#ch. jax river

[clonehub]

Jax hates theme parks and water parks. He's a huge nerd for fantasy and all things having to do with magic and chosen ones and weird worlds and wild stories with corny ass romances so you'd think he'd love like. Elf land and all that. But no. He hates them. Don't take him to a water park he'll get angry.

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 4)

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Summary: You've been sold to a new group - again. KorTac just bought you off of the last team's hands, forcing you to uproot and settle a fifth time. Something feels different about this team, but you remain distant and cold from everyone. You figure in a few months, you'll be tossed onto the next bidder's plate, anyways. No sense in trying to bond with anyone now.

Additionally, Konig takes the first step at cracking through your outer shell.

Warnings: some distasteful jokes.

Notes: Nothing fancy here, just setting up the foundation for the upcoming events. This weekend should be more eventful! Thanks to everyone who's loved it so far, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter! (Also, still working on some oneshots and a Price fic too)

A year had passed. It felt like ten. I had been traded between four different private military groups. It felt like forty.

Working with Jax’s group started out just fine. On the first mission, things couldn’t have gone more smoothly. I took down every single enemy that stood in between me, the team, and the hostile package we were saving. We were done in less than three hours. Apparently, that was a problem for the rest of the team. I was too good. So skillful, I was hurting their egos. Rather than think of how I was helping carry out missions successfully without any significant losses, the team complained that I wasn’t fitting in and was causing a problem among the members. “Like she did back at her old base.”

I hadn’t been causing problems at all, but I hadn’t been trying to fit in either. From the moment I walked onto the base, I felt like a reject. I minded my own business and kept to myself, only being a team player when we were briefing or when we were on the field. The rest of the team was just fine with that arrangement, until they thought my skill threatened their reputation. The results of the missions I attended with the group should have convinced Jax to ignore his soldiers’ requests to have me bumped, but as with Price, he had his favorites. And he chose to listen to them.

It was a similar talk as the one I had with Price. You’re good, but the team doesn’t like you. You’re not really causing issues but, indirectly, you are. So we’re selling you to another private group. Even though they were selling me off just as easily and quickly as Price had, this didn’t hurt as much. Because I never had anything here to root myself onto to begin with.

So there I was, back on the heli, squinting down at the complex as my hair whipped around my face. Some soldiers stared back at me, sneering. Some smug. I stared back, expressionless. I’d learned to grow a hard shell around my roots – if I couldn’t be planted anywhere, it wouldn’t hurt as much when I was torn out of the earth again.

The two soldiers in the front seat were quiet. They pulled the heli off of the landing pad, speaking to each other in a language I wasn’t familiar with. It sounded Swedish. I turned my attention to the file in my hands, gripping it tightly as the wind threatened to snatch it from me.

KORTAC

Majka/Ridgeback

CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT

I signed, looking out at the clouds. Another initiation briefing, another ice-breaker, another couple of months of hell. I mentally prepared myself for the unwelcoming stares and the countless cold shoulders I would bump into trying to rub elbows with this new group. I wasn’t sure if I would ever find a place to land, or if I would keep hopping across teams like rocks in a river, until I was swallowed by the water and carried away. Hopefully that happens sooner rather than later.

-----

I stood in the corner of the dimly lit room, settled in the shadows behind Ridgeback’s desk. He sat there, scribbling his signature on my document. I noticed how often he muttered to himself as he worked, his brow consistently furrowed, as if everything he read was something troubling. Eventually, he flipped through the pages once more, before grunting in approval. “Just about finished here, I’ll just need one more signature from you. Then you’re officially a KorTac sergeant.”

Like hell I am.

He held out his pen in my direction. I took it, scribbling my signature at the bottom of the page. It was sloppy. He scoffed. “You ain’t gonna give it a once-over?” he asked.

“No sir, I already know what’s in my contract.” I replied dryly. Five years, stealth expert, marksman, sniper-as-needed, subject to termination at director’s discretion.

He smirked at my expression. “I have a feeling you’ll fit right in with the rest of us.”

I doubt it. “We’ll see, sir.”

After signing my contract, Ridgeback collect the papers and we shuffled out of his office. He made his way down the hall as I trailed behind. The compound that KorTac was based at was surprisingly the most decent-looking out of the previous compounds I had been at. From what I had bothered to look at in the file, they were pretty well off; they carried out missions for different eastern governments as easily as one would check something off their to do list. And they were paid handsomely. Something I had to look forward to. Maybe something that would coerce me into putting in an effort to stay with the team.

Ridgeback was one of their leaders, and was a sinister looking thing. His eyes were always filled with suspicion, his body was hulking and tense… He looked like he was either ready for me to stab him in the back, or that he was getting ready to do that to me himself. His steps echoed through the halls rhythmically, while mine were nearly inaudible.

Despite my hard outer-shell, I was on edge. Every time I was signed to a new team, there were jabs, insults, threats, and sometimes petty attempts to trip me up – mentally and physically. I had no reason to think that this compound would be any different. If I could, I would have grown spikes from my skin, keeping everyone and everything at a distance.

We entered a small room with a table, some chairs, and a rug. How much do the governments pay them to afford such a luxury? Several people stood throughout the room, mostly against the far wall. Ridgeback slapped his papers on the table, spreading them to his liking, while I pressed myself against the wall behind him. Just a few minutes of this, then I can leave. I prayed that the meeting would go by quickly so I could go to my room. I felt like a dog, snarling and hunched as I faced the pack of wolves, who stared at me dangerously. You’re in the wrong group.

Ridgeback cleared his throat. “I hope you all looked over the files this morning.”

No answer.

“As usual, I see…” he sighed. “We have a new team member. I’d like you to please welcome ‘Bonnie’.” He stepped aside and gestured to me with a tilt of his head.

I met everyone in the eyes with an ice-cold gaze. I wanted it to be known: Leave me alone. I’ll do my job, you do yours. Otherwise, fuck off.

A few stares, some rolling eyes, some groans, and the occasional indifferent glance. I was used to it: no one wanted me here. Give it a few months and I would be sold off to the next group. My skills couldn’t make up for the lack of chemistry with the team – I would be wasting no efforts to change that.

“What does she bring to the table?” one man asked.

“Better be a sandwich.” Someone answered, earning a few laughs.

“Chlamydia.” Another said. More laughter. A few glares towards the speaker.

I continued to stare at the wall behind them, unamused.

“I expect you to treat her with respect.” Ridgeback continued, purposefully directing his words towards certain people in the room. “We’ve needed another marksman for a while now, and she just so happens to bring other skills with her. She’s a decorated sergeant major that specializes in stealth extractions and attacks. We need her. You all know that, seeing as how these last few months you all have been lacking.”

More silence. Some people shifted uncomfortably.

“So please accept her as one of our own, because she’s here for a while.”

I groaned internally. We’ll see.

Ridgeback moved on to talk about other things. An upcoming hostage-rescue mission set to take place two weeks from now. I remained against the wall, listening close to the details: I would be one of the first people to strike, alongside Fender, O’Connor, Konig, and Horangi. Fender and O’Connor would work together on a checkpoint, while Konig, Horangi, and I would be alone to take out the other three. Zero, Roze, Juno, and Oni would be retrieving and extracting the hostage package, with Castillo and O’Connor covering them as snipers – once O’Connor and Fender had cleared their checkpoint. Mine wasn’t too far away from them, so I would be backup as needed.

Simple enough.

After the briefing, we were dismissed, and I trudged out of the room with everyone else. I broke off from the crowd and walked briskly down the hall. I heard a few disgruntled voices as I pushed past the bodies.

“Gone so soon?” a woman’s voice called out. I didn’t bother to turn around.

“Got shit I need to do.” I replied.

“Fair – we’ll be in the commons later, you should swing by. I’d be rude if you didn’t introduce yourself.”

I ignored her and continued down the hall. I pulled my keycard out of my pocket – this compound was nice. Most bases didn’t even have the luxury of locked doors, let alone private barrack rooms. I reached my door and hurriedly tapped the card on the lock, stepping inside and locking myself in.

I let out a tired sigh, leaning back against the door. I didn’t feel anxious, yet my shoulders couldn’t have been more tense. Having to adjust to a new team for the fifth time… the weight of it finally settled on my mind, and I groaned. Maybe I should just quit. Being a civilian would be boring, but at least it’s a consistent life.

