t help the laugh that bubbles out from him.

“Yeah, I figured you’d win that bet.”

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I was hopin’ for some real soldiers.” Jonah murmurs in Behrad’s direction, glancing briefly towards Ava in her pantsuit and Kuasa’s yellow leather and side-eyeing Helen’s golden warrior-woman getup. Not quietly enough, though, because Helen overhears his comment and unsheaths her equally-golden sword and has it pressed up against his throat in one swift movement. It’s barely audible, but Behrad hears a faint noise of surprise escape from the sheriff.

“I’m Helen.” She smirks. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, little lady.” Jonah grimaces, pushing her blade away from him delicately.

“I was gonna say,” Behrad chuckles, pressing Jonah to continue walking with a hand on his shoulder, as Helen sheathes her sword, “This one’s full of surprises.”

“I should’a known better, knowin’ the likes of you lot.” He concedes, ducking his head.

“So are you.” Helen says, smiling at Behrad. “Instead of fighting over me, you fought to set me free.”

“Uh, it was nothing.” He blushes, looking away. He may not have gone crazy over her in old Hollywood, but she’s still an incredibly beautiful woman. “I was a little… under the influence at the time. Maybe if I was in my right mind, I would have been just as bad as the other guys. Or maybe it all just manifested differently and made me want to help you instead of have you.”

“You folks just can’t help yourselves, can you?” Jonah scoffs fondly.

“I don’t think you have a lot of room to talk, sheriff .”

“Hey!” As they approach the saloon, Wally makes his way over from where he was walking with Ava and Nate, still wrapped in a large blanket. Behrad hangs back and nods towards Jonah, who follows Helen inside. “Dude, if Mallus wasn’t after us, you would so be saving a horse and riding a cowboy right now.” Behrad gives Wally a playful shove, and the speedster just laughs. “I’m right, though! We all heard you when we were summoning Voltron.” 

“Okay, yeah . Given the opportunity, I would be all over that handsome cowboy.” Behrad admits, adjusting his neckerchief. "I mean, can you blame me?"

"He's not really my type, but I see the appeal." Wally shrugs as they step inside.

"So these are my Nana-baa's comrades." A smooth voice comes from the left, startling them both. Kuasa smiles at them, but this time, it's sincere, without any of the malice Behrad remembers from their previous encounters. "It's nice to meet you."

"Uh, you too." Behrad gingerly shakes her outstretched hand, and she tilts her head slightly.

"Nana-baa told me that you all knew a different version of me from a different timeline." She says, and he can hear the question in her voice.

"That's one way of putting it." Wally murmurs, and Behrad elbows him.

"Yeah. If it makes you feel better, though, this version of you is a huge improvement?"

Kuasa laughs, which is bizarre when he's used to the evil, murderous Kuasa who tried to drown him on more than one occasion. But in a good way, because she looks happy, because Amaya’s village was never destroyed in this version of history, even if that only lasts for today.  "I appreciate that. Really, it's an honor to meet you all."

"Happy to have you." Wally tips his hat in her direction. He nudges Behrad and points towards their right, where Helen is throwing knives at a dartboard and Jonah is staring at Behrad. When the sheriff catches Behrad's eye, he tips his own hat, then refocused his attention on Helen's impressive aim. Wally winks encouragingly at Behrad, turns towards Kuasa, and asks, "Can I buy you a drink?"

Behrad doesn't stick around to hear Kuasa's answer, choosing instead to stroll over to join Jonah and Helen. He sees Jonah catch sight of his approach, and turn to Helen. Jonah gives her his gun and motions towards a table across the way, far from any of the bar patrons, with a line of empty liquor bottles, and shows her how to use the gun, though she clearly doesn’t need it. Behrad watches as she goes across the line from left to right and shatters each one without missing a beat.

“Wow, nice .” He breathes. Without a word, Helen twirls the gun in her hand like it’s nothing and hands it gracefully back to Jonah.

“Damn. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” Jonah takes the pistol and puts it back in its holster.

