#but damn maybe i just want sara to stop touching laurel's stuff for once)

[laurelwinchester]

i realize everyone has a right to their own fandom experience and their own harmless headcanons and i know this is just me being petty as hell but damn if i don’t die a little inside every time i see someone try to parallel dean winchester and s*ra l*nce.

[stillthewordgirl]

CaptainCanary fic: With Eyes Wide Open (ch. 3 of ?)

In a world where Rip Hunter never formed the Legends, Leonard Snart is trying to mend his ways and work with Team Flash, though sometimes it's easier than others. Meanwhile, Sara Lance is gradually dealing with the blood lust left behind by the Pit and trying to get used to being a hero again herself. When they encounter each other one day in Central City, it seems like a match that just might be meant to be.

*

Note: This is an accidental pregnancy fic, one in which both contributors to said pregnancy decide to continue their relationship and do their best with it. If you don't like such things, be warned.

*

Ch. 3: OK. Now...the stuff pertinent to the overall plot starts hitting us.

Early pregnancy. Angst. Stress. Talk of options. You've been warned. Remember, however, that it IS me. ;) And there will be some resolution at the end of this chapter.

Many thanks to Pir8grl!

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

*

About five weeks later

It starts with the coffee.

Sara just doesn’t want any one morning. That’s a bit unusual, but she’d slept well the night before, and she’s not so caffeine-addicted that she’ll get a headache by skipping a day. So, she does. Then another.

And another.

And then it seems there’s always something going on, and she just doesn’t start that particular morning tradition again. It’s not so drastic that Leonard notices, either—although Sara winds up spending so much of her time with him in Central City than they might as well be officially living together, neither of them is one for lazy mornings.

At least, not unless those lazy mornings are spent in bed. And not sleeping.

After an uncertain amount of time, she notices that on those mornings Leonard does make coffee—he has a single-cup maker—it just plain smells…off. Foul. Stomach-turning. She mentions it once and he gives it a sniff, shrugging and dumping it out and muttering something about cleaning the coffee maker. And Sara forgets again.

Then Sara sets foot in CC Jitters one morning on her way over to STAR Labs, and she nearly has to clap her hand over her mouth and run back out as the mingled strong scents of coffee, breakfast foods, and other things turn her stomach. But she’d promised Iris and Caitlin coffee this morning, and damn it, she’ll keep that promise.

“When the hell did Jitters change their house coffee blend?” she asks irritably as she walks into the Cortex, juggling the drink holder. “This one stinks to high heaven. Just…eww. I wanted to gag. Actually, I did.”

Caitlin gives her a surprised look, taking one of the cardboard travel cups. “I don’t think they have? I was there just yesterday with Harry and it seemed exactly the same.” She removes the top of the cup and takes a careful sip as Sara and Iris exchange amused glances over their friend’s gradually ever-increasingly “Harry” references. “Hm. Tastes the same too. How odd.”

Iris shrugs, giving her own cup a sniff. “Seems fine to me. Smells like coffee.” She lifts an eyebrow as Sara takes her own cup. “So you didn’t get any?”

“Yuck. No. Got a smoothie instead. The idea of drinking that…crap…upsets my stomach.” Sara turns away, taking a healthy slug of her drink as her friends exchange a glance. “I haven’t really wanted breakfast lately, but this sounded good.”

Then something about the quality of the silence captures her attention and she glances back at them. “What?”

Iris tends to be the blunter of the two, but she seems to be at a loss for words, and it’s the doctor, of course, who speaks up.

“Sara,” Caitlin says carefully, putting her coffee down and folding her hands on the desk. “Uh. I don’t know how to ask this any more tactfully, but…are you…you know...late?”

Sara frowns at her, taking another drink. “Excuse me?”

Caitlin turns a little pinker. “You know…your, ah, cycle? Because that sounds a little…”

She’s saved from explaining any more of the birds and the bees as Sara nearly sprays out a mouthful of strawberry smoothie. “What?!”

They’ve got to be kidding. Really. She has to be imagining this.

Iris has found her voice, though. “She’s asking if Snart knocked you up,” she says a touch acerbically, but there’s concern in her eyes. “Because that does sound suspicious.”

Sara chokes again, dabbing at a runaway dribble smoothie on her sweatshirt. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! We’ve been careful. Precautions have been taken. Cait…”

“Answer the question, Sara.” Caitlin’s voice is implacable now. Her doctor voice, used when dealing with a recalcitrant patient. “Is your period late? Tell me it’s not, and I’ll leave you be.”

Sara huffs at her, then thinks a moment. And as she’s silent, her eyes widen just a little, and she shakes her head back and forth slowly, as if denying the words she’s about to say.

“Yes…” she says slowly. “About…maybe a couple weeks?” Then she makes a visible effort to shrug off the worry. “But…Caitlin, things haven’t been…normal…that way, not since the Pit. It’s not unusual.  At all. It’s not…not that.”

At this point, Team Flash—and Leonard, as far as it goes—knows about the Pit. Caitlin bites her lip, but she also perseveres.

“Still. You don’t…can’t….know that. Please, Sara.”

Sara throws her hands in the air. “What is it you want me to do?”

That, it seems, Caitlin can deal with. She nods, implacable again. “Take a pregnancy test. Just…if it’s negative, we’ll let it go.”

She darts a look at Iris, who shrugs. “I have a couple unopened ones downstairs,” she adds, then rolls her eyes at Sara’s expression. “What? Barry and I…well, we’ve kind of started trying, and we’re here more than we’re at home, it sometimes seems.”

For a moment, it seems like Sara might fight that, too. But then she shrugs as well. “OK. Why not? Small price to pay for getting you off my back.”

It’s silent in the Cortex as Iris departs. Sara can’t quite bring herself to look at Caitlin, who seems to understand, puttering around checking computers and such and leaving her friend to her thoughts.

She hadn’t lied. They had taken precautions, although Sara hadn’t bothered with more than snagging a condom whenever necessary. (They’d stashed them all around the apartment.) Maybe they’re not the best of means, but…given that her cycle has been so erratic or nonexistent since the Pit and it seemed so unlikely that one who’d been honest-to-god dead could create life…well, she hadn’t worried much.

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

Iris is back all too soon, handing Sara a drugstore bag and beating a hasty retreat to Caitlin’s side. Sara takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and heads to the restroom. The sooner this is done, the better.

But it isn’t. It really, really isn’t.

“It’s positive,” she says numbly a few minutes later, staring down at that unobtrusive little stick, having stumbled out of the bathroom only moments before. “That can’t be…”

She looks up, taking in Caitlin and Iris, who are both staring at the test too. “It has to be false. Right? That happens?”

But Caitlin clears her throat and reaches out, gently testing the test from her. “False negatives aren’t uncommon this early,” she says quietly. “False positives…that’s not likely.”

“But…I mean, it’s not like we just ignored it. We were careful. And…” Sara lets her voice trails off as she stares at her friends.

This is real, she thinks suddenly. And she’s just starting to put her life back together, just gotten to a point where she’s truly glad to be alive again, and…

Sara takes a step back. Then another.

“I can’t do it,” she says, hearing a note of hysteria in her voice as Caitlin and Iris watch her. “I just can’t. I’m still dealing with…with everything from the Pit, and…” She scrubs a hand over her face, trying to remember what they know, what she’s left out of the story.

“I was an assassin,” she says, words dropping into the silence of the Cortex like stones. “I killed people. A lot of people. I can’t be a mom. That’s just…that’s not right.”

Caitlin, bless her, steps forward after only a moment. Trying to help, because that’s what she does.

“Well,” she says carefully, taking another step and putting a hand on Sara’s shoulder. “You have options. This is early. You know we’ll help, with whatever you want to do.”

Sara drags in another deep breath, but then Iris, always the speaker of the things people don’t want to hear—it must be the journalist in her—joins them.

“Are you going to tell Snart?” she asks gently.

Sara blinks at her. She’s barely begun to digest this herself, let alone think about what it might mean to her lover. “What? No!”

Iris takes a deep breath. “You certainly don’t have to,” she allows. “But if…if you care about him at all, you might want to.” She pauses. “He might surprise you.”

It’s too much. Too soon. All at once.

Sara shakes her head violently. “I can’t believe he’d want…not after his childhood…” She pictures the look on Leonard’s face, the shock, the realization…

And then it all coalesces. She really thinks she does love Leonard, but after all they’ve been through, there’s only one person she really wants to see right now.

“I need to go back to Star,” she says abruptly, turning away. “I need to see Laurel.”

Iris circles her, stopping in front of her on her way out the door. “But…Sara, what about Snart?” She sighs. “OK, I’m maybe not his greatest fan, but…you care about him. You’ve really seemed happy with him.” She bites her lip. “I mean…maybe don’t just vanish on him?”

She’s right, but… Sara shakes her head. “I can’t talk to him yet. I just…I just can’t…” she says helplessly. “Iris…tell him there was an emergency? And that…that I’ll be back. Probably. I just…I need to…think…”

Her friend pauses, then takes a deep breath, reaching out and giving her arms a quick squeeze.

“OK,” she says quietly. “OK. Sara, do what you need to. We’ll get word to him.” She glances over her shoulder at Caitlin. “Just…let us know if you need us.”

That’s all Sara can manage to agree to before she runs out of the room.

*

The drive to Star City seems to take a lot less time than it actually does. Sara finds herself simply staring ahead as she drives the motorcycle, keeping her mind empty, trying not to think about…well, anything, really.

It’s a Saturday, which means Laurel is at home, and thank god, she’s alone. There’s no way Sara could deal with Ollie, or her father, or even Felicity at this point. She hammers at the door, nearly falling in when Laurel opens it, wrapping her arms around herself as she stumbles in and crosses the familiar apartment, Laurel closing the door behind her, voice rising in question.