My bags were still piled on the floor near my bed. I had the convenience of an in-unit shower and bathroom, as well as a desk and a short dresser. I grabbed one of the bags, dropping it onto my bed and rummaging through it. I pulled out a pair of cargo pants and a compression shirt – I desperately needed to change, as my current clothes were still covered in dust and dirt from the helicopter ride.

I quickly took a shower, leaving my hair in a braid and focusing on washing the dirt from my body. I dried off and pulled on the new set of clothes. I looked at myself in the mirror – my eyes had dark bags under them, and my mouth had a slight downturn in the corners. Something that had become permanent over the last year.

I walked back into my room. My bag was still on the bed, clothes strewn about, along with a couple of books and files. I sighed, pushing them all to the side and flopping down on the mattress. Damn, I might actually try to stay this time… I thought, sinking into the pillows. I closed my eyes, wondering if I would even go to the common area tonight. They’d be fine if I wasn’t there.

Suddenly, I heard a soft knock on my door. I tilted my head up, staring daggers into the door, hoping whoever it was would just go away. I’d had my fill of strangers for the day. I dropped my head back down onto the pillows. Another, sharper knock thrummed against the door.

“Busy.” I stated loudly.

“No you’re not.” An accented voice spoke through the door.

I scoffed, rolling out of bed and making my way to the door. Who the fuck-

I opened it annoyedly; my eyes were met with someone’s chest under their compression shirt. I looked upwards until I finally found their eyes, which were the only things visible under his sniper hood. I cocked my head to the side. “Yes?”

The man cleared his throat. “Bonnie?” he asked. There was a sense of professionalism in his voice, with an undertone of… nervousness? I couldn’t quite place it.

“That’d be me.” I said curtly. Unintentionally, my demeanor became cold and unwelcoming, as I had forced it to over the years when I had to interact with anyone. Alone, I was myself. Around other people, no one had the opportunity to know what I was like. I refused to let them.

“Konig.” He reached his hand down in front of me. I grasped it firmly and shook it, surprised at how strong his hold was.

“Cool.” I said.

“I’m your Colonel.” He spoke, and I noticed his Austrian accent.

“Cool.” I repeated.

“Since we’ll be working together,” he started, taking a step back so I didn’t have to crane my neck so hard to look at him, “I figured a proper introduction was in order.” He peered over my shoulder, glancing at the clothes strewn about my bed. I caught a flicker of annoyance in his glance, before he looked back at me. “What do you say we talk over dinner? You’ll get a chance to meet the rest of the team, and figure out how we work.”

“Actually, we won’t be working together.” I stated, crossing my arms over my chest. Konig looked confused. I continued: “Ridgeback said you’ll have your own checkpoint to clear, and I’ll have mine. I don’t need to ‘figure anything out’. I know how to do my job, thank you very much.”

Konig’s eyes narrowed in disgust. I saw his hands clenching into fists. “You’re a part of a team. You need to work with them, you know.”

“I don’t need anything.” I snapped. “Tell me what to do and I’ll get it done. That’s what I do.”

Konig huffed in frustration. He gave me one last glare before muttering something in German and storming off. I sneered behind his back, then closed my door behind me.

I started to curse at myself – I was given the perfect opportunity to bond with the team, and I had squashed it like a bug. But I told myself what I always did. It wouldn’t have worked out anyways. Just wait until after the first mission, you’ll be sold of to the next director that deems you useful. It’s only a matter of time – no use trying to find a sense of home here. I walked back over to my bed, dropping on it with a scowl.

My roots were hanging in the air, desperate to grab hold of something, anything – just to ground myself. My leaves were starting to fall off and float away, and my branches were tired. I was so tired. I wished I was back with the 141. I wished I had said something to Soap before I left. I should have begged Price to let me stay. I should have tried to talk it out with Ghost from the night that it first fell apart.

I groaned, cradling my head in my hands. I’m not going to the common area tonight.

-----

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues

[spaz8550]

Love Me Harder

Ch 24

Kerry was not surprised when Happy’s trip was extended a few extra days. Things had gotten very tense between Gemma and Tara who were hardly speaking again. Kerry kept her distance from both women using her time to start organizing lesson plans for the start of school. Gemma announced that Tara would be taking the boys to Oregon for a few days and Kerry went to help her pack, Tara was quiet about what was going on, the only information she got was Jax would be escorting them. 

The next morning Kerry was at a professional development workshop at her school when her phone started buzzing. Gemma knew she was at a meeting and Kerry let it go to voicemail thinking it was an invite for dinner. Happy’s name lit up moments later and Kerry’s stomach fell, if Hap was calling her then something was up. Kerry walked into the hallway. 

“Where are you?” Hap growled. 

“At work, I have a training.”  

“Stay there, someone will come and get you soon. Tara is on her way to the hospital, someone tried to take her and she’s hurt.”  

“What?”  

“I don’t know all the details. Koz called and told me someone tried to grab Tara, Jax stopped them. I gotta go, keep your phone out.”  

Kerry listened to Gem’s message as tears filled her eyes. The assistant principal was annoyed with Kerry’s excuse and tried to fake concern. Within the hour Koz escorted her to the hospital where everyone was on edge. 

“Thank goodness you are ok.” Gemma said putting an arm around Kerry. 

“I’m sorry, Gem.”  

“I know you were at work. Koz told us when he got in contact with Hap. Call your Old Man and let him know you’re here.”  

Kerry walked over to the seats and pulled out her phone. 

“Hello?”  

“Hap, it’s me. Koz picked me up and I’m at the hospital.”  

“Good, stay there with everyone and if you leave take someone with you. Stay at the clubhouse till I get back. I should be back in another day or two.”  

“Ok, I will.”  

“I’ll call you tonight.” 

Kerry went to sit with Gemma. It seemed like hours before Jax was given an update, they were able to perform a surgery on Tara’s hand and the outcome looked good. With this news Gemma was quick to disburse the crowd. Kozik stopped by the house with Kerry so she could pack a bag and get Kasey then they returned to the clubhouse. Tig, Chibs, and Bobby were also at the clubhouse looking tense. 

“I’ll make dinner.”  Kerry announced leaving Kasey with Tig who has offered to take her for a walk.  She put together breakfast for dinner making pancakes, eggs, and bacon. 

“This is great, lass.” Chibs said sipping his coffee. 

After dinner Kerry had a brief conversation with Happy letting him know she was ok and staying at the clubhouse. Kerry lay awake for awhile before falling into a deep sleep. When she woke up the clubhouse was quiet and after making sure Kasey was fed she found Ratboy to escort her to the hospital. 

“She’s been sending everyone away.” Phil said from his post by the door. 

“I’m going to try and hope for the best.”  

Kerry opened the door to see Tara staring at the wall her hand bandaged and her eyes swollen. 

“Do you need anything?”  

“No, I just want to be alone. Could you check on the boys though?”  

“Sure, I’ll make sure they are ok. Want me to bring them to the clubhouse?”  

Tara nodded and went back to her staring. 

“I’ll come back tomorrow with some chocolates.”  

Tara gave a small nod and Kerry slipped out the door. 

“We’re going to get Abel and Thomas and bring them to the clubhouse.”  

Phil looked uneasy. 

“I’ll let Gemma know too.” He let out a sigh as Kerry chuckled. 

“It would be on me. Gemma wouldn’t yell at you, Phil.”  Kerry said giving his shoulder a pat as she and Ratboy left the hospital. 

Abel and Thomas’s nanny had been there and she looked exhausted as well as two men from Rogue River who had been called in. 

“Take a some time and relax. I’ll call you tomorrow with an update.”  

Kerry took to packing some overnight supplies for the boys as Abel stayed close. 

“Is mommy ok?” He asked his voice quivering. 

Kerry kneeled in front of the little boy and nodded. 

“Her hand is hurt but your mommy is ok. She is so brave and just needs to be in the hospital for a few days while other doctors help her hand.”  

Once they returned to the clubhouse Kerry looked at the contents of the fridge and sent Rat to pick up some food. Kerry called Gemma to let her know that the boys were with her and when the call went to voicemail. A few hours later Gemma arrives with dark glasses and a hat. Abel and Thomas were napping and Gemma went to the kitchen to ice her face. 

“I’m fine. This is part of being an Old Lady.” Gemma muttered as Kerry frowned. “Happy would send you away before doing this.” Gemma said squeezing her hand. “That junkie whore Wendy is back and came by to see Tara. She was doing ok and hurt her hand again, hurt herself. I’m going back to check on her soon. This is the best place for you to be now, here with the boys. I’ll let Jax know.”  