“I learned to fight on Themyscira. But the Legends were the ones that inspired me.” She glances over towards Behrad and Sara, who arrived quietly to stand next to him by the wall. “They gave me the gift of a new life. It is an honor to be here to help you save yours.”

“Thank you. But we need to be teaching you to use the totems, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t learn that on Themyscira.” Sara says, getting ready to get back to business.

“That’s not why we’re here, Sara.” Ava interrupts. “We’re here to help you, not replace you.”

“Look, we’ve already tried, twice, and failed miserably.” She throws her hands up and starts to walk away, but Ava frowns and follows her.

“You still don’t see it, do you, Sara? You guys made Kuasa and Helen’s lives better. And that is just the tip of the iceberg. We are all here to support the Legends, and what, you’re just gonna stand here and tell us that you’re not the exact people to wield the totems against Mallus now?”

Sara stops, and so does everyone else in the room, it feels, because it’s quiet, and all eyes are on them, waiting for her response.

“Good speech.” She says, finally. Ava chuckles, thanking her. “And, uh, it’s a good point.”

“She’s right.” Helen whispers, sidling up next to Behrad. “I’d have died miserably if you hadn’t set me free.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Behrad insists. “That was all you.”

She shushes him, and Jonah laughs, joining them. 

“You’d best just take that compliment, I think. Otherwise she might change her mind.” Jonah tips his head towards the mess of broken glass on the table.

“You should listen to the sheriff.” Helen agrees, kissing Behrad lightly on the cheek. His face grows warm, and not just because of that-- Jonah’s gaze is still piercing, and between the two of them, he might just combust on the spot.

Then, Ray arrives, Nora Darhk in tow, and Mallus’ army decides that their time has run out.

---

They all split up to fight all the goons, and Jonah helps Behrad set up explosives while Helen keeps the mix of demon-infested Romans, vikings, and pirates at bay, moving like some sort of golden warrior goddess. The three of them all run back so that Jonah can shoot some of the dynamite to take out a clump of enemies headed their way. The blast is stronger than Behrad had expected, though, and it knocks him off balance and towards the ground, but he falls into Jonah, who’s reached around him to soften his landing.

“Thanks.” Up close, he’s even more handsome, and Behrad stares for a moment, until the noises of battle snap him out of it. “Uh, we should probably get back to fighting.”

“Right.”

Behrad scrambles to his feet and dusts off his pants, before offering Jonah a hand. He surveys the road briefly, and finds that everyone’s pretty much done-- the rest of the team, and their allies are standing tall, among the forms of their enemies, scattered across the ground, unconscious. The only sound is the wind, kicking up dust around them, but it feels too soon to celebrate. All at once, the defeated bodies start moving in sync, and Behrad sees a few open their eyes to show only dark, dark red, as they begin to stand back up.

“Go.” Helen declares, getting ready to fight again. “Make good your preparations. The rest of us shall buy you time.”

“You heard the lady.” Sara orders, and Behrad turns to go, but he stops, glancing at Jonah.

“Go.” He nods. “You give me that greenback, later.”

“That’s a promise.” Behrad smiles, and follows the rest of the team back into the saloon.

“Alright.” Amaya gathers them back into a circle, around one of the round tables. “We have to believe in the totems, that they’ve chosen each of us.”

“Well, if this really is the end of the world, I choose to surround myself with you guys.” Sara shakes out her shoulders, clasping one hand into Amaya’s and the other into Mick’s. Behrad settles between Nate and Wally.

Amaya repeats her instructions from their previous attempt, and Behrad closes his eyes and wills himself to really focus, this time. Through his leather gloves, he focuses on Wally’s hand in his right, and Nate’s in his left, and the red warmth blooming from the totem at his sternum. He hears the sound of the totems connecting, feels the energy building up at the center of their circle, and knows that this time, it’s going to work. 

“Can I peek?” He asks, and before anyone even answers, he can’t quite help himself from opening his eyes just a bit and taking a look at their champion. He nearly breaks the circle at the glimpse he gets of blue fur and googly eyes. “Oh, god .”