The couch is soft, comfort more than show—that didn’t use to be Laurel’s style, but it is now. Sara subsides onto it, glad to be stationary. Surely, things should feel even more…different?

“Sara,” her sister says sharply, turning, crossing toward her. “What’s wrong?”

Ugh.

Sara takes a deep breath, then lets it out. She looks up toward Laurel’s worried face, then squeezes her eyes shut. Then opens them, and rips off the bandage, as it were.

“Laurel. I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Then her sister blinks, taking in her own breath.

And another.

And then she sits down, wrapping an arm around Sara’s shoulders, holding her tight.

“The crook?” she asks carefully, not looking at her sister just yet.

Leonard doesn’t deserve that tone, and Sara bristles, just a little. “Leonard,” she says, a little sharply. “Former crook. And…yes.” The tears rise, even though she’s not quite sure why. “I just…I don’t know what to do…”

Laurel holds her tighter. “OK,” she says. “OK. Take a deep breath.” A pause. “Now another. And tell me. When you’re ready.”

That’s really the best thing her sister could possibly say. Sara obeys, for once in her life, dragging in a few deep breaths before glancing over at Laurel’s profile.

“I didn’t think I could...after the Pit,” she says. “I mean...I...it took months for some physical things to get back to approaching normal.”

Laurel nods, after a moment. “That makes sense,” she says. “But…they did? More or less?”

Sara glances away, then back. “Yeah. More or less. And it’s not like…we didn’t take precautions.” She snorts, humor rising despite herself. “Yay for condom value packs.”

Laurel gives her a stern look, through there’s also humor lingering at the corners of it. “Hey! TMI.” She rubs a hand over Sara’s shoulders. “They’re not 100 percent, you know,” she says carefully. “Nothing is.”

“Yeah. Apparently.” Sara sighs, allowing herself to lean against her sister. “But…I never thought…”

They’re both silent a long moment. Sara decides she’ll always owe Laurel for not pointing out how very foolish that “never thinking” was.

“Well,” Laurel says finally. “You’re…ah, not very far along.” She studies Sara’s face. “Do you…want to end it? You can. It’s pretty early. I’ll back you up, no matter what.”

Sara stares down at her hands. On some levels, she thinks, it’s the obvious choice. But…

“I know. But…I always wanted kids,” she says in a low tone. “I mean…once. What if this is my only chance? I mean…I wasn’t kidding when I said things are…very erratic. Still.”

Laurel thinks that over.

“I don’t know,” she says finally, squeezing Sara’s shoulders again. “I can’t answer that. I don’t know how the Pit...affects things. It’s not like there are studies out there on it.”

Sara’s still silent. Laurel takes another deep breath, then takes Sara’s shoulders in her hands, studying her face seriously.

“All right, then,” she says. “What if you do keep going with the pregnancy? What happens then?”

Sara stares at her. She hadn’t really expected that to be held up as an option, even though, somehow, in her heart, she couldn’t help thinking of it as one. Despite everything. Because…even despite everything…this might be her only chance. And, honestly, the idea of Leonard’s child…it’s not…totally unappealing.

But how would he feel about that?

So, she doesn’t say anything. But Laurel, perceptive, nods.

“Snart,” she says quietly. “Will he be a problem? Will he want to...to be involved?”

Sara’s not sure if she’s thinking Leonard will be a problem if he wants to be involved, or if he doesn’t. And she’s not up for arguing about it.

“He had a pretty messed-up childhood,” she admits. “I don’t know. But...I also know he pretty much raised his sister.” She takes a deep breath. “We’ve talked. A lot. I know…he’s trying to be the man his father wasn’t. Maybe...maybe he’d think of this as a second chance too.”

Huh. That’s the first time she’s truly articulated it like that…that she’s thinking of this as a second chance. Sara blinks, considering, but Laurel doesn’t seem fazed, simply squeezing her shoulders again.

“Do you want Snart to have any bearing on your decision?” she asks carefully. “You don’t have to. But I think you care for him, and...”

“And he is the father,” Sara says. “Yeah. I don’t…I don’t know.” She bites her lip, something occurring to her. “Oh, god, Dad’s going to want to kill him.”

That actually gets a gurgle of laughter out of Laurel. “Well, we won’t let him. It takes two and all that,” she says, studying Sara. “I mean…you love him, don’t you? Snart.”

It’s not really a question. And Sara has to nod.

“I do,” she says quietly. “I know it hasn’t been that long…but, yeah.” She sighs. “We’re so…the same. So…both trying to find our ways to something better. I think this is real. But…” She gives Laurel a helpless look. “I wasn’t planning on this. We weren’t planning on this.”

Laurel gives her a sympathetic smile.

“Well,” she says carefully. “You wanted a new challenge. This could be a pretty big one.”

Since Sara’s secretly been thinking about that, she can’t really complain. But she also can’t help feeling a bit guilty about it.

“It’s really not fair to the...the kid, though,” she says, looking down at her hands…and her still-flat stomach. “To make him or her an experiment for two damaged people trying to unfuck their shit.” She glances at Laurel. “And...who am I if I’m not a vigilante? I can’t really go out kicking ass when I’m pregnant. Can I? I don’t even know.”

Laurel gives her a sympathetic look. “Well. Who am I if I’m not Black Canary?” She puts a hand on her cane, which she’s used ever since her run-in with Damien Darhk. “I think I’m doing OK.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” Laurel pats her arm. “You’d have to figure that out. But, Sara…if you want to try…I’m here for you.”

Sara feels her eyes well up again. “And if I don’t continue the…the pregnancy?”

Laurel leans over and hugs her. “Then I’ll be with you then, too.”

*

Sara’s not there when Leonard gets back to the apartment that day, but he doesn’t think that much of it.

It’s not like they’re in each other’s pockets. He’s spent the day out doing some check-ins with more criminal contacts, and he knows that she’d been planning on spending some time at STAR Labs, training Snow and Iris in some basic self-defense and, in all likelihood, gossiping happily. He has no idea when she’ll get back, but it’s fine whenever she does, and it’s not something he’s even remotely worried about.

Until there’s a knock at the door

*

Iris takes a deep breath, shifting from foot to foot in the sort of nervous motion that isn’t really her. Snart’s actual living space isn’t a secret anymore—it’s more or less Sara’s apartment too—but it still seems odd to be here. He’s always seemed a, well, denizen of penthouses or safe houses, nothing in between, certainly not this ordinary apartment in a nice, but not fancy, building in center city.

It’s just so not…supervillain. Not that Snart’s really playing the villain at all anymore.

There’s a long pause before he answers the door, during which she’s pretty sure he’s considering her through the door’s peephole. And when the door finally starts to swing open, Iris takes a deep breath, organizing the words she needs to say.

She said she’d do anything to help Sara, and she’d meant it. She’d really prefer, though, not to be doing this.

Snart’s eyes are already narrowed as he regards her. “Is Sara OK?” he asks immediately, eyes fixed on hers. Worried? Maybe?

“Can I come in?” Iris responds quickly.

Those blue eyes widen, and he steps backward, a clear invitation that Iris swiftly takes as he pushes the door shut behind her. Iris sucks in a breath, glancing around quickly, then focuses on him again. She’s never seen Snart in short sleeves, but he is now, safe in the confines of his home…a gray T-shirt and jeans, showing scars on his forearms she’s never seen bared before. They don’t surprise her, but Iris jerks her gaze away immediately. She thinks he probably already feels exposed enough.

“What’s going on?” Snart asks, voice low and intense, and Iris can see his hands clench and loosen.

Iris takes another deep breath. “Sara,” she says quietly. “She wanted me to tell you. She had to go back to Star. Suddenly. An emergency.”

Snart’s eyes flicker. He glances to the side. Iris follows his gaze, realizing that his phone’s sitting on the table there. He’s obviously wondering why Sara hadn’t just called or texted him.

“Is everything OK?” he asks intently. “Her sister? Her father? I’ll go...”

Ah, hell. Iris shakes her head quickly, though she thinks the better of him for immediately saying that.

“No,” she tells him. “No, don’t do that. Just…let her…”

What can she say? Not much. And it’s obvious that Leonard realizes that. He stares at her, very clearly registering that Sara doesn’t want him to follow her, and that she didn’t want to talk to him herself. Iris stares back helplessly, feeling pretty rotten about this.

“I didn’t...,” Snart says, as if to himself, glancing away. “Things were fine...” Then he looks back at Iris as if considering something. “Ah. Her ex.”

Does he think Sara’s gone back to Nyssa? “No,” Iris tells him. “No, it’s not that. Just…” She sighs. “Just wait for her, OK? Please?”

Snart stares at her another moment. Then: “That supposes that she’s coming back,” he says quietly. “Is she?”

And Iris can’t bring herself to prevaricate. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I think so.”

He turns aside, then, staring into the apartment, but not like he’s not really seeing it. Iris wants to leave, but…

Her heart, so unexpectedly, is hurting for him. Maybe it’s because this is a far more vulnerable Leonard Snart than she’s ever seen before. Maybe because the tiny touches that say “Sara” are all over the apartment now if you know where to look. It’s a home, not just a place to stay, and they shared it. Seems like that’s something he’s probably never really had before.

And now Sara’s gone, and she can’t even tell him why, or even if she’s definitely coming back.

Snart doesn’t look back at her. But Iris can hear the strain in his voice when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry, Iris,” he says, nearly inaudibly. “But…please go.”

And what else can she do?

She goes.

*

Leonard decides that he’s not going to think about it. That goes against the grain, really, but he just…can’t.