Gemma was gone as quickly as she arrived and Kerry went back to check on the boys. Abel was awake and looking for lunch. Once getting him settled with a grilled cheese Kerry heard the sound of bikes. 

“I hope it’s daddy.”  

“Come on, let’s go check on Thomas.”  Kerry said having a bad feeling as sober faces came into the clubhouse. Abel ran to Jax who scooped him him and gave Kerry a forced smile. 

“Thank you for getting them.”  

“Kerry said we should check on Thomas. He was sleeping.”  Jax put down his older son who pulled him back towards the dorms as Kerry spotted the other Sons. 

“Where is Koz?” She said looking around at their somber faces. 

“He’s gone lass.” Chibs said and pulled her into a hug as tears started to fall. Juice who was standing close by walked away as Chibs helped Kerry to a chair and sat with her as she cried. 

“Hap will be back soon. He left this morning.”  Tig took a spot on her other side giving her hand a squeeze. 

“How?” She muttered. 

“A mine.” Chibs said as Kerry sighed. 

“He was going to go back to Tacoma, did you know that? Wanted to give it a go with some girl he used to date there.”  She said sadly. 

Tig got up and went to get a bottle of whiskey pouring a few glasses and bringing them back. 

After a few glasses Kerry made her way back to Happy’s room with Kasey who has been close to her side. She woke up in the middle of the night to Happy stumbling through the door trying to pull off his boots. Kerry quickly got up helping him undress as his lips found hers in a kiss. 

“I don’t want to think about what happened.” He said pushing her back onto the bed. 

“Me either.” Kerry said breathlessly as Happy climbed on top of her. 

Everything was raw and frantic and after round one they laid in each others arms for a short while before round two. 

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Somewhere on Your Road Tonight (ch. 11)

Sara and Leonard made a life for themselves, together in 1958, after the Waverider left them, Ray and Kendra behind. But now they're back on the ship, Mick has been twisted into Chronos, Kendra is pregnant, and Savage is still out there. They'll deal--together. (Sequel to "Chances Are.")

Sorry these chapters took so long! I got distracted. This chapter and Ch. 12 (which I'll post later this week) deal with the events in the episode "River of Time." Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta.

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

Mick has always, for nearly as long as Leonard’s known him, had a sixth sense about the nearest place to find alcohol.

And trouble. Or both.

Usually both.

In some ways, it’s almost reassuring that he retained that ability through his time as Chronos, and even now, back on the Waverider. Especially as Leonard is willing to admit, for once, that he could really use a drink.

And his friend comes through.

“Mission... almost accomplished,” Mick mutters as he saunters out of Rip’s office, toward the others on the bridge, taking a swig right from an old-looking bottle.

“That bottle of Scotch was given to me by Rob Roy MacGregor in 1689,” Rip tell him, but there’s more resignation than anger or even annoyance in his voice. The captain has been...off, even more so than usual, since the events in Savage’s London. The heartbreak and disappointment of having Savage’s defeat—and presumably the salvation of his family--right there in front of him, and then snatched away, are more than enough explanation, Leonard figures...but he still has an odd feeling it’s more than that.

“It's not half bad,” Mick allows, extending the bottle to Sara. The scotch is probably significantly better than that—Leonard’s always liked (and recognized) the pricier stuff more than Mick—but he lets that go. They’re all a combination of unsettled, resigned, and restless.

“We should be toasting to Savage’s death,” Sara comments as she takes the bottle. She’s sitting next to Leonard’s jump seat, back against his arm, her hair brushing his shoulder. They’re both uneasy about Savage on the ship, and even the casual contact is a comfort. Len's ceased to find that unusual.

He himself is twitching his foot distractedly, eyes downcast, still thinking. The mysterious disappearance of Kendra’s mace is nagging at him too, but in a different way than it’s nagging at Rip. There’s still something he feels like he should remember.

Sara reaches up and nudges Leonard, handing him the bottle. Not his usual preference, but he accepts it, taking a healthy swig anyway. Kendra, who’s leaning against the holotable next to the quiet Stein, sighs.

“I have no idea what happened,” she says, looking down at her hands as if they hold the answers. “It just...vanished.”

“Not your fault, bird girl,” Mick informs her, his tone almost gentle. “ ‘Less you knew you had the amazing disapppearin’ weapon and didn’t tell us.”

Len snorts, but Kendra smiles.

“Thanks, Mick,” she says, even as she looks down at her hands again. “I thought…I thought it would be over. That we could…”

Her words trail off, but everyone there knows what she means. That she, and Ray, could go back to their son, waiting for them at the Refuge.

Leonard’s not unsympathetic. Far from it. But he’s a little more preoccupied by his own thoughts. He holds the bottle back down to Sara, who takes it.

“As long as he's on board and breathing, Savage is a threat to everyone on this ship,” he says abruptly. “He wants to be here. Why…”

He can feel Sara nod as she takes a drink, then turn her head to glance up at him, but just as he’s chasing down the thought—why does this keep happening?—Raymond and Jax clatter back onto the bridge. And they, unlike the others, actually look happy about something, or at least excited.

“Sorry we're late,” the scientist says in something that at least approaches his usual upbeat manner, holding something up, “but we found something!”

Jax nods too. “We've been running diagnostics on Ray's suit after his battle with Savage's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robot.”

“The telemetry data included a comparative scan of the robot's tech,” Ray picks up, putting said diagnostics on the holotable screen as they watched. Leonard studies them, a trifle annoyed that he doesn’t understand the scientific gobbledygook a little better, then glances at Sara, who’s frowning in that direction too.

“Amazing,” Stein breathes. “This neuromorphic profile is astonishingly futuristic.”

Kendra studies it, looking a little puzzled. “Yeah, it's from 2166,” she says, a questioning tone in her voice.

“Well, that's the thing,” Jax tells them. “It's not.”

“This technology's light years more advanced than anything from 2166,” Ray says excitedly.

“Who cares?” Len snaps, his uneasiness prickling him even more.

But Rip’s eyes have widened now, and he looks like something’s clicked, like Ray and Jax have handed him a gift he didn’t expect. “The Time Masters,” he says, staring at the screen, straightening. Sara gets up too, crossing to the table, taking the bottle with her. “They refused to take action against Savage because he didn't pose a threat to the timeline.”

“But if he comes into possession of future technology...” Stein starts.

“It means he's been engaging in exactly the same manipulation of time that the Time Council was designed to prevent,” Rip finishes, gesturing. His eyes are bright and actually hopeful… and why does this whole conversation unsettle Leonard so? He shrugs uncomfortably, but only Sara notices, turning around to regard him again.

“So now they'll finally sign off on undoing all the damage Savage has done to the world,” she says, looking back around at Rip.

“Last time I checked, the Time Council was at the edge of the timeline,” Mick cuts in gruffly, “and this bucket of bolts can barely hold it together as it is.”

Rip raises his voice, swiping the bottle off the holotable. “Gideon, what's the status of the time drive?”

“Stable, Captain,” the AI says promptly.

The captain beams. That’s really the only word for it. He moves around the room as they watch him. “Plot a course for the Vanishing Point.” He plops down in the captain’s chair, a light in his eyes. “Tonight, Vandal Savage faces justice for his crimes!” And he takes a swig triumphantly.

Somehow, though, Leonard feels more unsettled than ever.

The captain, looking far less disconsolate, leaves the bridge only minutes after that, and Sara guesses that he’s heading to the brig to confront Savage. She briefly considers following him—seems like it might be best to have backup when around Savage, even when he’s captive—but Len gets quickly to his feet too. Sara, twisting around to look at him again, can see the expression on his face, and it’s not happy.

She considers a moment, then follows him, catching up just as he ducks into the room that’s now theirs.

“Hey,” she says quietly as he spins to face her. “What’s eating you?” Then, when there’s no response, “I can tell by the look on your face, Leonard.”

For just a moment, she can see the old sneer, the one she knows he used to put on like a mask when dealing with some of the others, start to cross his face. It’s armor just as much as the chill and the sarcasm are. But it’s Sara here, and Len’s not the man he used to be, and the expression vanishes as soon as it appears. Leonard scrubs a hand over his face, an oddly vulnerable gesture, then looks at her with what almost seems to be pleading in his eyes.

“Sara,” he says after a moment. “Since we got back on the ship. After the 1950s. Has anything seemed…off…to you?”

She stares at him, trying to give the question the due diligence it deserves. But…they’re on a timeship, hunting down an immortal warlord, and off isn’t an easy thing to pin down.