“‘Oh, god?’ What ‘oh, god?’” Amaya frowns. Sara sighs, reminds them to focus, and Behrad nods, closing his eyes again. “Wait, is somebody thinking of--”

“I’m sorry, you said think of something pure, and I thought--” Nate starts, and Sara must take a peek too, because she gives an exasperated groan. “Again, I said I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, I can’t stop thinking about him, either.” Behrad admits, eyes still closed. If anything else is said, he doesn’t hear it. The totems have worked their magic, and their champion is ready, and it’s time for Beebo, of all things, to save the day.

---

After group-hugging around their favorite grumpy arsonist, hauling themselves out of the crater, and cleaning themselves up from the fluffy, blue mess all over their clothes, the gang heads back into town to celebrate their victory as Ava’s bureau agents begin sending the small-fries back to their proper time periods and memory-flashing Salvation’s civilians. They can’t stay too long, or who knows what more damage they’ll do to the timeline, but they have enough time to revel in their victory, at least for a little while, and it gives Behrad the chance to finally catch up with Jax on the way back into town.

"Man, I cannot believe you didn't invite me to your wedding! After everything we've been through?" Behrad pretends to wipe away a tear, hand to his heart. “I’m wounded.”

"Chill, B. I haven't invited you to my wedding yet . You'll get there."

“I’m holding you to that.” He promises. “More importantly, what’s this I hear about a daughter?”

“Right, I was telling Mick, hold on--” Jax fishes his phone out of his pocket and swipes through a few photos of a very cute baby girl. “Her name’s Martina. For obvious reasons. Technically, she’s older than you are.”

“Wow, even after you’ve retired from the team, you won’t let me forget I’m the baby of the group.” Behrad laughs, swatting at him when Jax ruffles his hair. “I’ll have to look her up when I get back to 2042. We’re gonna become best friends. And then maybe I’ll pay a visit to her dear old dad, or something.”

“So, you’re going back, then?” Jax asks, putting his phone back into his back pocket. “Y’know, now that all this Mallus stuff is over. Are you gonna go back to your old life?”

“I, uh… I guess I hadn’t thought about it.” He admits, rubbing nervously at the golden chain around his neck. “I mean, what do you think? Now that you’re all settled down.”

Jax just pats his shoulder. “That’s not a decision I can make for you. But I will say, I’m gonna treasure the years I spent on that ship for the rest of my life. Once a Legend, always a Legend.”

“That’s really not helpful at all.” Behrad sighs, but he pulls Jax in for a tight hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Jax laughs, pulling away. “Speaking of settling down… Am I hallucinating, or did I see you makin’ goo-goo eyes at Jonah Hex ?”

“Wow, I flirt with one guy, and suddenly everyone wants to know what’s up?” Behrad shoves Jax lightly, and gets shoved right back.

“I’m just saying, you didn’t even blink at Helen back in Hollywood, but when tall, dark, and brooding over there looks in your direction--”

“Okay, first of all, I was high --” Behrad starts, defensively, but stops when he hears Ava clearing her throat awkwardly, off to the left.

“I hate to break this up, but Jax here promised to help me get Mallus’ cronies back home.” She says, one hand gripping the viking woman’s arm, and the other holding Blackbeard by his red coat. Helen follows her, with Caesar in custody.

“I guess we’d better get to mind-wiping these three amigos.” Jax sighs, taking Blackbeard off Ava’s hands. “You guys think this was crazy? Try having a kid.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Behrad grins.

“I bet you’re damn good at it.” Sara adds. Jax smacks her arm as he passes them, following Ava towards the portal to the Time Bureau. Sara smacks him back.

“I’ll see you at your wedding!” Behrad says, to the back of Jax’s head. In answer, his friend shoves Blackbeard into 2018, pivots around and gives both of them a two-fingered salute as he walks backwards into the future. The portal whooshes closed as Sara tips her hat at him. 