For a few days, at least, he’s not going to think about how stupid he might have been, letting someone in, letting someone have the power to hurt him. Mick had had that power...and used it, by leaving, by lashing out before he’d left, angered and disgusted by Leonard’s need to change. And Lisa...she has it too, and he’s still not sure what’s going on there.

Sara had been the first new person he’d let into…into his heart…in a long, long time.

And she’s gone. Maybe not returning.

No. No, he just can’t think about that. Not yet.

Then, three days later, he comes home from a ramble around the city and a stop at the gym...and Sara is sitting there, curled up in a corner of the couch, watching him.

Leonard lets his bag fall to the floor with a thud. He takes a step toward her, then another, torn between relief, and fear, and maybe even a little anger that he won’t acknowledge—anger and hurt that she hadn’t felt like she could tell him what was going on with her.

But mostly, there’s relief.

“Are you OK?” he asks, staring at her. “Sara, are you all right?”

She gives him a weary smile and a shrug but doesn’t move from her spot on the couch, arms still wrapped around her legs, folded in on herself. Leonard's worry starts to rise again.

“Yes?” Sara says then, as if unsure. “Maybe? I...” She takes a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

Leonard lets the statement hang in the air for a moment, then lets out a humorless laugh. “Nothing good ever started with those words,” he mutters, but he walks over and takes a seat anyway, at the other end of the couch, giving her some space as he studies her.

She looks...tired. Tired and pale and drawn. Sick? Is she...

“I’m pregnant.”

The words fall into the silence like stones. Leonard stares at her, speechless for once in his life, trying to make them make sense.

Sara’s mouth twists. She glances away from him, shoulders hunching a little more.

“It’s yours,” she continues. “If you’re wondering. There hasn’t been anyone else in a long time.” She shrugs, still not looking at him. “I know we...ah, took precautions, but they apparently didn’t work. Somewhere along the line.”

Still, silence. Leonard knows he needs to say something, but he has no idea, no plans for this at all, no...

"What do you want to do?” he says finally, wondering if he should move toward her—or if he’s done rather enough at this point, thank you.

Sara’s eyes flicker back to his, gaze holding on, and there’s a measure of relief there, he thinks. Had she thought he’d flip out or something? Or unilaterally demand...what?

He couldn’t do either even if he wanted to. He can barely breathe.

Sara shrugs again. She relaxes her guarded posture just a little, watching him. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I keep...see-sawing.” She takes a deep breath. “And I decided I at least wanted to hear what you...how you felt...before I made any final decisions.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but he says it anyway. “How I feel? About...?”

Sara rolls her eyes at him, looking a little more like herself. “The pregnancy, jerk. I mean...about...well...um, parenthood. With...me.”

Leonard stares at her. Once again, trying to line up the words to make sense.

She’s asking him?

*

Oh. Oh, maybe that was a mistake.

Sara bites her lip as Leonard’s eyes widen, stunned surprise clear in them. I broke him, she thinks, a bit hysterically. All he’s been through, and I finally broke him.

Of course, he doesn’t want to be involved. Not after Lewis, not after his own childhood. She’s being foolish, thinking about second chances and challenges. They’re a crook and an assassin, not anyone who should ever be…

But then her lover says, in a voice so low that she can barely hear it, “You’d...trust me with that?”

There’s something fragile in the words. Nothing quite like she’s ever heard out of Leonard before. Disbelief and...and wonder...and...

Oh, Sara thinks again.

Oh, she’d started to misinterpret that badly.

A laugh leaves her lips as more of a sob, and she shakes her head. “Leonard,” she tells him, “I think you want so badly not to be your father that I trust you more with parenthood than I trust myself.”

Leonard gives her a sidelong look—the one that says he’s thinking something he’s not going to say just yet.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he does say, quietly. And then, after another moment, he gets to his feet.

“I...I know you just got back,” he tells her, voice a little rough. “And I’m glad. I’m glad you came back. But I need...I’m gonna go for a walk. Get some air. Think about things. Won’t be too long.” A hesitation. “Will you stay here?”

He’s worried she’ll leave again. Sara fights back a rush of guilt and nods.

“Sure,” she says, settling back, relieved and almost contented to be back in this place that’s becoming home. And hoping it remains that way. “I’m not going anywhere.”

*

The air’s just a little chilly. Leonard hunches his shoulders in his jacket as he walks into the wind, but in truth he doesn’t mind it. His head’s spinning so much that the cold breeze feels good, like a blast of ice water, keeping him in the here and now.

He doesn’t have a set path in mind, just lets his feet pick while his mind is still awhirl.

A kid.

When he’d decided to turn over a new leaf, faced with the boredom in his old life and the feeling that he was just becoming another version of Lewis—albeit one that was much more competent—he hadn’t really had much of a plan. Just a frustrated sense of wrongness with the status quo and a need for something—anything—different.

And it was good. (For the most part. The regret and anger over Mick and his refusal to understand...it was still there.)

And then there was Sara.

And that was even better. And now...

A kid. Well, not yet. Just a few cells, right now. But him and Sara. Together.

It’s...unbelievable.

Oh, he gets the mechanics well enough. But a kid.

Maybe, a long, long time ago, a much younger Leonard Snart had thought a family of his own, in one way or another, was something the future might hold for him. Maybe he’d sworn that he’d be a much better father than his ever was.

But he’d gotten older. Gotten harder. He’d done a lot of bad things, and he no longer thought about really changing his fate. He just wanted to be remembered as better than Lewis Snart.

It was only recently that he’d started thinking, again, that maybe there was more than one way to be better.

“A kid,” he says out loud, slowing, saying the words to the Central City skyline. He’s just about at the waterfront, and it’s twilight, and his city is sparkling around him. Full of potential.

Leonard ambles over to the railing and leans on it, studying the view.

And then, quieter, he tries other words on for size. “A dad.”

It scares the crap out of him.

*

Leonard’s gone about an hour. Sara makes herself a cup of weak tea (the smell doesn’t turn her stomach like coffee does, and surely this little bit of caffeine can’t hurt) and settles back on the couch, reminding herself to breathe.

She’s come to a realization, herself, about what she thinks she wants. She’d decided when Leonard had looked at her with that expression in his eyes. But…that part, that’s not just up to her.

She jumps when she finally hears the door, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart, and looks over as Leonard lets himself in. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it on a chair, then saunters over, taking a seat himself and finally looking at her again.

Sara can’t read his expression. She licks her lips nervously, wondering, preparing herself to leave, to figure out what’s next, by herself.

But then…then. He moves a little closer, reaching out to take her hands in what is, for Leonard, the height of romantic gestures. And he meets her eyes again, his own…resolute.

“OK,” he says, watching her intently. “What it comes down to…you’re the one who’ll have to deal with all the…work, now. So, I’ll back you up, whatever you want to do. Whatever.”

Sara blinks, registering that, but Leonard’s not done.

“And if that means...having the kid, I’m in,” he says, a thread of something almost nervous in his tone. “I mean, if you want me to be.” He studies Sara’s face, looking uncertain. “I get it if you want to…to run for the hills and not have it have anything to do with me. But I hope you don’t.”

Sara opens her mouth. Closes it, trying to parse out that declaration.

Leonard glances away, then back. “I don’t know how much good I’ll be to you or...it...him...her...but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave you to do this alone,” he mutters. “I figure two people muddling through, if they’re trying their best…gotta be better than one.”

A tiny smile actually tugs at the edge of his mouth as he glances at her. “And I figure you’ll kick my ass if I screw up too much. Might need that.”

That’s just so…Leonard…that Sara lets out another sound that just might be a chuckle. She’s not even sure herself.

She’s not sure of anything other than the sense of…relief, she thinks it’s relief…spreading through her.

Sara lowers her head, blinking furiously, wondering if this is the first sign of the rampant emotions she’s read might mark the early stages of pregnancy. Leonard shifts a little closer, and Sara looks up at him again, registering the concern on his face.

“Sara?” he asks carefully. “What…”

Sara launches herself at him, more or less. She buries her face in his shoulder, feeling his arms going around her, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. And this time, they spill over, and she thinks briefly that if she didn’t look a fright before, she certainly will now. But that’s OK.

It’s OK.

“I think I’m going to. Have the kid, I mean,” she whispers into his already sodden shirt. “I hope it’s not a mistake. But…I think it’s something I need to do. And hell yes, I want you with me. Please.”

One of Leonard’s hands goes up to stroke her hair. For a long moment, they both just sit there, taking it in, both with worries and fears, both with baggage and doubts.

But together.

Finally, Sara feels him move, just a little, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair and taking a deep breath, arms tightening around her again.

“Then,” he says, quietly, “I guess we’re gonna be parents.”

[rorykillmore]

okay so i’ve also been working on ANOTHER thing that, thus far, has taken a backseat to my christmas fics, but i think now i’m as happy with it as i’m gonna be so. idk. this is basically just the result of me being salty about arrow (constant fandom mood) and black siren and the total lack of lance sister interaction.

special shoutout to @larkspear bc their character thoughts and the discussions we’ve had helped. we have a lot of fun rp stuff for these two planned but i wanted to do, like, a canon set fix-it thing for them too because my spite is JUST that real.

so this is set idk sometime after the crossover, in an au where sara stayed in star city for awhile and team arrow has black siren under lock and key again and thus gets Busted

“They aren’t going to let me out of here.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on asking Oliver for permission.”

“You didn’t tell me.” 

Sara doesn’t usually yell when she’s angry. A cold shoulder’s a more effective approach, she usually finds -- or at least easier for her, easier to shut down what she’s feeling and keep it safely out of other people’s reach.