“I…I don’t know,” she tells him cautiously, not wanting to sound skeptical when he’s obviously unsettled about something. “Like, how?” She thinks about it another moment. “You mean, like what you said about Savage wanting to be here? Why do you think that?”

“I followed Hunter when he went down to the brig, right after we got back on the ship in 2166.” Leonard’s frowning at nothing in particular. His eyes flick to hers. “You don’t get the feeling someone’s…pulling our strings? Maybe…maybe even more than one someone?”

“No?” But even as she says it, Sara gets the feeling she’s forgetting something. She doesn’t like it much. “Or…I don’t know? Why…”

Leonard’s turned away, restless. “Why did Mick think I was going to be on the Waverider? Back when it left us in 1958? The Time Masters told him I would be. They were wrong. Because I had…something else urge me out.” He turned back, abruptly. “It’s happened since then, too. Maybe before. I’m not sure.”

Sara tries to puzzle that out. “What’s happened since then? Something…urging you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Leonard’s mouth is a thin line, but his eyes…he’s agitated. Sara takes a step closer and stops, completely at sea over what to do.

The silence hangs over them a few moments more. Then Sara takes a deep breath. “Well, when do you think it happened?”

Another moment, then Len lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Couple times,” he says quietly. “I dunno.”

“And…you think that’s not the only thing going on?”

He feels a little more comfortable with that inquiry; she can tell by the way he shrugs and actually makes eye contact. “Don’t you?” he asks. “There have been so many things that just don’t make sense. Rip thinking he had to kill Per Degaton, even though Gideon told us all that it wouldn’t make any difference—and fuckin’ ignoring the idea of just dealing with the damned virus.”

Sara frowns as she considers that, but he’s continued. “The Pilgrim and how she just sort of… fucked around. Scariest killer the Time Bastards were supposed to have, but she didn’t do much. She coulda cut a few strings here and there…” He holds up two fingers and makes a snipping motion. “…and there’d be no Legends. Instead it was just one mess after another. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

Sara nods slowly. “You told me later…you thought it was strange they’d want to kill young Mick considering everything Chronos did for them…”

Something sparks in his eyes, as if he’s relieved she’s following some of this. “And the Time Masters trying, supposedly, to kill young Rip—even when older Rip told us point-blank it would fuck with the timeline too much. And Cassandra Savage—I’d swear she was set up to look for us. And…”

Sara puts up a hand, though, stopping him. Her head hurts. “I don’t…”

“Hell, even the mace…”

“Leonard, I asked…”

“No.”

Sara stares at him, stunned, but any irritation she feels is swept away in what she sees. Leonard, cool, collected Leonard, has both hands to his head, turning away in pain or confusion.

“Len,” she says urgently, stepping toward him, “what…”

He looks up then, and back at her, eyes almost desperate. “The light,” he says. “When Kendra’s mace vanished. Didn’t it feel like when Rip collected us all? In the beginning? With that Time Master gadget of his?”

Sara blinks. “I guess it did. So you’re suggesting…what? That the Time Masters took the mace? There wasn’t anyone there.”

Leonard looks like he wants to argue, but instead he just shrugs wearily. “Do you have a better idea?”

“No, but…” She reaches out to him. “Let’s get you to the medbay.”

Leonard evades her hand. “I’m not sick.”

“Well, something’s wrong!” Sara snaps back.

“There is, but not with me.” He sounds calmer again. “Sara. Can’t you see it?”

She’s trying, she really is, but it’s like the pieces of the puzzle keep slipping away. Which is sort of an answer in itself, really. She takes a deep breath, then another, and sighs.

“You’re right,” she admits. “But I’m having trouble focusing on it.”

Leonard’s not-quite-a-smile seems almost grateful. “Yeah,” he says, leaning, almost sagging, against the wall. “That seems to be a thing.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Sara sighs, folding her arms and moving a little closer. “I’ll try some meditation techniques I know, see if they help me think a little more clearly about it.” She fixes him with a look. “Later. OK?”

Leonard’s eye roll doesn’t really succeed in being as long-suffering as it’s probably meant to be, because he also looks so damned relieved. “If you think that might help,” he drawls, folding his own arms and lifting his chin. “But I meant what I said earlier, too. Savage wants to be here. And I think we need to know why.” He pauses. “And why does Rip think this will make the Time Bastards act, after everything? He’s just as convinced as he was with that brat Degaton, and for as little reason.”

Sara regards him thoughtfully. He has a point. “Why?”

“No fuckin’ idea.” He shrugs restlessly again, then turns toward the door. “I wanna talk to Mick. See what he remembers of the Time Masters.”

Oh, because that’s going to go well. But Sara doesn’t say it. She just sighs.

“Good luck,” she says quietly to his back. But Leonard’s already stalking down the hallway, taking his discontent with him.

Barely 20 minutes later, Sara’s mostly forgotten what Leonard had been so agitated about, but she has remembered his words about Savage. And she’s followed up on them too, asking Gideon a few semi-pointed questions that the AI is only too pleased to answer.

In fact, she’d almost say that Gideon is unhappy, if that’s even possible, relating that Rip had taken the ship to maximum on the time drive despite her warnings. Sara bites her lip as she heads into the captain’s office, the notion of something she should remember prickling at her as she sees Rip bent over his maps and charts.

“Not to sound like a six-year-old,” she asks, approaching, “but are we there yet?”

The captain doesn’t even look up. “No, the Waverider was severely damaged in Savage's last attack,” he says distractedly—as if she hadn’t been there when it happened.

Sara looks at the screens in the office. She’s no expert, but that amount of red can’t be good. “Yeah, I can tell by the way she's flying.” She turns back. “You sure you're not pushing her too hard?”

Rip regards her with a touch of asperity. “The longer Savage is on board the ship,” he says, “the greater the danger to all of us.”

That, she’s not going to argue with. But… “To us, or your family?” Sara asks calmly, getting the briefest of glances. “I checked with Gideon. Bringing Savage onboard didn't change the timeline, and your family still dies.”

She almost feels bad even saying the words, but Rip won’t look at her. It’s as clear a tell on him as it is on Leonard, and wouldn’t they both hate that idea? “The timeline is always in flux,” he says, looking downward at his charts. “Once we get to the Vanishing Point, all will be well.”

He’s just as convinced as he was with that brat Degaton, and for as little reason. “Is that why you're pushing the ship beyond its limits?”

Now the captain looks up, and there’s a little more irritation in his gaze. “This has been my ship for the last 13 years,” he informs her. “No one knows its limits better than I do. Not even Gideon.” The ship shakes, although he doesn’t seem to realize it. “The Waverider will hold together. I promise you.”

And because fate has a sense of drama, that’s when the ship jolts even harder, circuits exploding, sparks flying. Sara tumbles to the ground, but immediately clambers back to her feet, following Rip as he stumbles out of his office.

“Bollocks,” the captain cries. “Gideon!”

“Time Drive failure, Captain,” the AI tells him. (And she manages not to suggest “I told you so.”) “The mains are offline.”

“What happened?” And there are Jax and Stein. Sara wonders briefly where Len and Mick are, but…they can take care of themselves. She has a feeling there’s something else she needs to be checking on.

“It appears the Time Drive is in need of some repair,” Rip tells him before turning to Sara. “Uh, Miss Lance, if you wouldn't mind going, checking on our guest?”

“On it.”

Gideon’s forthcoming enough with the news of what’s happening with the ship, but she’s also clear that there’s really nothing Leonard can do right now to help. Rip and Jax are working on the time drive, she says, and Savage is accounted for. She doesn’t mention Sara, but Leonard isn’t the sort to worry without reason, and he accepts that she’s fine and probably being more useful than he is.

Mick, as he should have predicted, is rather non-forthcoming about the Time Masters. Leonard tails him to the galley in hopes that he’ll change his mind, but he’s also remembering how Mick had mentioned once that his memories of his time as Chronos are fading quickly. Better, perhaps, not to reinvoke them.

Although distinctly unhelpful.

The replicator’s down, but Mick raids the snacks on hand, grumbling as he does so. Leonard slumps in a chair, still thinking furiously.

Well, even if he can’t pinpoint what’s going on, there’s one thing he’s nearly sure of. Going to the Vanishing Point is a bad idea.

He’s examining that surety, however, when Mick interrupts his thoughts.

“Why are all the snacks in the future sugar-free?” he mumbles around a mouthful of some manner of pastry. Leonard winces at the mess and the crumbs, but it’s not his hill to die on right now.