“Mind if I steal this one from you for a moment?” A gravelly voice appears at Behrad’s back, and he jumps, flushing at the way Sara smirks and nods at the man behind him, before sauntering off somewhere else.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Jonah takes off his hat. He almost seems… shy isn’t the word for it, but it’s endearing, and Behrad has to smile.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He says, and Jonah ducks his head, looking down at the hat in his hands. “What’s up?”

“Well, seein’ as though this is likely the last time we’re gonna see one another…“ He looks up, fixing Behrad with that bold, piercing gaze again. Then, he lifts his hat, offering it to Behrad. “Somethin’ to remember me by.”

“Wow.” Behrad takes it with a laugh. “That’s, um. That’s really sweet of you.” At that, Jonah smiles and it sets Behrad’s heart racing, and makes him feel just a little bolder. “I guess I should leave you with something too. So you don’t forget me, either.”

Then, he leans in to kiss Jonah Hex, raising one gloved hand to gently guide the other man’s mouth to his. Jonah jolts, slightly, like he wasn’t quite ready, but recovers quickly, hands finding Behrad’s waist. It’s short, and sweet, Behrad pulling away before he gets ahead of himself and derails their departure, and Jonah has to stop himself from leaning in to follow him, hands falling back to his sides.

“There.” Behrad breathes, face warm as he glances through his eyelashes at him. “How’s that?”

“I certainly won’t be forgettin’ you anytime soon.” Jonah murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear. “Goodbye, Behrad.”

He reaches up, like he means to tip his hat, before remembering his hat is in Behrad’s hands now, and just nods, instead, before turning away and heading back into the bar. 

Not bad, for Behrad’s first historical kiss.

He makes his way over to the road, where Amaya and Sara stand, talking quietly with each other, watching the bureau agents finish up their work. 

“I think the words you used were, ‘just one more mission.’”

“Hey, at least they didn’t just fly you over to the ship out of nowhere. And then they immediately used me as bait.” He says, resting one elbow on Amaya’s shoulder. She laughs brightly. “I mean, how many times have I almost died, at this point?”

“But you love it here.” Amaya says, smiling. “Once you get on this ship, it starts to feel like home.”

“Yeah.” He agrees.” I do. And it does.”

“And as much fun as this has been, it’s time for me to go home.” She says, gaze wandering. Behrad doesn’t have to check to know that she’s looking at Nate. “You guys are my family. Always will be. But I have another family waiting for me in the years to come. And they need me more.”

“Well, you always have a home on the Waverider.” Sara promises her.

“I’m gonna miss you guys.” Amaya pulls Sara to her side in a half-hug, and moves to bring Behrad in, too, but Sara stops her.

“Uhh, is that Jonah Hex’s hat ?”

“Yes, it is.” He confirms, proudly. Sara lets out a gleeful whoop and knocks the dark brown hat off of his head and grabs Jonah’s, cramming it over his hair as Amaya giggles. Then, she reaches around Amaya to give him a hearty clap on the back, so hard that Jonah’s hat nearly falls back off of his head. 

“And what about you?” Amaya asks, once their laughter has calmed down. “Are you going back to 2042?

“Nah.” Behrad decides, without hesitation. “I think I’ll stick around a little longer. Home in 2042 isn’t going anywhere, so I might as well get a few more adventures in before I go back.”

“We’ll have you back in time for dinner.” Sara declares, rounding them all up to head back to the ship.

---

Saying goodbye to Amaya is one of the hardest things Behrad has ever done, because he knows that he’s never going to see her again. She’s going to die-- in peace, thankfully-- decades before he’s even born , and knowing that makes it bearable. Most of them say their goodbyes in the docking bay, one by one, sharing fond words and warm hugs, while Nate heads into the jumpship to wait for her, so he can bring her home to Zambesi himself. Even Mick looks torn up by the idea of never seeing Amaya again, even though he’s doing his best not to show it.

When she gets to Behrad, she doesn’t even wait to say her goodbyes to wrap him in her arms. It’s a little difficult, because he’s so much taller than she is, but it’s no less bittersweet. 