“None of you fucking told me.” But now? Now she’s practically seething.

“Sweetheart --” Her father begins, and he sounds tired, but Sara is bristling too much to care and he gets cut off anyway as Oliver (predictably) steps forward to take the heat. 

“I asked him not to, Sara.” He barely flinches when she turns a fierce gaze on him. “Because I knew you would come here and do this, and from what I understand, your... team has enough to deal with right now. Don’t get distracted.”

“We were gonna tell you. I swear to god, I would never have kept this from you forever,” Quentin manages to get that in before Sara can decide on the best way to kill Oliver with her bare hands. “But better for you to know once we had the situation handled. I didn’t want you to see her like this.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder, and Sara just barely refrains from shrugging him off.  Laurel - her Laurel, anyway - hadn’t given up on her when she’d been some damaged killer fresh out of the League of Assassins, or when she’d been without a soul, so whatever this is? Sara thinks she can handle it.

“Look, Sara -- you haven’t met her. You don’t get it,”  Felicity tries almost plaintively. “She’s -- she’s not Laurel. Not really. Not like we knew her.”

She feels her father’s hand tense, but he doesn’t say anything. For her own part, she doesn’t quite manage his level of restraint. “Do you even know this Laurel at all?” Sara flashes an angry look from Felicity to Oliver.  “Either of you -- did you even try? Because I don’t remember you being all that good at listening to our Laurel when she was alive.”

Felicity looks hurt, and even Oliver grimaces this time, but Sara can’t bring herself to care. She’s too angry about them keeping this from her -- and maybe, maybe it isn’t fair, but maybe a part of them hasn’t forgiven them for that year she was dead. The one when Laurel grieved and suffered alone. Mostly, she knows, if it hadn’t been for Nyssa.

“She’s dangerous,” Oliver presses on. “If you let this cloud your judgment and give her the benefit of the doubt, she will take advantage of you. Believe me.”

He seems to think he’s speaking from experience, but Sara can’t say she has much faith that he handled any attempt he might have made at reaching out to the other Laurel particularly well.

Besides that --

There’s no universe out there where Laurel is a condemnable, irredeemable person. Sara knows - knew - who she was at the very core of her person, and it just isn’t possible.

She turns to Quentin, not quite able to lash out at him with that same anger once she sees the pained look in his eyes. He’s lost enough already. She won’t let it happen again.  “Where is she?”

She feels more than sees everyone in the room hesitate.

“We’ve got her in a cell that dampens her powers,” Quentin admits finally.  “She’s a metahuman, this version of her. But we -- it’s temporary. We can’t keep her here forever.”

“STAR labs can take her again.” Felicity clears her throat unhappily. “At least until we --”

“I want to see her,” Sara interrupts, because she’ll stop trusting herself if she lets Felicity finish that thought. 

“Sara --”

“Now.”

They know well enough to leave her to it, though Oliver looks less than happy about it. His problem. Sara forgets about it almost as soon as she enters the room with the cell, because there’s -- there’s Laurel.

She wears her hair different, swept to one side in a way that her Laurel would’ve fussed with, and there’s a look in her eyes that’s grim and haunted in a way that feels unfamiliar, but it’s still --

Laurel looks up, meets Sara’s gaze, and goes utterly still. Something in the way she pales a little, or how her expression falters just for a moment, reminds Sara of someone finding themselves face to face with a ghost.

All things considered, she can’t imagine her own expression is much different.

“Well,” Laurel drawls, a second too belated to be entirely convincing. “I see they’ve brought in the cavalry.”

Sara’s not sure if she’s aware, because most people probably wouldn’t be able to tell just from the little shifts in her expression , but she looks utterly miserable. She wonders if Laurel thinks they sent her in here just to torment her.

She steels herself and approaches the cage. 

“I’m sorry,” she starts quietly, not sure what else to say. “They didn’t... tell me about you. Or I would’ve been here sooner.”

“Would you?” Laurel tries to sound disinterested, but her gaze never leaves Sara. “I’ve heard you have very important things to do, these days.”

Nothing in any universe is more important to her than her sister, but Sara doesn’t say that. Instead, she tries for something lighter. “I mean, you know. There’s some kind of all-powerful demonic bullshit threatening the universe, at the moment, but it can wait.”

Laurel looks faintly surprised, and then almost for a moment like she wants to smile, but then she catches herself.  “Well, whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it here. I’ve already heard all the pep talks.”

“Good thing I suck at those, then.” Beneath her easy banter, Sara feels strangely hollowed out.  She tries not to let it show, but if she’s not having a hard time reading Laurel, she doesn’t imagine Laurel’s having a hard time reading her. Then again, it’s hard to say for sure. Maybe her relationship with her sister was... completely different. All Sara really knows about that is that her family’s dead now (Quentin had been kind enough to give her that heads up).

“So what do you want?” Laurel’s voice is starting to sound a little strained. “Did they send you in here to get something out of me, or are you just here to torture yourself?”

Sara hesitates, because there’s no denying that this does hurt, in a way she can’t really articulate. But it wouldn’t be fair to assume that it doesn’t hurt Laurel just as much, if not more -- does she even have anything left?  “...Do you want me to go?”

Laurel opens her mouth to say something, then swallows in a way that looks almost painful. No response comes after that.

“I mean -- I’m not gonna just leave you here,” Sara clarifies, in case that’s what she’s deliberating over.  “I’ll just -- I’ll talk to Dad, or --”  The rest of her words catch in her throat as she realizes what she’s said. There’s a choked pause, but Laurel doesn’t seem to want to linger on it.

“They aren’t going to let me out of here.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on asking Oliver for permission.” Sara tilts her head, a touch defiant in spite of everything. Laurel blinks at her, hesitating like someone who suspects they’re being baited into a trap.

“But why would you --”  Laurel seems to struggle with this sentiment, and Sara’s heart aches for her. “I’m --”

“You’re Laurel.”  And she is, unquestionably. Sara can’t understand how anyone would doubt it.  

Her sister - not the Laurel she knew, who was irreplaceable in every way that it’s possible to be, but still her sister - grips the bars of the cage a little too tightly, her eyes a little brighter, a little more teary.  “I’m not -- who you want me to be,” she says, like it’s a question Sara’s asked, and she sounds  just a little broken. “I’m not good, like she was. You’re just going to be disappointed.”

The sentiment only makes her seem more achingly familiar. Because the thing not many people knew about the Laurel of this Earth - the worst thing - was that she never thought she was worth very much, either. Sara can still remember that Laurel standing in Thea’s club with those same tears in her eyes and begging Sara not to hate her.

As if Sara ever could.

She reaches out, pries one of Laurel’s hands away from the bars, and holds it carefully. “Speaking as the resident family disappointment of this Earth, you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Laurel makes a choked noise that’s almost a laugh, and holds onto her a little more tightly than Sara would’ve expected her to. It makes her even more conscious of the reality of the situation:  Laurel without a family, Laurel, who’s been apparently flitting from dangerous situation to dangerous situation, who’s been locked away by the city’s heroes.

“Tell me how I can help you,” she asks more quietly.  If she has to go stab whatever big-name asshole’s been terrorizing the city this year a couple of times, she will, Oliver’s no-killing rule be damned.

A little guarded still, Laurel shrugs.  “Just get me out of here. I’ll -- leave Star City. Go somewhere else. Leave your friends alone.”

The pragmatic part of Sara wonders whether she should question whether Laurel’s telling the truth, but she suddenly sounds so exhausted that it’s difficult to doubt her.

“What about... whoever it is you’re working for?”

“I can lay low when I need to.”

Even if she can, Sara doesn’t like the idea of her spending God-knows-how-long running.  “If you want to go back to your Earth, I have some pull in Central City --”

Laurel shakes her head with a bitter, unamused smile. “It’d be worse there.”

Sara wants to ask, even though she’s certain she wouldn’t like the answer, but she figures her questions can wait until Laurel’s not sitting in a cell. Maybe Laurel senses her hesitation, because she finally, almost painfully, drops Sara’s hand.

“I’ll be fine, Sara. You’re overthinking it.”

It’s difficult to be deterred by that when it seems like not many people have given much thought to Laurel’s safety at all. She shrugs. “You could come with me.”

It’s a simple solution on the surface, because she doubts Laurel’s ‘friends’ have the means to track a timeship. But proposing it without thinking it over seems a little reckless, in retrospect.

Laurel stares at her for a moment. “What?”

“It’d still be dangerous,” Sara amends quickly, her mind racing. “I mean, the Legends aren’t exactly good at... staying out of trouble. And, you know. There’s the aforementioned demonic bullshit.”

And Damien Darhk. Sara’s blood runs cold at the idea of letting this Laurel anywhere near him. Maybe it was a stupid thing to offer, maybe she’d be putting Laurel in more danger than she ever would be here, and what room does she have to think she can help her when she couldn’t protect Stein, couldn’t keep Jax from leaving --

“I’m used to dangerous,” Laurel says slowly, interrupting Sara’s spiral of thoughts.  “I just...  maybe you should think about whether or not you and your team want me traveling with you.”

Oh -- that.

It’s a fair concern, although honestly, Sara doesn’t think the other Legends will have any particular hang-ups. Most of them didn’t even know her Laurel, and this one would hardly be their first recruit to have a spotty record (really, it’d be easier to list the team members who didn’t have a criminal history).

As far as how she herself feels about it...  

Would it be too hard? Traveling with Laurel, but not the Laurel she grew up with?

She hesitates, because her feelings are so tangled up that they’re difficult to decipher.