“So much for progress,” he retorts, drumming his fingers against the counter, then pauses, a thought occurring to him.

“You remember Alexa?” he asks casually.

Maybe too casually. Mick, who knows perfectly well that he never brings up that name without good reason, eyes him.

“Yeah,” he says. “From the security deposit job.” A pause. “What about it?”

Mick may be tone deaf sometimes, but he’s more perceptive than many people give him credit for. Like now, offering Leonard an out by focusing on the job instead of the person. And Len takes it.

“Just had a feeling about that one,” he says slowly, “a sixth sense things would end badly.”

Mick grunts, spraying crumbs and making Leonard sigh. “And they would have, if you hadn't pulled us out of there.” His eyes narrow. “So what?”

“I'm getting the same feeling now.”

Mick’s quiet a long moment, then grunts again. “So…what?” he asks. “You sayin’ we should leave? How we gonna do that?”

Once…maybe. But there’s no way he’ll leave without Sara, and if he’s utterly honest with himself, he doesn’t want to abandon the others, either. Not now.

“No,” he finds himself saying. “But maybe we can convince Rip that’s he making a mistake.”

His friend snorts. “Yeah, well, good luck with that. You got no proof and it’s the only hope he’s got.”

Again, perceptive. Leonard makes an irritated noise, thinking. About Rip’s unreasonable conviction that he’s doing the right thing. About his own similar conviction that…

He stops.

“Mick,” he says slowly, “I know you don’t want to think about it, but…were there ever any stories that the Time Masters had something that could…change time?”

Mick eyes him. Then he grunts again. “Same way anyone can.” He shrugs. “Send a bounty hunter to off someone, time changes. Burn a library down, time changes.”

Leonard decides he doesn’t want to know, but then Mick speaks again.

“Knock one asshole outta power. Time changes. Or...”

“Or put one in power?”

In a strange way, it’s like those words didn’t come out of Leonard's own mouth. He barely thought before he said them, and it’s an odd feeling. But that’s all knocked aside as he realizes what he’d said, and what it could mean.

Mick just grunts and shrugs. “Sure?” He returns to poking at the sugar-free snacks, scowling.

Leonard stares at him. “Like Savage?”

“I guess.”

Mick’s not stupid. And the very fact that he’s not thinking about this more says something, just as much as how the captain keeps insisting that they have to take Savage to the Vanishing Point.

But Leonard, at that moment, thinks it’s all too clear.

Isn’t it?

After a silent moment, he gets up from his seat, weighing options, then heads for the door.

“Where you goin’?” Mick calls after him.

Leonard doesn’t answer. He’s still not sure.

He puts more pieces together as he walks, and the corner of his mind that’s seemed to be lobbying for him to make connections all along is altogether too helpful. But even if he’s right, if he’s anywhere close at all, he’s not sure how those connections will be received.

He’s been weighing a few options, but his footsteps wind up taking him toward the bridge and Rip’s office, and as he draws closer, he hears Sara’s voice there too. It’s both relief and encouragement, and Leonard takes a deep breath as he approaches.

"...that you would sell us out to save your family,” he hears Sara say.

“He's not wrong,” Rip returns, and Leonard could do more with that, he really would, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s on a different mission entirely. “Mr. Jackson...”

But they both look up as Leonard stalks into the office, throws a quick, unhappy smile at Sara, and spins to face the captain.

“The Time Masters are pulling our strings,” he tells the other man. “Aren’t they?”

Rip gapes at him a moment before closing his eyes and sighing. “Mr. Snart,” he says with irritation, “this is really not the time for...”

But Leonard brings both hands down on his desk, a little more forcibly than he’d planned, all the frustration and restlessness of his conflicted thoughts affecting his actions.

“Listen to me, Rip,” he hisses. “We’ve been doing what they want, all along, at least for the most part. We’ve even given Savage the information and the tech he needs...”

“Len...” Sara says warningly, but Rip’s eyes narrow and there’s anger in them, too.

“They tried to kill us all!” he snaps back. “Or have you forgotten that so soon? Have you forgotten about your sister?”

Leonard doesn’t take that bait. “Did they?” he asks in return, leaning forward, willing the other man to listen to him. “Did they really? Or did they just...herd us? Made us keep going? Made us, made you, more desperate? Desperate enough to go to 2166?”

“We captured Savage in 2166!” The captain moves out from behind his desk, facing Leonard, his mouth a thin line and rage and desperation in his eyes. Leonard can see Sara moving carefully around, keeping her distance, although he tries not to wonder whose side she’ll take if it comes to that.

“But we wanted to kill him,” he tells Rip, “and we would have if not for someone, something, taking Kendra’s mace. With, I might add, a Time-Master device like the one you once used to kidnap all of us.”

Sara makes a thoughtful noise then, but Leonard keeps his eyes on Rip. The other man blinks, a furrow appearing between his brows, and for a moment, Leonard thinks he’s gotten through.

But then the moment’s gone.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rip spits back. “Tell me, then, why they simply would have let us all walk away?”

“I dunno, maybe there’s more they want from us,” Leonard fires at him. “Savage got the Atom suit tech, he got information on the Firestorm matrix. Maybe...” He stops. “Of course, that’s what he wants. Kendra.”

He can see Sara nodding. “And he’s trying to provoke someone, maybe into letting him out,” she says quietly. “Rip...”

But Leonard doesn’t get a chance to figure out how Sara knows that. The captain glances at her with dismay in his eyes, but then it’s gone again as he looks back at Leonard.

“Oh, of course,” he mocks. “And why is it that you...” He waves a disparaging hand at Leonard. “...are the one to figure all this out? With the genius-level intellects on this ship? I am trying to do the best I can to save my family and the world, and I’ve been doing that for years.”

Leonard doesn’t take the bait. Again. If they all survive this, he thinks with asperity, he deserves a medal.

In some ways, though, it's a good question, and he hesitates, trying to figure out how best to answer it.

“Something’s different,” he says slowly, as Sara moves to his side, “something’s not what they want, maybe because of what happened back in Harmony Falls...”

But before he can feel the words out, Rip rolls his eyes.

“Or, so now you’re saying you’re the difference?” he asks with asperity. “I hate to disabuse you of the notion of your own importance, Mr. Snart, but that's not the case. I simply needed a thief, one who was...insignificant to the timeline. I could have picked someone else.”

“Now, wait one second,” Sara snaps at him. But Leonard, while grateful for the defense, dives right back in.

“But you didn’t,” he tells the captain. “And, honestly, I’m not sure you could have...but that’s another issue. Thing is, I’m here now, for better or for worse, and I think we’re taking Savage right where he wants to be, with the person he’s been trying to get his hands on for years.” He takes a deep breath, trying to project sincerity. It comes, perhaps, easily than it might have, once. “Please. Rip. Think.”

“He’s right, Rip,” Sara adds. “Just...let’s slow down and try to figure this out. OK?”

For a moment, Leonard thinks Rip’s going to listen. The captain sighs and runs a hand through his hair, learning heavily on his desk. “I...” he starts.

But then there’s the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and Rip pauses. Mick, with the excellent (not) timing Leonard’s always known him for, thunders into the room, glaring at the captain in a way that promises mayhem.

“What the hell did you do to the kid?” he barks. “Just talked to Stein. Jax’s gettin’ old, fast, and he’s gonna die if you don’t figure something the fuck out.”

“Wait...what?” Leonard stares at the captain too, as does Sara. Rip looks, if anything, more resigned as he stares at his desk.

“Intra-something degenerate-something.” Mick restrains himself in a way that shows how he’s changed too, folding his arms instead of reaching out to wrap his hands around Rip’s throat in the way Leonard’s pretty sure he’d like to. “ ‘Cause dickless here sent him into fix the time drive alone.”

“Is that right?” Sara asks the captain, her own tone cold in a way that shows more anger than white-hot fury. “Did you know that would happen?”

Rip gives her a look that’s almost pleading. “He should have been able to finish before the radiation had any adverse effect,” he says, as if to himself, looking back down at the desk. “It was the surge when it came back online. I couldn’t have predicted...”

“Like fuck you couldn’t...” Mick starts.

Sara’s eyes have narrowed. “Savage was right...”

“Stop.”

The other three look at Leonard, but he knows it’s already too late. Just like other times, things are moving on, and the chances of dragging them back to the matter at hand are just about nil. Indeed, Rip’s already shaking his head again, a determined look in his eyes.

