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With the timeline (mostly) intact and Gwyn Davies returned to his home, the remaining Legends finally stepped aboard the Waverider. It was a little dusty from neglect, but it was undoubtedly theirs. Sara strode onto the bridge and embraced the centre console.
“Momma’s home,” she groaned. Ava pulled her back by the belt-loops.
“Momma’s taking a shower,” she said. “I do not trust the cleaning power of John’s bathroom.”
Sara shot the rest of the Legends a cheeky grin as she was dragged into the hallway.
“Oh, hell no,” grumbled Spooner, thrusting her duffle bag into Astra’s arms. “If those two think they get an hour of canoodling in there before I get to pee, they got another thing coming.”
She marched off after them, followed closely by Astra.
“Hey! I am not your coat rack!”
The rest looked on, amused.
“And so it begins,” Nate said fondly.
“It’s kinda beautiful, isn’t it?” said Gary.
“It’ll be even more beautiful when I can finally go full zen mode,” Behrad replied. “Boys’ Game Night?”
Nate pumped his fist. Gary beamed.
“Boys? Like, all the boys?”
They headed to the lab for their multi-screen set-up, leaving just Gideon and Zari on the bridge. Or, just Gideon. Zari had spotted her laptop in the lounge and was scrolling furiously to catch up on several weeks’ worth of online happenings.
Gideon looked over at the centre console. The stand-by lights glowed faintly. She was oddly tempted to crawl up and stand on its flat face, to reclaim her old spot. It was strange; Gideon had never seen the Waverider from this angle before. The underside of the console was lightly scuffed from the tender grip of a decade’s worth of engineers. The floor dipped just barely in a ring around it. She took a step forward and almost jumped as she felt her foot rattle. Of course, she had always known that the floor was fitted with metal grates, it had just never occurred to her that those grates would have a physical sensation.
The electronics on the bridge emitted a low hum, one which her audio optimisation software must have always filtered out. Gideon had also never considered that the Waverider would have a smell. Before, she could use magnetic filtration to study the composition of the ship’s air, to ensure there were no dangerous imbalances in its chemistry. But now the air had a new dimension. With her limited palate of smells for reference, she couldn’t work out what exactly the ship smelled like, only that it was pleasant.
She took another step forward, not so startled by the grate this time. Tentatively, she leaned her body on the console. It was warmer than she expected. She let her forearms press into the sturdy glass screen. She had always assumed that the Legends performed this action in order to get a good view at whatever holographic media Gideon was displaying, but she understood better now. It helped to relieve some of the weight of being human.
“Ugh, I missed like, eight new Cat Chat updates!” cried Zari, poking at her phone.
The sudden voice took Gideon by surprise, and her shifting weight rattled the vent grate.
“Oh, Gidget,” said Zari. “You’re still here.”
She pocketed her phone and skipped down the steps toward Gideon. Gideon watched Zari navigate so nimbly around the place in which Gideon had lived much longer.
“Home, sweet home,” said Zari. “I guess it’s a little weird for you, being down here rather than up there.”
Some archaic definitions of ‘weird’ pertain to fate, or destiny.
“You’re right, Miss Tarazi. It is weird.”
Gideon knew the trappings of polite conversation required her to provide a more open response, but her mind seemed to be working in circles. Zari tapped her chin thoughtfully.
“Well,” she said. “Why don’t we get you settled in? Let’s get out of these vintage rags.”
“Aren’t you concerned with your social media commitments?” Gideon asked. Zari rolled her eyes with a smile.
“I’d rather find you a pair of properly fitted pants than try out Cat Lab’s billionth new dog filter.”
It wasn’t true. With every new dog filter post, Miss Tarazi’s brand worth increased by 0.4%.
“You often lie to people,” said Gideon. “You misrepresent your own desires in order to comfort others.”
Zari laughed lightly, ever so slightly pink.
“Maybe I do,” said Zari. “Maybe I don’t. Comforting my friends comforts me.”
“My apologies,” said Gideon. “I am beginning to realise that certain levels of analysis are sometimes inappropriate.”
Zari laughed again. Gideon felt her face lift into a smile in response to the sound. She was also beginning to realise that emotions were catching, especially Zari’s.
“Luckily for you, Gidget, I love ‘inappropriate’.”
Zari hooked Gideon’s arm in hers and led them down the corridor toward Zari’s room.
“What can you tell me about the others?” she asked. Gideon filtered through her inexhaustible list of facts about the Legends.
“Co-captain Sharpe speaks approximately 8% faster during mission briefings when Captain Lance wears a sleeveless shirt.”
Zari looked delighted with the fact. Gideon grinned and continued.
“Mr Heywood enjoys being seen as a man of action. In reality, one of his greatest contributions to the team is as a peacekeeper.”
“Aw,” Zari cooed.
“Miss Logue is significantly more likely to accept a request if it is preceded by a compliment. On average, Miss Cruz compliments Miss Logue 60% more frequently than any other Legend.”