Laurel, meanwhile, deliberately averts her gaze.  “It’s better if we don’t stay together,” she says after a moment, her voice carefully controlled in a way that makes Sara wonder whether she really believes that or whether she’s just trying to protect herself against some kind of seemingly inevitable rejection.

“Do you really think that?” she challenges, because she’s not so sure she believes it herself. 

-- And then, the strangest thing, in the next moment: she knows she doesn’t.

Knows that if she never lets herself know this version of her sister, she’s going to wonder for the rest of her life.

That maybe the Legends aren’t good at giving a lot, but that they’d be willing to give her a family.

That Laurel can be so much better than she thinks she is if someone just gives her the chance.

“It’s always going to hurt,” Sara continues bluntly. “I mean -- with or without you, I’m always going to miss my sister. And I’m sure you feel the same way. But you and me -- all this multiversal crap aside, we’re still family.” She hesitates again, because she doesn’t know how to bear her entire soul in quite the same way as she used to do with the Laurel from this Earth. She finds she’s a little afraid to.

“...I think knowing you would make my life better, not worse,” she finishes gingerly. “But it’s your choice. You can also just... fuck off to Coast City, or something, and I won’t be offended. Promise.”

Silence hangs between them for a moment. It feels fragile. Laurel still won’t look at her, but her shoulders shake just a little, and Sara fights back the basic instinct to open the door to the cell and just hug her until she stops crying. She leans her shoulder against the bars instead, carefully composed.

When Laurel finally speaks, she still doesn’t turn around. “You know, you’re a lot like I imagined she’d be. All grown up.” Sara doesn’t have to ask who she means, barely has time to contemplate the sudden lump in her throat before Laurel brushes briefly at her eyes and finally does turn. “I don’t think I’ll make a very good hero.”

“Literally none of us do, on an average day. You’ll fit right in.” Sara offers her a rather lopsided smile, and Laurel finally, fleetingly returns it.

[astranxmica]

KaraxSara Ultimate ship meme (you know I had to!)

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME!

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - FOREVER. 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Slow-ish but faster than most would expect

How was their first kiss? - Slow and steamy; A++++++++

Wedding:

Who proposed? - they both already had rings for one another when Sara proposed after the perfect date at Kara’s favorite restaurant and then a desert she made herself-- she popped the question after-- “I just want to spend every day of my life eating delicious things with you, and kicking ass beside you, and falling more and more in love with your perfect smile” -- Kara was crying and said yes and then went to go find the kryptonian style ring she’d had custom made for sara. 

Who is the best bros? - Sara would have Rip and Oliver as groomsmen  and Mick (despite Mick complaining, he is her boi for life) as her best man

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - Kara would have Alex and Lena as her bride’s maids and Barry as her best man

Who did the most planning? - They planned together over lazy saturdays and kept it small so they enjoyed it

Who stressed the most? - Kara, she always stresses the most

How fancy was the ceremony? -  Laid back, Sara was the only one in a tux, and she didn’t even bother with an undershirt & rolled up sleeves and pants Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - the only people who were invited were the people Sara and Kara truly love and wanted to be with them, so a lot of people didn’t make the list

Sex:

Who is on top? - Oh, what night of the week are we talking, cuz it’s always up for grabs *literally*

Who is the one to instigate things? - Kara and Sara both are curious in their nature and it might surprise people, but both instigate on regular basis

How healthy is their sex life? - Um. Olympic Gold Medal.Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Kara is curious; Sara is Kink AFStraight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Rounds, Very very very long time. 

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - They make sure each person is satisfied-- not necessarily how much 

How rough are they in bed? - They can be rough, never rough enough to leave lasting harm, but they can be soft and tender tooSofter than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - A TON. LIKE. A FREAKING TON.No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - ONE [ty future tech]; laurel alura lance (( go follow her here ))

How many children will they adopt? - ONE, found in rubble 

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Kara but only because of super speed, its more efficient

Who is the stricter parent? - SARA

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - KARA, and sara’s prolly teaching her skateboard tricks

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Both! ( and there are two for Laurel, and an after school snack, because damn so much metabolism )

Who is the more loved parent? - Equally.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? Both, and both of them take no crap and advocate for their kids

Who cried the most at graduation? - Kara, though Sara might have 

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - They call Sara because she will shame them, but Kara would be DEVESTATED, and neither of them would ever want Kara looking at them with her disappointed puppy face

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Sara

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Neither really

Who does the grocery shopping? - Both, often together

How often do they bake desserts? - Like OFTEN, Sara may secretly use baking to de-stress and don't you dare tell anyone

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Sara loves a steak

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Kara & Sara trade-off, sorta competitively 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Sara, but rarely, they both like spending time together and alone 

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - Kara.... like lucky she has that ice breath thing

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Kara most often, superspeed; but Sara when Kara’s out of it or hates a task

Who is really against chores? - Sara, she hates them

Who cleans up after the pets? - Sara, cuz she loves her fur children enough to not put it on Kara

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Sara

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Neither? maybe Kara

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Kara and she totally put it in their jar for the dream vacation they want to take to the Maldives

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Sara would live in the tub if she could, and always like company

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Sara loves to walk their fur children, but Kara loves to go with her

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Kara is insane and unstoppable 

What are their goals for the relationship? - Happiness, Support, Exploration, Curiosity, Fulfillment, Never Giving Up, Happily Ever After, and Badass AF EVER COUPLE EVER

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Kara, and she deserves it

Who plays the most pranks? - Sara, until she gets Kara into it, and then equally!

@crestkeepxr  

[onceuponanolicity]

As the school year begins, Felicity and Oliver must learn how to adjust to sharing a lunch all by themselves while the rest of their group is together the period afterwards.

Chapter after the cut.

                                                                                                                     “What classes do you have this year?” Sara asked Felicity two weeks later as they walked down the hallway of the high school.

           “Advanced Chemistry with Lab afterwards. Computer Science 310 --”

           “Isn’t that a senior class?” Sara interrupted.

           “Yeah.” Felicity shrugged. “Next is lunch. I finish the day with Calculus, Gym, U.S. History and English.”

           Sara got excited. “I have English last period, too. Who do you have?”

           “McMurphy,” Felicity told her as she glanced down at her class list.

           “Yay! We’re in the same class. That’ll be fun.” Sara took a look at her own sheet. “But I don’t have lunch until fifth period. That sucks. I’ll be right after you.”

           “Hey, girls.” Tommy threw his arms around their shoulders as he joined them. “How’s my harem?”

           “Whatever.” Sara shook him off. “What lunch period do you have?”

           “Fifth.”

           Sara clapped. “Great. We have lunch together again.”

           “What about you?” Tommy asked Felicity, pushing his way between the two girls since Felicity hadn’t shrugged him off.

           “Fourth.” Felicity tried not to sound disappointed but now that she knew both of her friends shared the same lunch without her, she was. Looked like she’d be sitting alone this year since even Michael had lunch sixth period.

           “Same as Ollie,” Tommy remarked. “And let me tell you, Laurel’s pissed because she’s fifth like Sara and I. She can’t manage to switch her classes so they can have lunch together. The first time since fourth grade.” Tommy nudged Felicity. “Guess you’ll have to keep him company.”

           “I’m sure now that he’s a senior, he’ll have someone else to sit with,” Felicity told him. “What with Laurel not being there, I’m sure every girl in the lunchroom will be trying to get his attention.”

           “While that is true, Ollie could not care any less. But I’ll talk to him and tell him that at least you share the same lunch period.”

           Felicity pulled Tommy to a stop and grabbed his arm. Hard. “Don’t you dare.”

           “Why not?” Sara asked. “It’s the perfect solution. You can keep the girls from hanging all over him and he can keep you company.” Sara studied Felicity. She saw it from the corner of her eye while she still stared down Tommy. “Are you still mad at him because of last year? I mean I can’t blame you if you are.”

           “Just promise me you won’t tell him, Tommy,” Felicity pleaded. She couldn’t deal with the embarrassment in thinking that Oliver would sit with her out of pity.

           Tommy’s eyes searched hers but he eventually nodded. “Okay. I won’t.” He ruffled her long brown hair. “Be good, kiddo. I gotta run. Literally. I have gym.”

           “I have to go, too,” Sara told her after Tommy took off. “I have History on the third floor. If I don’t catch up with you, I’ll see you eighth period.”              

           “Okay.” Felicity watched her friend leave and hugged her notebook close. “Okay. Sophomore year here I come.”

           Felicity headed down the long hallway to where her science class was located. Mentally she crossed her fingers that this school year would go a lot better than the last one ended.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

           “You see Sara?” Tommy huffed as he and Oliver sat doing sit ups in gym class.

           “Not yet. You?” Oliver asked from next to him.

           “Ran into her… and Felicity… on my way… to class,” Tommy told him in spurts as he exhaled.

           Oliver stopped his own sit ups and stared at his friend, earning him a glare from the gym teacher. Laying down and starting again, Oliver asked the first question that came to mind. “When do they have lunch this year?”

           “Sara, Laurel and I share fifth.”

           “And Felicity?” Oliver tried to sound casual, or at least as casual as Tommy. It was then that Oliver noticed that his friend sped up on his exercise while trying to avoid the question. “Tommy, when does Felicity have lunch?”

           “Don’t know,” Tommy said too quickly for Oliver’s liking.

           “Even out of breath, I can tell you’re lying.” Oliver shot his best friend an evil glare out of the side of his eye.

           Tommy somehow managed to shrug. “She told me not to tell you.”

           Why not? What the hell? Oliver thought he had cleared the air between him and Felicity at the beach party. But then she did have her mom answer the door and tell him Felicity couldn’t come when he and Thea showed up to take her to the mall. Ms. Smoak, Donna, had assured him that Felicity was fine, just a little sick and couldn’t go. Oliver had wondered the whole afternoon if it had been a stall tactic to avoid him. Now, he really wanted to know if Felicity was avoiding him. “So, she’s in fourth, then?”