“We’re going to the Vanishing Point, Mr. Snart, Ms. Lance, Mr. Rory,” he says, scanning them. “The time drive is rebooting. We will soon be on our way.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m asking for a little faith.”

Leonard lets out a long breath. “Sorry,” he mutters, “fresh out.”

The captain’s already turned away. “Well, if that's how you all feel, none of you is obliged to continue on this voyage with me,” he tosses back over his shoulder. “As I told Martin, the jump ship can make a one-time voyage back to 2016. This mission has always been a voluntary enterprise.”

“Has it, Rip?” Leonard asks before he can stop himself. “Has it really? Starting to think it never was. Not for any of us, including you.”

And with that, he turns and walks away. Sara and Mick go with him.

They’re not far down the hallway, however, when Leonard stops. He turns on his heel and looks at them, and Sara relaxes a little at his expression. This isn’t a man who’s giving up and running. Far from it.

Mick stares at him, then looks at Sara, then looks back at Leonard.

“We’re not actually leaving,” he says. “Right?”

“Right.” Leonard looks back and forth between them too. “You’re both listening to me now. Why?”

Sara gives him a rueful smile. “Guess it just clicked,” she says. “Listening to you try to get through to Rip. I don’t get what’s going on either, but something’s off.”

Mick grunts in agreement. “Something’s weird,” he says. “You’re not completely making sense, but I’d rather listen to you. Rip’s losing it.”

Leonard smiles a little at that, even as he glances back toward the bridge. “The Time Masters know what his strings are, and they’re pulling them hard,” he says. “In fact, I bet they probably tied them there. They let him have...hostages to fortune, despite all their rules, and they’re using that. To make him not think clearly.”

The notion that the Time Masters may have allowed Rip to marry and have a child just to have that hold over him makes Sara’s blood run cold. Not even the League had been quite so...mercenary.

“If I follow what you said before, you’re implying that it’s not just that the Time Masters are protecting Savage’s role in the timeline,” she says, ripping her thoughts away from Rip’s family. “You’re saying they proactively want Savage in power. Why?”

That gets a one-shouldered shrug. “Not sure. Beyond the fact that he would owe them for it. Which might be enough.”

“Who cares about why? How’re we gonna fix it?” Mick wants to know, direct as always. “I don’t want those bastards ever pullin’ my strings again.”

That causes an odd, still look on Leonard’s face, but it’s gone before Sara can comment on it or further analyze it.

“Go keep an eye on Stein and Jax,” he tells Mick after a moment. “I don’t know if anything you learned at the Vanishing Point could help, but if something happens, at least they’d have someone between them and Savage.”

Mick makes an approving noise. “Bet if I fried him, it’d at least fuck up the bastard’s plans a little.”

“Likely,” Leonard tells him drily, but the other man is already headed toward the brig. Len shrugs and turns to Sara.

“Sorry I wasn’t getting it, before,” she says with a sigh, moving closer. “I don’t think I still really do.” She looks up at him, reaching out to lay a hand against his chest, knowing that her smile is a little rueful. “But I trust you.”

She’s sure it’s not her imagination that Leonard relaxes a little more at her words. Then he reaches out and puts a hand over hers, a gesture that’s almost sentimental, by their standards.

“Blame the Time Bastards,” he says. “I am.”

“Oh, I do.” Sara’s expression hardens a moment, then she shakes her head. “I’m going to go see Kendra, tell her what we suspect. She should know. Maybe...maybe she’s picked up something during her time at the Refuge? About the Time Masters.” She studies him. “And you?”

Leonard hesitates for just long enough that she guesses what’s coming. “If you stick with Kendra, would you…ask Raymond to come find me?” he asks finally, and if that’s not already a sign of something off, Sara doesn’t know what is. “I’m going to the brig. Could use back up.”

Sara gives him a look, but then just sighs.

“I was in there before,” she says, moving her hand down to one of the lapels of his jacket and wrapping her fingers around it. “Pretty sure Savage was trying to talk me into a mutiny.”

“Peachy.” Leonard’s smile is wry. “Well, I can’t say I haven’t considered that in the past, but if Savage wants it, it’s probably not a good idea. Still, if I play his games, maybe I can get something out of him.”

“Good idea.” Sara hesitates now, eyes on his. “Be careful. He’s dangerous. And you know I don’t say that casually.”

“Got it.” Leonard gives her one of his lopsided smiles, the ones that make her breath catch so. “You too.”

And then he ducks his head and catches her lips with his, warm and real and insistent, and Sara tightens her grip on his jacket and pulls herself up to deepen the kiss for a long, perfect moment. When they part, they’re breathing heavily, but both smiling, and they move away from each other reluctantly, turning away slowly.

Sara thinks, though, of something before she turns away to go find Kendra. She turns back. “Leonard?”

He turns too, walking backward and watching her.

“If you think the Time Masters want Savage in power,” she asks carefully, “then why do you think they want us to go to the Vanishing Point?”

Leonard studies her a moment. Then he gives her a smile that’s not amused at all.

“I guess I’m wondering,” he said. “Are we delivering Savage to the Time Masters?

“Or are we delivering ourselves?”

[lorettalivingston6911]

Georgia's Own 'Loch Ness Monster' Actually Washes Up On Shore — So What Is It???

I look younger now than when I was in my early 20s

One of the questions skeptics of cryptozoology always ask is, "Why haven't we ever found a DEAD sasquatch, chupacabra, or Loch Ness monster?"

Well, on Friday at the Wolf Island National Wildlife Refuge in Golden Isles, Georgia, something washed up -- but what is it??

Boater Jeff Warren and his son spotted and filmed the carcass, which some think resembles the Altamaha-ha -- a local legend sea creature, similar to the more famous Nessie, which is said to live in the Altamaha River.

Video: This Sea Lion Attack Still Cracks Us Up

Some wildlife experts are already dismissing the sighting as just a decomposing shark or some other sea life, just in an odd position. Some are even calling the sighting a hoax.

As for the body, it wasn't recovered. Hmm...

Ch-ch-check out the footage and decide for yourself (below)!

[Image via Action News Jax.]

you might even get Kim Kardashian's or Paris Hilton's...

from LL Celeb Fueads http://ift.tt/2HQtkn7 via IFTTT

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Chances Are (Ch. 4)

What if Leonard had been stuck in the 1950s with Sara, Ray, and Kendra in season 1? And how the hell did they survive, anyway?

Long chapter! And a warning that it gets a little more adult toward the end.

Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta. And to @pir8grl for following along as well!

Can be read here at AO3 and here at FF.net. Recommended because of length.

In the middle of the night, for the first time in many years, Sara Lance wakes up as the little spoon.

They'd fallen asleep close, but not like this. Len's warm breath—slow and steady; he's still out like a light-- is hitting her ear, and his left arm is thrown over her, the other one curled and pillowing his head. Their legs are tangled together, and it's the most...intimate...way they've slept yet, even though they're both still fully clothed.

Sara lies awake for a while, listening to him breathe, all that restless, fidgety Snart energy tamed, for once, in sleep. She's not entirely sure how they've gotten themselves into this position—literally and figuratively, she thinks with amusement—but she feels...

It's not safe, not precisely, or at least not because of him. She trusts Leonard; he's earned that, but she's the only one she truly relies on for her own safety. Content? Not quite that, either. Their situation is still precarious, and she vehemently doesn’t want to stay in this time, no matter how much they scrape out some measure of satisfaction and peace from time to time. And she's still worried about the others, Martin and Jax and Rip and even Gideon.

She doesn't know what she's feeling. In more ways than one.

She's attracted to Leonard. She can own that. He's a good-looking man, with just the right level of muscle without being brawny, and his eyes are amazing. Their personalities mesh well, too, even though they might, together, be a little too prone to snark. She enjoys his company, their card games and conversations. Even before this, she could say that she'd grown to consider him a friend. (And frankly, the competence and leadership he's shown since this debacle started is damned sexy.)

But is she starting to fall for him?

Lying there, warm and comfortable in the arms of a crook, knowing that they're going to get up tomorrow and keep working like the team they've become, trusting and relying on each other for backup and companionship and hope, she thinks...

Maybe.

The next morning isn't awkward—not quite. Still, there's a touch of...something...in Leonard's eyes when he returns with coffee for them both the next day (having vanished before she'd gotten out of bed again). Something a touch distant, and Sara can't help being a little disappointed by that.

She knows him well enough, though, that it doesn't take long to realize the distance is coming from distraction. He's pouring over something in the paper he'd gotten at the honor box last night, focused in a way she's come to recognize is Snart plotting mode.