Zari stopped them outside her room with a scandalised look.
“I knew it!” she said. “Hold off on the goss for now, though. I need some time to digest all this.”
The bedroom door slid open. Zari’s room was neat but cosy. It smelled of what Gideon assumed to be perfume, something like flowers and warm spices. The softness of colour-coordinated blankets and pillows seemed to absorb the impact of Gideon's bouncing thoughts.
They rooted through Zari’s expansive wardrobe. Zari quickly found herself an outfit, something typically effortless but striking. They spent some time choosing items for Gideon. Among other things, she chose a pair of pants that reminded her of the neat, angular silhouettes of the early 20th century.
Gideon enjoyed watching Zari work. Up close, with human eyes, she could watch Zari’s quick mind work through her eyes. Gideon could catch the subtle lift of Zari’s eyebrows as she found a shirt that would apparently flatter Gideon’s collar. She watched her quick fingers fold the hem of some soft jeans to suit Gideon’s height. She watched Zari’s mouth whisper measurements into the air.
Zari draped a white shirt over Gideon’s shoulders and stepped back. For a moment, Gideon felt the warmth of Zari’s hands.
Zari surveyed the outfit. She squinted her eyes, tilting her head a few degrees to the left. Gideon mirrored her, keeping Zari’s face oriented upright as the room turned around them. Zari retrieved some pins from her bedside, then stepped back in front of Gideon to pin the shirt-sleeves and adjust the collar. She looked again, then broke into a smile and clapped her hands with glee.
Gideon felt her face heat up. Nobody had looked at her like that when she was a hologram.
“How about that, Gidget?” Zari asked, moving aside to let Gideon view herself in the wardrobe mirror. Gideon saw herself beaming. The clothes were nice enough, but Zari seemed positively giddy beside her.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
There was a knock at the door. It opened to reveal Nate standing in the corridor.
“Evening, ladies,” he said.
“Good evening, Mr Heywood.”
“Hey, Nate. What happened to Boys’ Game Night?” Zari asked.
“The guys fell asleep after round two. Gary’s the little spoon.”
“Mr Green has repeatedly referred to the position as ‘ideal for both comfort and protection’.” Gideon provided.
“I was wondering,” Nate began. “If you’d mind me going totem-side for the night?”
“It’s your home, Nate. You don’t have to ask. Just keep it down, okay?”
Zari pressed on her totem. Nate saluted them both goodbye as he disappeared in a rush of wind and red light. The bedroom door slid shut. Zari adjusted her bracelet with a sad smile. She missed John Constantine, Gideon realised. It was highly likely that Nate’s excitement to see his girlfriend had reminded Zari of her recent loss.
Sometimes, humans lied to each other. They would misrepresent their own desires in order to comfort their friends.
“Miss Tarazi,” said Gideon. “Do you have any hats? I thoroughly enjoyed the headwear of both the 1920s and 1940s.”
A few hours later, Gideon lay in Mick Rory’s old room. Zari had helped her empty it of stray beer bottles and change the bedsheets, but now she was alone. For the first time since Gideon had awoken in the field beside Astra and Spooner, she was alone. Being human was frustrating. She was simultaneously exhausted and unable to sleep. The room was dark. She could make out the vague shapes of furniture in the room, but little else. It reminded her of the times a connector on the Waverider’s security cameras would come loose, leaving the picture blurred, patchy. But here, she couldn’t simply switch to a different feed, another angle. Not yet reconnected to the ship’s interface, Gideon was limited to her human senses, altogether overwhelming and insufficient at once.
So often, Gideon struggled to filter through the countless sensory inputs. She would say the wrong thing or struggle to say anything at all. The Legends would have to cover for her, explain away her oddities.
But then, she thought of Zari’s warm hands on her shoulders.
Sometimes, Gideon would provide intel that made Sara cry out, “that’s it!” Gideon would match her encyclopaedic knowledge of history with their many predicaments and find them an escape route that had the Legends grinning and patting her back. She used her new human perception to read their enemy’s weakness. She sang. Machines can’t sing. There’s something about breath that makes music alive.
Her mind slowly filled with the echo of Zari whispering measurements for Gideon’s sleeves.
Being with Zari calmed Gideon’s mind. Gideon considered getting out of bed, making the short walk to Zari’s door and knocking. But no, that’s something a child would do. Gideon had analysed every film ever made, she knew that sleepless children sought comfort in the night. She also knew it was a trope of the romance genre. Two people, cast into adventure, would find each other in the darkness. One might withdraw from their own bed and approach the other. One would say, “couldn’t sleep?” And the other would nod solemnly. The two, inevitably, would end up curled around each other.
That would be nice, thought Gideon. The warm flower smell, the soft blankets, the quick expressiveness of Zari’s eyes.
The thoughts alone set her mind gently adrift.