           “You didn’t hear it from me,” Tommy said with a wink.

           “Right.” Felicity was avoiding him then. Damn it, he thought he had cleared the air with her, apparently he had to work harder.

           “She’s afraid that you won’t want to really sit with her. That it would be a pity action because you’re friends,” Tommy explained.

           “That’s stupid. And coming from Felicity that says a lot.”

           The gym teacher stood over them tossing down some towels. “Five laps around and then grab a shower.”

           Olive rose and held out a hand to help Tommy up. Once they were both on their feet, they wrapped the towels around their necks and began a light jog around the gym.

           “She’s afraid that you’d prefer to spend your time with any number of girls who’ll throw themselves at you the second they realize Laurel isn’t there to hold them back,” Tommy said as they completed their first lap.

           “I’d rather sit with Felicity,” Oliver admitted. Sad part was it was also honest. Felicity intrigued him more than half the girls at their entire school. She never lacked for conversation once you got her talking. And it was stuff that fascinated him, even if he might not be into it himself. Or maybe it was just Felicity’s way of talking that made the conversations so addictive.

           “I’m beginning to wonder about your fascination with our young friend.”

           “She’s not that much older than Thea. She’s in a high school environment. I’m just looking out for her. Same as I would for Thea.”

           Tommy’s head turned toward him, his head cocked. “First of all, Thea is your sister. Felicity isn’t. Second, Felicity is only four years younger than us, while Thea is ten. That’s a big difference. And lastly, you haven’t been looking at Felicity lately like you would Thea.”

           “I don’t look at her at all.” Oliver glared at his best friend. “And why would I? I could have any girl I want. Pretty much any woman as well. And Felicity is a little girl.”

           “She’s not so little anymore,” Tommy said. “Don’t know if you noticed but she’s developing.” When Oliver growled and his eyes burned into Tommy, his friend held up his hands in defense. “Michael sure as hell noticed. I happened to hear him talking to Chuck at the party.”

           “I’m going to kill that kid.” Oliver off the top of his head pictured at least five different ways to do it.

           “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that sounded a touch jealous just then. Possessive,” Tommy teased. Oliver wasn’t having any of it. There was no teasing where Felicity was concerned.

           Finished with the whole conversation, Oliver picked up the pace of his run and left Tommy behind. Quickly finishing his laps, Oliver slammed his way into the shower. Stripping, he turned on the taps. Cold water shot out and Oliver relished the feel on his overly heated skin. Oliver leaned against the wall and just let the water calm him.

           “Hey, dude. If you’re going to jack off, do it in a stall,” some kid called out from the shower next to him.

           “Fuck off,” Oliver told him, barely turning his head in the kid’s direction.

           “You’re not my type,” the guy said with a smile and turned off the tap and grabbed a fresh towel from the nearby pile.

           Tommy walked in and took the guy’s place. “So, you going to tell me what happened back there?”

           “Guy’s a jerk.” Oliver nodded at the laughing kid who walked back toward the lockers. Straightening, Oliver stretched and ducked his head under the water.

           “I wasn’t talking about him.” Tommy ran his hand through his hair getting rid of any sweat. “God, I hate gym first and last periods. The water’s always cold as fuck.”

           “We’re not all lucky enough to have saunas in our personal bathrooms, Merlyn,” Mr. Clark, the gym teacher, said as he walked by and glowered at the two of them.

           “I think he hates me,” Tommy bemoaned.

           “No. He definitely hates you,” Oliver told him with a smile.

           “It’s not my fault his wife was let go from Dad’s company.”

           Oliver shook his head as he turned off the taps. “She wasn’t let go. She was fired. My dad told me about it.”

           “Wanna tell me about it? Dad is, as usual, a little short on the details.” Tommy shut down his own shower and followed Oliver over to the towels. “Back to Felicity. What’s up with the two of you?”

           Oliver wished he knew. Grabbing a towel, he began to wipe down. Finished, he wrapped it around his waist and headed for his locker. “You know, I think I’d rather tell you what happened to Mrs. Clark.”

           “Nice avoidance tactic, buddy,” Tommy said with a grin. “But I will find out eventually.”

           Oliver could only hope that he’d figure out what was going on first.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

           Felicity edged around the cafeteria, her tray gripped tight in her hands. A large group of seniors gathered around one table and Felicity was pretty sure Oliver had to be in the middle of it. The fact that the group was eighty percent beautiful girls pretty much cemented that thought in her head.

           Finding a small, empty table in the back that would only hold two people, Felicity set down her tray. This would be perfect. It was just big enough for her tray and her books. A great place to settle for the rest of the year.

           “I didn’t think you would ever sit down.”

           Felicity saw a tray slid onto the table across from hers and her eyes shot up the long, tanned arms of the interloper. Oliver. She should have known. Cross that. She did know. The second he spoke. “I thought you were sitting over there.”

           Oliver glanced at the group that Felicity indicated over his shoulder and shrugged. “Why would I want to hang out with those jocks?”

           “I don’t know,” Felicity told him. “Maybe, because over two-thirds of them are all gorgeous girls.”

           “Two-thirds? Really? You can tell that just by looking at them?”  

           “Over two-thirds.” Why was she correcting him?

           Oliver turned back to her and grabbed the milk on her tray. He opened it and plopped it back in front of her. “I guess I could hang out with them, but I’d rather sit with you. I wouldn’t have much to say over there.”

           “Right! Because you don’t talk to girls.” Felicity rolled her eyes and fiddled with her food. “Maybe if I suggested you go over and pick one up so you could sleep with her you would have left.” Ignoring the anger that appeared in Oliver’s eyes, Felicity jerked her milk up to her lips. In the process, it spilled on her new blouse. Tears welled up in her eyes as she grabbed a napkin and tried to swipe it out of the fabric. This was the nicest shirt she ever owned and she couldn’t afford for it to be ruined.

           “Let me help.” Oliver grabbed a napkin and licked it before he leaned across the table and pressed it to her collar where some of the milk must have landed without her knowledge.

           “I can do it,” Felicity practically growled at him.

           “Why are you being so catty? What did I do?”

           “Nothing.”

           Oliver groaned and sat back down, throwing the napkin on the table. “Great. What was it?”

           Felicity stopped cleaning and met his eyes. “Nothing.”

           “Which means in female terms means that I messed up.” Oliver cocked his head. “What did I do?”

           “You want a reason?” She couldn’t believe he was actually still sitting there.

           “Yes.” Oliver sat there studying her, his face intent. “I want an answer.”

           “Because I didn’t want to eat with you.” It was the first answer she could come up with. It was plausible because she hadn’t really expected to have him sit with her anyway.

           Oliver took in the table and the location that was separated from a large portion of the lunchroom. “Are you planning to be here with Michael?”

           “No.” Why was that his first thought? She just wanted to be left alone.

           “So, it’s me.”  

           “Yes.” Frack. She hadn’t meant to say that. She saw hurt invade his eyes. “No. I didn’t mean that.”

           “Sounded like you did.” The two of them sat there, silence lay heavy between the two of them. Finally, he broke the tension, only to create more. “I apologized. I bought you some damn earrings. If I could change what happened, I would. But I can’t. Why can’t you get over that?”

           “I have,” Felicity said in her loud voice, drawing the attention of the couple of tables that were nearby. She took a deep breath. “It isn’t that.” She reached across the table and laid a hand over Oliver’s but quickly pulled it back when a shot of electricity shot up her arm.

           “You can’t even touch me,” he remarked. Oliver stood and grabbed his tray. “I’ll sit somewhere else and leave you alone.”

           “I’m sorry,” Felicity apologized. “Sit.”

           Oliver shake of his head had her closing her eyes to keep the tears back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

           “Please, sit,” she begged opening her eyes.

           “Why? You don’t want me here.”

           His words couldn’t be further from the truth. Felicity actually craved his attention. More than she should. One of the many reasons she hated puberty. “Please.”

           “Fine.” Oliver sat back down but his back was stiff. Felicity could tell that he was beyond uncomfortable. “But, tomorrow I’ll sit somewhere else.”

           “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” A complete lie. She knew exactly what was wrong with her. Crushes sucked when you were well aware that the person you crushed on had no idea or would never be interested if they did.

           “It’s okay,” Oliver said with understanding that she didn’t understand. “Laurel’s the same way at least once a month.” Felicity’s cheeks flamed but Oliver didn’t even notice as he picked up his burger and took a large bite.

           “It’s not that. That was a couple of weeks ago.” Frack! Felicity clamped her hand over her mouth. Oliver’s eyes shot up from his tray to meet with hers. He stopped chewing and swallowed hard. Well, there was no hope that he happened to miss the comment.

           “Is that why you couldn’t come with me and Thea?”

           Sure, let’s talk about this, Oliver. Felicity inwardly shuddered. Because every pubescent teenager wished to talk about their menstrual cycle with their high school crush. “Yes.”

           “Sorry.” Why did he really seem sorry? Gah!

           “It’s not your fault. Not unless you happened to be the one to offer Eve the apple.”

           “What?” He looked genuinely confused and Felicity bit back a smile.

           “You know, the snake offered Eve the apple and she offered it to Adam.” At his still confused stare, Felicity waved the conversation away. “It doesn’t matter. Just forget it.”

           “Are you and I seriously having a conversation about Adam and Eve at lunch?” Oliver couldn’t believe it. He did not need to think of Felicity in any context where she’d be naked. Not after Tommy brought the changes to Felicity to his attention. Oliver sat there silently berating his smaller head for reacting to the thoughts that were more than wrong. Felicity was barely a teenager. Oliver wished he wouldn’t look so stupid, because he seriously wanted to smack himself in the head.