She doesn't ask. He'll tell her when he has a plan. Instead, she takes a healthy swig of coffee, clears her throat, and raises her eyebrows in a different question when he glances at her. He reads it correctly.

"We need to hit the road as soon as possible today," he tells her, getting to his feet and stuffing the folded-up paper in his coat pocket. "Need to get to River City."

Sara snickers, grabbing her coat. "Going to go bang on Ray and Kendra's door?"

That gets a smirk. "What do you think?"

Leonard's not sure whether to be pleased or slightly disappointed that Raymond opens the door very nearly ready to go, just a little annoyed at the imperious hammering. Both he and Kendra do look rather tired, though, and Len resists the urge to make a crack at their expense.

So does Sara, who's being careful about such things around Kendra for some reason. She snags shotgun this time as he drives, and the lovebirds sit together in the backseat, where they're almost certainly likely to fall asleep with the hour.

He'd slept well. Extremely well, actually. Of course, he'd also woken up in a...situation...that now has him wondering why Sara hadn't slipped a knife between his ribs for his unconscious temerity.

But she hadn't. And he'd woken up like that...then spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to disentangle himself without waking her and making it clear where his mind had been...and how certain portions of anatomy had been all in for the idea.

On second thought, maybe his ribs weren't where she'd have put that knife.

For quite a while, the car is silent, a contrast to the actual camaraderie of last night. Raymond and Kendra do indeed fall asleep, and a soft snore now and again is the only sound from the backseat. Sara seems lost in thought and Leonard, frankly, has a lot on his mind, too, so he's content to watch the road and go over the checklist in his head as the miles pass.

Eventually, though, he feels Sara’s eyes on him and glances at her briefly, lifting an eyebrow to indicate he’s aware of her gaze.

“So,” she says after a moment, “why the urgency to get to River City?”

Of course she’d noticed that. Leonard considers denying it, but he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t buy it anyway.

So he prevaricates. “Sooner we get there, sooner we can figure something out, move on.”

“Hmm.” No, she’s not buying it, but he can more or less see her deciding whether to pursue the subject.  To his relief, she chooses the latter. “How’s the car handling? Kendra said it should be fine, but she couldn’t guarantee how long.”

“Seems OK. Might have Raymond get it looked at in the city.” He darts her an apologetic look. “Not that I wouldn’t rather you or Kendra do that…”

She finishes the thought for him. “…but we’re women and we’d probably get laughed at or someone would attempt to scam us. And then we’d be obliged to kick his ass. Although that’d be its own reward.”

Leonard snorts in laughter despite himself. “True. Probably not effective, though.”

“Probably not.” Sara sighs. “As much as I hate to admit it, we sort of need to do something else unpleasant and necessary too. Laundry.”

“Ehhhh…” Leonard gives her an apologetic look. “Can you and Kendra handle that? This time, anyway.”

Her expression is resigned, but Sara nods. “Yeah, I figured. We’re getting an iron and you guys are ironing your own shirts, though.”

“Wouldn’t dare to dream otherwise.”

“And what are you going to be doing?”

So they’re back there again. Leonard keeps his eyes on the road. “Research.”

He’s not looking at her. And, OK, granted, he’s driving, but it’s a very pointed sort of not looking at her. And Sara knows Leonard Snart well enough by now to know that lack of eye contact is the most notable tell for discomfort he has.

There’s something he doesn’t want her to know. Or something he doesn’t want to tell her, or both.

Her earlier unease, that he’d have enough of this whole thing and just vanish one day, leaving them to struggle on, flickers back to life. She shoves it away viciously. If he hasn’t done it yet, why now? Especially since they’d just talked about looking out for each other, and the others.

But… “If you’re going to do something, just promise me you’ll tell me first.”

That gets a glance, an odd flicker in his eyes. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

He hesitates, long enough that the unease, paired with anger, starts to resurge. Then: “Promise.”

And she’ll have to be satisfied with that, for now.

They make pretty good time to River City, and Leonard (missing online maps more than ever), with the others helping keep an eye out, eventually manages to find a decent-looking mechanic’s shop just a few doors down from a coin-operated laundromat.

This leads to a group conference, as they pool their money and calculate expenses for the near future. Leonard, counting, shakes his head. They can manage…for now. This isn’t sustainable.

Well, part of the reason they’re here is so they can take steps to start changing that.

So he can.

Unfortunately, perhaps, the others haven’t forgotten that.

They’ve settled on a rough plan that involves Raymond taking the car to the mechanic for a once-over (“Do not agree to anything without consulting Kendra first, Raymond”) while Kendra and Sara do a few loads of laundry, something they’re not precisely thrilled by but agree is necessary.

Leonard merely says that he’ll back soon.

Three sets of eyes regard him with nearly identical expressions.

“So,” Raymond says after a moment “are you here to make a…score?”

How can the man make that sound so cheesy? But there’s no point in denying it. “Leave that to me.” After a moment, he qualifies it. “Not now. But I need to do some…reconnaissance.”

Sara makes a noise of irritation, then, and gets out of the car, grabbing a few of their bags and heading toward the laundromat. Leonard can’t help glancing regretfully after her. But he doesn’t want the rest of them in on this, damnit, and he has his reasons.

Raymond shakes his head. “OK,” he says with a sigh. “I get it. You don’t want us tagging along. But, Snart, we’re all in this together. We’re trusting you. You should trust us, too.”

And then he gets out of the car, grabbing the other bags to carry them in for Sara and Kendra.

Leonard waits, but Kendra, in the backseat, doesn’t move. Instead, she regards him steadily in the rear-view mirror, for so long that he eventually turns around to meet her gaze directly.

“I get it,” she says finally, echoing Raymond’s words, holding up a hand at his expression. “No, really. They might not, but I do. Ray is brilliant, but…well. He’s Ray.” Her lips curve. “I love him, but I’m not blind to his faults, Snart. And Sara…I think you know how stubborn she is.” He snorts at that, and her smiles grows. “And she hates being protected. She went through a lot so she could protect herself.”

“I know that.” He winces at the defensiveness in his voice. “Hell, she could kick my ass. With a hand tied behind her back. But this isn’t the sort a thing where Sara’s MO of being, well, a blunt instrument is going to help. And…”

“And what you’re trying to protect her from isn’t quite what she thinks you’re trying to protect her from.”

Leonard frowns, both at the knowing words and the undercurrent therein. Kendra’s eyes are direct, and a little sad.

“I wasn’t always a barista,” she says quietly. “And sometimes I remember. Running into Savage, back in Harmony Falls…it brought some things back that I’d really rather not have recalled. And while 1950s women’s prisons aren’t as bad as some punishments throughout time—and I’m thinking you and I both know that Sara’s been through worse—that doesn’t mean they don’t have the capacity to break people. Especially if a person’s lost all hope of going…home.”

The words cut to the quick, knowing what he’s done to Mick. And she needs to understand that it’s not that he usually plans on himself, or his people, being caught. “If I had more time…”

But Kendra holds her hand up against his explanation again, and he’s bemused enough at her authoritative attitude that he does quiet, listening to what she has to say.

“I get it,” she says again. “Just…I know we need the money, but don’t think we’d leave you behind either, OK? If something goes wrong? You’ve kept us alive this long; you’re part of this team.”

Leonard’s still digesting that, dealing with an odd and not-wholly-unpleasant feeling of…acceptance, he supposes …when Kendra sighs and leans forward, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Snart…Leonard,” she says after a moment. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but…take care, would you? Please don’t make Ray try to organize a prison break, because you know he would.”

That gets an actual laugh out of him, for the mental image it creates. Leonard tilts his head in acknowledgment, smirking.

“And Sara?” he asks. But while he’d meant for a rather sardonic tone, the question comes out vaguely…plaintive, really.

“Sara?” Kendra smile grows, and suddenly, with a rush of insight, he knows exactly why Sara’s been so careful around her the past day or so.

Oh, crap.

But Kendra doesn’t give him even a fraction of the shit she could. Instead, her smile becomes almost fond.

“Sara…” she muses. “I think Sara would tear down this city, this time, until she got you back. Do you know that?”

Yeah, because I’d do the same for her. But he doesn’t answer, just looks at her steadily.

It’s enough. Kendra nods, once, pulling her hand back.

“Then do what you have to do,” she says. “And thank you. But remember. We need you. Sara needs you.”