“I’m so grateful that I met you.” She tells him, pressing his face into the crook of her neck with one hand. He doesn’t say anything, not trusting his voice to stay steady if he tries. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. And your family would be proud of you. These totems might have brought us together, but everything you’ve accomplished? That was all you.”

“I’m gonna miss you.” Is all he can say, eyes watering as he hugs her tighter. After a while, she finally lets him go, and he reluctantly steps back.

“One last thing,” She adds, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. “About Nathaniel. Take care of him for me, will you?”

“Of course.” He promises her, and she smiles sweetly. 

“Goodbye, Behrad.” She leans up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, moving on to say her goodbyes to Sara, and he takes his exit back into the Waverider’s corridors.

--- 

After coming back alone on the jumpship, Nate cries all the way to Aruba, and Ray holds him the whole time, while Behrad brings warm mugs of tea to keep him hydrated, and snacks, because it’s harder to cry when you’re eating good food. By the time they’re all settled into beach chairs with cocktails-- and non-alcoholic beverages for Behrad-- Nate seems to have recovered enough to enjoy himself, though Behrad knows it’ll be a while before Nate’s really over it.

“Nothing helps a broken heart like a good tan.” Nate laments, sipping at his pina colada. 

“Speaking of broken hearts, let’s talk about B making out with Jonah Hex .” Wally laughs, tossing a chunk of pineapple across Ray and Sara and Nate, hitting Behrad squarely in the nose.

“Am I ever going to live this down?”

“No way, bro.” Another chunk of pineapple hits Behrad, this time on the arm. “We should have stayed longer so you could get some.”

“I know,” He complains. “Not to sound like one of those guys, but it’s really been a while.”

“I’d fuck you, if you asked.” Wally offers, nonchalantly, and Behrad chokes on his orange juice.

“What?!”

“He said he’d fuck you, if you asked.” Mick repeats in a deadpan. As Behrad coughs, Sara and Nate both wolf-whistle in sync, and Ray dutifully reminds them to use protection.

“Huh.” Behrad sits up, lowering his sunnies to glance at Wally. Wally winks. “I might take you up on that.”

“You should have invited Ava.” Nate tells Sara, and she shrugs.

“Oh, we’ve got plans. And until then, she’s busy fixing all those pesky anachronisms we left behind.”

“Well that's the thing about defeating an ancient time demon.” Ray says. “Everything else seems boring.”

“I’m good with ‘boring.’” Wally sips noisily through his straw. Behrad hums his agreement, and suddenly someone approaches, partially-blocking the sun hitting his body.

“Hey, idiot, get out of here!” Mick growls from the next chair, shooing the figure away. “This is a private beach.”

Behrad squints up at the backlit figure, and raises a hand to block the invasive rays. The figure in question is Gary from the Time Bureau, dressed like John Constantine, if he were a costume sold at a halloween store. 

“Fancy meeting you lot out here.” Gary greets, in a poor approximation of a British accent. The wide grin on his face ruins any hope of a convincing imitation.

“Gary, what do you want?” Sara sighs, sitting up in her chair.

“He’s been with me, love.” The real Constantine says around a cigarette. He’s brought something large, bundled up in a sturdy-looking beige fabric, tucked under his arm, and promptly drops it onto the sandy beach beneath his feet. “I need a word with you sorry lot. Now, whose brilliant idea was it to let an ancient demon out of his bloody cage?”

Constantine rips the cloth away from the object, revealing the severed head of a dragon. It’s not Mithra. This dragon doesn’t have enough horns, and has more fin-like protrusions than the Mithra Behrad remembers from when he was a kid. But it looks enough like Mithra for Behrad to think, for one horrifying moment, that this is his sister’s scaly friend.

“Sara’s.” Nate answers, and Sara thwaps him on the arm. “ Ow !”

“Well you opened a door, love. And Mallus wasn't the only thing that got out.”

Staring down at the thing, and feeling anxiety rise in his gut, as nobody can quite seem to find words to respond with, Behrad wonders if this is a good time to mention his sister’s claim to fame.