           Felicity’s cheeks seemed to have become a permanent shade of red. She tried to hide behind her long hair but she had to sweep it back to one side in order to eat. And in that moment, her food seemed like the most important thing in the world to her.

           “How are classes?” Oliver asked. He figured a change of subject would be the best for the both of them. And the thought of studying always killed his libido quickly.

           “Good. Laurel’s in my computer class.”

           “She is?” Good. Laurel. That would definitely keep Oliver’s wayward thoughts in check. Thoughts that he couldn’t figure out why he was thinking. This was Felicity. Young Felicity. Smart Felicity. Not some girl to sleep with just to keep himself occupied.

           Felicity nodded and shoved a couple of fries into her mouth. There were so many of them in there that she had to cover her mouth to even chew. It was kind of adorable. Damn it, he berated himself. Don’t start that again.

           “Tommy’s having a back to school bash at the Merlyn Manor on Friday night,” Oliver told her. “You going?”

           “He hasn’t invited me,” she mumbled around her food.

           “I’m inviting you.”

           Her eyes grew wide and she tried to swallow but it caught in her throat. She began to choke and Oliver jumped up to help. He was about to start pounding her on the back when she held up a hand to stop him and took a drink of milk. “I’m fine.”

           “Uh-huh.” He had no argument for that. In the thin pink blouse she wore over a tank top and black jeans, he had no argument about how she looked. Though Oliver had a serious feeling the top was her mom’s idea. Felicity seemed to prefer a more edgy style and the blouse surprised him the second he saw her in it. More than that Oliver recognized the top. It had once been worn by his mother. She had thrown it in the thrift shop bin after only wearing it once because she claimed the pink was so bright that it washed her out. It did no such thing on Felicity. Actually, it complimented her coloring. Even when her cheeks burned with embarrassment. The way Felicity acted in it, he could tell it made her feel beautiful and grown up.

           “I’ll ask my mom, but I’m sure she’ll probably tell me I can go. Especially if Tommy is holding it. She really likes him.” Felicity twisted a piece of her hair on her finger. “What’s everyone wearing?”

           Oliver shrugged and settled back in his seat. “Casual, I guess,” he told her as he put a few of his fries on her tray.

           “You don’t have to give me your fries.” Felicity lifted them back up and began to put them back but Oliver held her off. “I still haven’t finished my burger and the bell’s about to ring in five minutes. Eat them.”

           “Thanks,” she said as she put one in her mouth.

           “No problem. Does that mean that I might be able to join you every now and then for lunch?” Oliver nodded toward the group that Felicity noticed earlier. “You know when I need to escape.”

           “I’m sorry.” She reached out to him and this time he grabbed her hand so she couldn’t pull away. “You can sit here anytime.”

           “And if I do,” Oliver stared down at their joined hands for a moment before returning his attention to the girl in front of him, “will you be here too?”

           When she nodded, Oliver felt relief course through him. Scooping up his burger, Oliver finished it in a couple of bites. He tried to pretend that her answer didn’t mean as much to him as it did. Her acknowledgement had made him feel like he had won some sort of battle. A battle he didn’t know he had been willing to fight until he noticed the consequence of loss.

           For the rest of the afternoon, Oliver tried hard to figure out why it had meant so much for him to win. Felicity certainly wasn’t any sort of conquest. Definitely not someone to notch a hole in his bedpost for. If he was honest with himself, when it came to Felicity he’d throw out his whole damn bed. Oliver didn’t really want to dwell on why.

@almondblossomme @miriam1779 @1106angel @sunshine0977

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Hearts of Steel (ch. 2 of 3)

Len heads back to his Earth, temporarily, with Sara by his side. But fixing what he'd left behind won't be easy, and sometimes the idea of "home" is more complicated than it seems.

Thanks again to @larielromeniel! I posted this here on AO3 a few days ago, but was delayed in getting it up on Tumblr. Note that you really do want to read the first chapter first. (And probably the rest in the series.)

Angst ahoy!

It turns out that this Earth’s Mick—once Len had powered forward enough behind his shield of surging ice—had stood down once Len had managed to get his message across. He’s now standing with the rest of them in the room adjacent to the one where they’d battled, arms folded, expression blank, small flames occasionally licking across his burned, scarred skin. It’s all too clear where the faint scent of cooking meat had come from before, as the skin sizzles and blisters and heals, again and again, but the big man shows no sign of any pain. Indeed, very little reaction at all.

After a moment, he seems to feel Sara’s eyes on him and glances at her, life momentarily sparking in his own eyes—eyes a weirdly different shade than her Mick’s eyes, and isn’t that an odd difference?

There’s assessment there, briefly, almost curiosity, but it’s quickly gone, replaced by that waiting blankness. Sara knows that this Mick is a different man than the Legend she knows—he met Len when they were both about 10 years older, for one thing—but actually seeing how profound the difference is…it hurts, almost physically. She sees the regretful look Len gives his old friend as he saunters by, but his focus is on his sister, who may have deigned not to kill them, but certainly isn’t happy about the matter.

Lisa Snart—Lady Midas—is sitting on a chair at one end of the room, where she’d slowly stalked after entering, silent and grim. The piece of furniture looks like it started life as an ordinary, cozy papasan, but now it’s just like its owner: solid gold.

Lisa bears the mark of her gold gun in every part of her, living gold from her hair to her toes. She somehow still moves like flesh, which is more than anyone can say for anything else she touches with a bare hand—such as the figure, easily taken for a particularly disturbing statue, standing in the corner.

“That damn fool Scudder thought he could use her,” Len had told Sara, back on her Earth. “He…found out otherwise. No, she’s safe. But it’s no way to live.”

Len walks over to stand in front of the chair, and no one in the room can miss that he’s just out of arm’s reach. The siblings regard each other, icy blue eyes meeting golden orbs that shouldn’t even be able to see, and Sara feels her heart clench, thinking of Laurel and the way any Leonard Snart she’s ever known has talked about his sister.

Lisa’s “wearing” what seems to be a leather jacket, T-shirt and jeans, all melded into the gold that’s consumed her. The only thing that isn’t gold is the long pair of black silk gloves she’s now wearing, like something out of an Audrey Hepburn movie, and Sara knows from Len that given time, those will have to be removed too, switched for a newer pair, lest they start to turn as well. Raw silk, as far as he knows, is the only thing that’s even remotely resistant to her “powers.” For now.

“So,” the other woman says in that odd, hollow tone. “Back to the scene of the crime, big brother? We thought you were gone, fled, from both your ‘Justice League’ and us, like the coward you are.”

Len’s chin goes up stubbornly, but Sara can see his eyes are full of anguish. “I didn’t run,” he returns. “You threw me out. And I joined the League because…”

But Lisa cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “You were gone. Why doesn’t matter.”

Sara’s temper gets the better of her. “He didn’t have a choice,” she snaps, stepping forward as those golden eyes snap to her. “He was trying to get back. And he even managed to find a way to help before he did.”

Lisa stares at her, but Mick interrupts the fledgling standoff by stepping forward himself. “Help?” he rumbles. “Snart?”

Len gives him a harried look, glancing back at Lisa and Sara and then over at his former friend. Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the small bottle Wells had given him.

“If you take one of these, it will undo…it will undo what I forced you into,” he says starkly. “Take away the damned ‘powers.’ Can’t give you your guns back. But…”

It’s less what he did than, more strictly speaking, what a rogue meta did, in combination with their upgraded guns, but Sara holds her peace on that. She understands Len’s guilt. Nothing she says will change that.

Mick and Lisa both look at the bottle. But Lisa is frowning, and Sara knows that’s not precisely what Len had expected.

“Undo…” the golden woman muses. “How do we know that’s true? This is…” An odd look flickers across her face. “…not the best existence, but how do we know you won’t make it worse? At least no one can hurt me now.” She shakes her head at Len as he starts to protest. “You said it would make things better, before. It did not.”

“Lis…” Len takes a deep breath, then closes his eyes. “Lis, Mick, I screwed up. Big time. I was trying to up the game. I thought I knew best. I didn’t. I didn’t plan that meta, but it’s still on me.” He sighs, voice cracking a little. “I’m trying to fix it. Believe it or not, I’ve been trying ever since. And I’m gonna get outta your hair, soon. I’m leaving for good.” He opens his eyes, glancing at Sara. “But…but I can’t do it until I know I’ve fixed my fuck-up. Please. What can I do?”

Mick remains silent, eyes unreadable. Lisa turns her gaze to Sara too, her expression turning considering, and for a moment, Sara has the scary feeling she’s considering making her brother pay by making him give up something he apparently wants. But then she turns back, nodding as if to herself.

“And would you take one of those…whatever they are?” she says in her metallic tone.

“Nanites,” Len says almost automatically, looking at the bottle. “To fix the DNA. I…” He hesitates.

He largely has control over his powers, in part, apparently, because he’d worked to get control of his gun when it was first linked with him, Sara knows. They’re part of him now. But…

“Yes,” Len says finally, abruptly. “If that’s what you want. There are three. I…”

Then he just shakes his head, pops the top of the bottle and shakes one of the pills out onto his hand. He holds it up, regarding it, then looks at Sara.

“You’re still a Legend,” she tells him quietly, ignoring Lisa watching them. “Powers or not. Do what you have to do.”

Len gives her a nod, eyes fixed on hers, and then…

Then Mick steps forward, suddenly, unexpectedly, and grabs the pill right out of his former friend’s hand. He pops it in his mouth, swallowing, as Len whirls to stare at him, and Lisa jerkily gets right up from her seat, stepping forward too.

“Mick?” she says, sounding the most human Sara has heard her yet. “What…”

The bigger man shakes his head, lowering his hand. “Sorry, squirt,” he rumbles. “I’m sick of this. Sick of…the burning shit. Thought I’d never get tired of that, once, but…it hurts.” He looks down at his hands, even as another small flame licks along his left wrist, and another curls around his right elbow. “All the fuckin’ time. And I can’t…can’t even have a beer within it getting all warm and disgusting.” He darts a look at Len, who’s regarding him with a complicated expression. “How long will it take until this stuff starts working, Snart?”

Len clears his throat, obviously taken aback by the turn things have taken. “Shouldn’t be long. Mick…I…”

“Stuff it. I get it.” Mick frowns at him. “I think I couldn’t have told you to fuck off if I really wanted to, back then? I liked the idea of throwing fire around, ‘specially at the pigs. It’s not all about you, asshole.”

Sara can’t help it; she laughs at the flummoxed look on Len’s face, at the reminder that this Mick does have some attitude in common with the one she knows. This Mick looks at her again, and this time, he actually smirks. He opens his mouth…

But Sara never gets the chance to hear what he was going to say to her. Because at that moment, Mick Rory shudders, fist clenching, and staggers, nearly toppling to the ground.  Len lunges for him, arms icing up as a defense against the involuntary flames, and catches him, sort of, lowering him to the floor—which is, fortunately and unfortunately, bare metal.

“Mick?” Lisa cries again, something unhinged in her tone again. “Get away from him!” She starts for Len, even as Sara starts for her, but Len puts up a hand and Lisa, at least, stops, staring at her estranged brother in anger and the fallen man in dismay.

Mick’s unconscious and twitching, now, and Sara makes a decision, stepping around Lisa to grab a coat--it looks like the old fireman’s coat she’s seen her Earth’s Mick wear, actually—off a chair and folding it, kneeling down to tuck it under the big man’s head. Mick jerks again, his spine arching right off the floor, and Lisa makes a noise of distress, watching.

“He’s going to be fine,” Len says in a determined tone (and maybe only Sara can hear the concern in his voice, and the promise of anger if Wells and Team Flash misrepresented this “cure”). “Lisa, I swear. It just doesn’t work immediately…”

“You said that before,” she hisses back at him, shoulders hunched, fists clenched. “ ‘Lisa, it’ll take time to get used to it.’ ‘Lisa, it’ll get better.’ ‘Lisa, it will be OK….!’ ”

Len’s shoulders hunch too, as if he’s been struck, but he continues on. “You can take the other one. We’ll watch over both of you…”

“I don’t even know who she is.” Lisa gives Sara a look that might be rather nasty—it’s sort of hard to tell with her gilded features. “One of your precious new heroes? What’d she say…a legend? Aren’t most legends dead?”

That cuts just a little close to the quick, and Sara can’t stay quiet. “Lisa, your brother’s a good man. And he’s right, this will…”

“You be quiet! You’re like them…”

“Lisa, please…”

Mick makes a deep groaning noise, then, and all three of them look at him, just in time to see flames leap up around his hands, even as they’re folded across his chest. But even as Len reaches out to douse them, they flicker and die, and Mick twitches again, going still and pale underneath the copious scars.

Len’s eyes are narrowed, his jaw set as he checks the other man’s pulse. Sara sees him relax just a little—a good sign—before Lisa decides enough is enough. She pulls off one black glove, dropping it to the floor, then another, and reaches for Len with a growl.

He blocks with an iced-up hand, and Sara can see his expression freeze as he realizes the ice is the only thing that’d stopped him from becoming another statue. For her part, she’s rarely felt so helpless. She has few defenses against Lisa’s powers, and she and Len, at least, know it.

“Lisa,” Len whispers again, wrapping his ice-clad fingers around his sister’s golden hand, “please.”

The other woman’s eyes are shining, and while it’s almost certainly the light off the metallic surface, the effect is reminiscent of tears.  “He’s the only one I have left!” she cries, and Sara can see Len’s face still in pain. “The only one of the Rogues who stayed, who isn’t terrified of me. If he dies…if you’ve killed him…” She jerks her hand back. “Get out!”

Len struggles to his feet as Sara reaches out to take his hand. “Lis, someone who can…who can touch him should stay…”

“Get out!”

There’s really only one thing left to do. They get out.

Len puts the bottle holding the remaining two pills on the table before they go.

Get out.

Len can tell Sara is letting him take the lead here; he knows this Earth, knows this city. But they’re not out of the building five minutes, just barely out of the industrial district, when he feels his steps slow, almost involuntarily.

He…thought it would be different, he thinks numbly. He’s not sure why; it’s not like he’d expected adulation for fixing what he’d screwed up in the first place. But he’d tried, he really had, and he’d thought he could help…

He can’t even save his sister and his oldest friend, not really. Some kind of hero. No kind of hero at all…

“Len?” Sara’s voice is soft, and he blinks, suddenly realizing that he’s been standing there staring at his feet. He looks up at her, and whatever she sees in his face, it makes her own expression contract, and she reaches out to take his arm.

He’s no fan of sympathy, but he just can’t bring himself to shy away from it now, not from her. He grabs her hand like it’s a lifeline and they stand there, linked, numb.

Finally, Len sighs. “I need a shower,” he mumbles, looking down at his sweaty, slightly singed uniform. “Gotta place we can go. I think. You…OK?”

He’s really not sure what he’s asking, but Sara seems to get it. She nods, squeezing his hand. “Lead on.”

The Blue Moon motel isn’t part of one of the shiny new chains that have proliferated so much in the past few decades. Rather, it’s one of the family-owned, roadside types with a tiny rectangular pool in the protective semicircle of the rooms, and an office at one end, which is where Len slowly heads, still holding Sara’s hand.

The dark-haired woman behind the desk starts as she sees them, but quickly gets to her feet, calling Len “Mr. Cold,” which gives Sara a much-needed smile. The woman listens intently, obviously holding back questions as Len asks if the motel has a spare room for a few hours, then nods, reaching behind the counter to grab a key and extending it to Len.

“It’s…good…to see you back,” she says quietly, darting a curious glance at Sara and their still-linked hands. “Are you…can I do anything…”

Len takes the key with a weary smile. “This is good, Amari,” he says quietly. “Thanks. I…I’m not going to be around long, but we desperately need a shower and maybe a nap. I appreciate it.”

Amari gives him a nod. “It’s the least we can do, Mr. Cold, after how you helped us out.” She darts another look at Sara. “Take your time.”

Sara nearly laughs at the woman’s obvious speculation—she’s exhausted, filthy, and heartsick, not really in the mood for “taking their time.” But she thanks Amari fervently anyway, then squeezes Len’s hand, tugging gently.

He blinks, having apparently zoned out again, then says something quiet to Amari and turns for the door. They slowly cross the parking lot toward the far end of the motel, Sara checking the position of the sun in the afternoon sky, then Len finds the door he’s looking for and fumbles the key into the lock.

The room is small and spare, but immaculate, and Sara pulls Len, who’s frozen again, inside, locking the door behind them. “Go take your shower,” she tells him quietly, reaching up to cup his face with a hand. “You’ll feel better.”

Physically, anyway. But neither of them says that. Len nods jerkily after a moment, then turns, heading for the bathroom. Sara watches him go.

He has the water cold, at first, just this side of icy. It’s not like it really bothers him, after all, and after the flames, the chill feels good.

But he’s weary of hiding behind ice, and after a few minutes, he turns the temperature up, to something nearly scalding. Poor penance, for what Mick’s gone through. Is going through? Will the other man wake up, in time, bellowing for a beer that isn’t warm and grumbling about finding a new heat gun? He should have stayed, should have told Lisa…

But he keeps seeing that golden hand coming for his heart, with no hesitation at all.

Len turns the water temp back down to something more lukewarm, standing under the spray with his eyes closed, memory assailing him. After a moment, he leans forward, resting his forehead against the glossy white shower walls, cognizant of the tears—hotter than the water falling from the showerhead—running down his face.

He’s not sure how long he stands there. Long enough for the water to cool even more. Long enough that he starts as the shower curtain is pulled aside, and he turns and blinks to see Sara there, regarding him.

She’s already stripped her uniform off; well, if he’d been feeling grimy, she probably was too. He blinks again, water running down his face as she studies him, then nods, pulling her sports bra off over her head and stripping off her panties in a businesslike manner.

Then she steps forward and into the shower, tilting her head back under the spray just a moment before regarding him again—and then, reading his expression correctly, moving forward into his arms.

It should be sexy as hell, and certainly his body reacts that way. But as Len’s arms tighten convulsively around her, he lowers his forehead to hers, dragging in a shaky breath, and the tears surge again, hot on his face as Sara runs a gentle hand down his scarred back, her other hand pressing him closer. They stand like that a few long minutes before Len sighs again, then tilts his head, dipping it a little more even as Sara goes up on her toes to lift her lips to his.

They kiss under the cool water, a slow, gentle kiss that tastes of salt and the faint mineral tang of the shower spray, a kiss that speaks more of love and understanding than passion and desire, at least for now. Len closes his eyes, moving his hands to Sara’s shoulders, breathing deeply for a moment before kissing her again, even as the water cools even further and goosebumps rise on their skin.

He’s lost a lot, in the past year, much of it his own doing, but he’s gained too. Changed and grown and gained so much, and the most remarkable part of it is this amazing woman, who loves him even though she knows who and what he is, his flaws and his quirks and his deeds good and bad and ugly.

Where Sara is, is home.