Doing laundry while Leonard is off doing god only knowing what is, well, irritating.  Sara scowls at the laundry spinning in a washer while Ray, back from the mechanic, is chattering away and Kendra is very patiently (in Sara’s opinion) asking him questions about what the man said.

She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t notice, at first, that Kendra’s also talking to her.

“What?”

Kendra raises an eyebrow. “You OK?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

The other woman gives her one of those patented looks. “Because you’d rather be out there skulking around with Snart and you’re stuck here instead? Because you’re pissed at him for not talking to you about it?”

Sara refuses to dignify the questions with an answer. Kendra just rolls her eyes and goes back to talking to Ray.

The plan was to stay at the laundromat until a pre-agreed-upon time, then, if Leonard wasn’t back yet, to head down the road to a motel they’d checked out earlier. He’s not, and they do. Ray emerges from the office and hands Sara her own set of keys without comment.

She takes them without comment as well, even though she’d told him to go ahead and get one room. Well, she supposes that he and Kendra want their own space…and even though she’s pissed at Len, she’d still rather curl up with him…

After she tells him off, anyway.

They head next door to a little restaurant to get some food—Ray had scouted it out earlier and reported that it seemed to be safe. But even as they’re being seated, their missing crook strolls in the door, taking off his hat and joining their party without comment, just a charming smile for the young waitress. (Who seems, indeed, to be charmed, considering the way she bats her eyelashes at him.)

Sara gives him a level, unimpressed look. (Which he ignores. Aggressively.) After they’ve ordered and the flirting waitress has delivered their drinks and gone to check on other tables, Ray leans forward across the table and whispers, “So?”

Leonard leans back and takes a sip of his water. “So what, Raymond?”

“So…” Ray casts a slightly confused glance at Sara and Kendra and then looks back at the other man. “Your…reconn...um. What you were doing. How did it go?”

“Went fine.”

“Are you done?”

That just gets him an unimpressed look. (Which Kendra notices is the mirror of Sara’s earlier look, although she doesn’t point it out at the time.) “No. What was the verdict on the car?”

That successfully distracts Ray, mainly because he can extoll Kendra’s virtues in the field of auto repair. Kendra, correcting him and adding information, ignores the elephant in the restaurant too. Sara, who thinks she’s probably being childish but just can’t help it, continues to stare down into her drink and think annoyed thoughts.

After a while, the waitress—Mary, her nametag says--returns with their meals, sliding them across the table with smiles for them all, but especially Leonard.

“You seen all the fancy types in town for the gala?” she asks with barely concealed excitement. “I mean, we get all types here, for Slot Row. But my friend, who works down at the Goldeneye Hotel, she says they been pouring in the past few days, even though it’s not ‘til tonight. And, boy, do they like to tip!”

For a heartbeat, three of the people at the table try very hard not to look at the fourth person at the table.

“We’re just passing through,” Sara says, putting a sincere (she hopes) smile on her face and learning toward the woman, “on the way to Opal City. A gala? That sounds like fun!”

Mary grins back at her. “Doesn’t it? But it’s bigwigs only. Some political thing.”

Kendra, joining in, laughs. “Eww,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Yeah, not our type of party. But, yeah, I bet the tips are great! I remember…”

She continues, spinning a story that Sara is pretty sure is a 1950s-appropriate adaption of a true incident from her CC Jitters days. Soon, they’re bonding over shared food-service experience, and Sara’s decided to…tone down and tweak…a few stories from Verdant and share those too. Ray and Len share glances, the former grinning and the latter inscrutable, and chime in a few observations here and there.

All in all, Sara thinks, she’s pretty sure they’ve successfully kept Mary from connecting the friendly strangers who’d left the nice tip with any…problems…that might occur at the fancy political event down on Slot Row.

She hopes.

"You're going to rob the gala.”

Sara’s voice is matter of fact and absolutely certain. She’s standing in their room, arms folded, watching him with an odd expression—something that’s somehow determined and uncertain at the same time.

There will be no equivocation here. Leonard pauses in studying the two double beds with some regret. (Raymond had told him there were no kings available, sotto voce, on the way back here, obviously looking for a reaction he didn’t get.) He studies Sara instead, at a loss for how to handle this, at a loss to explain why he cares.

“If all goes well,” he confirms eventually, dropping his coat onto a chair, “I'm going to...divert...the proceeds from the event, yes.”

Sara snorts at the euphemism, but he also thinks her shoulders relax, just a little, when he admits it.

“OK,” she says then, “what’s the plan?”

He draws in a breath, then goes for bluntness. And tries to channel the chill he doesn’t usually use, with her. “Nothing you need to know. Better you don’t.”

Sara’s eyes narrow, and there’s steel in them…and a little bit of hurt. “Bullshit,” she hisses. “You need backup. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“You don’t get a say,” he snaps back, losing the chill, spurred to urgency with the need to keep her out of it. “This is my plan. I say what I need.”

Of course—and he should have expected this—his brusqueness just cements the anger and insistence in her eyes. “Seriously? After all…after all we’ve been through on the ship and here, you’re just going to…to freeze me out? I know you get the need for backup; you lit into Rip…”

“This is different.”

Sara takes a step toward him, eyes blazing. “Bullshit,” she repeats. “I’m going with you.”

She can’t. She can’t, and the panic that elicits in him startles him and pulls truth from him, makes him step forward and lower his voice, trying to show her his sincerity, his…fuck..feelings.

“No,” he says again, voice low and intense as Sara stares up at him with furious eyes. “No. I haven't had time, and I don't have the information, to plan this like I usually would. It’s too…sketchy, too sloppy to drag anyone else in, to risk anyone else.”

Sara looks a little startled by the sincerity he’s trying to convey, but she’s too very…Sara…to back down. “I’m not just anyone.”

“No, you’re not.” Too much, too much truth, but he can’t back down. “You’re…I am not leaving someone else behind.”

To Sara, at least, it’s undeniably clear who and what he’s talking about. She blinks up at him, and he can see her mouth the name, but she doesn’t say it, not out loud. For Leonard’s part, he’s startled to realize that he’s nearly shaking with the need to make her understand. Abandoning Mick, that last-ditch shot to save his partner…his friend’s…life had been the worst of plans, thrown together on the spur of the moment when it became clear a nuclear option was necessary.

He’d had no clear idea how he would manage to convince Hunter to go back for Mick after a cool-down period, whether he’d be able to steal the jump ship again, if the team would even tolerate having either one of them back after that. If Mick would ever forgive him.

And now it’s worse. So much worse.

This plan isn’t much better. Sure, he’d been planning as he went today. He has the framework, the bones, of a decent heist. But it’s hasty and so many things could go wrong--no, could go catastrophically wrong. And Leonard knows it. He’s planned too many heists—and suffered through too many poorly planned Lewis heists—not to.

Sara’s still quiet, watching him, and he’s not ready to say all that out loud, whether or not she knows it anyway. So he tries to throw more logic at it.

“Raymond is the most likely person to be able to figure out how to signal the Waverider,” he tells her, taking another step closer. “We can't risk him getting locked up. Kendra...no way in hell I'm going to risk what could happen to her if she was arrested. And the same with you.”

Sara’s chin goes up. “You do realize I've been through worse than prison,” she tells him in return, voice just as low and intense as his.

Leonard takes a breath. “Yes,” he says quietly—thinking about both quiet conversations over cards and the file on Sara he’d looked up on the ship's computer. “I do. I know about the Amazo, and I know it was hell.” He meets her eyes. “Not again.”

There’s surprise there, and her tone softens, a little. “I don't need you to protect me, Leonard.”

That draws a snort from him. “You think I don’t know that?

“I know you do.” She shakes her head. “Damnit, you stupid crook, I’m trying to protect you.”

The words rattle him, a little, more than he shows, more than he thought they would. He’s not used to this.

Lisa had tried, back when she became old enough to realize that he so often took the punishments and blows meant for her. He’d done his best to train her out of that impulse—and for years, wondered if he’d damaged her in a way he’d barely considered at the time. But it’d been necessary.

(And then Lewis had reappeared and tried to hurt her again, to hurt him--and goddamn Barry Allen and his silly team had stepped in. That’s a completely different set of mixed feelings.)

Mick had protected him, way back in juvie, of course. And he won’t think about Mick.

“And I appreciate that,” he tells her instead, trying to show it in his voice. “But you...you three...need me to keep doing my thing so we can survive this. Living out of hotels, ripping people off and moving on...it's not sustainable.” He shakes his head. “I plotted this heist out for one person. And I’m going to do it. You…if the worst happens, keep the other two moving. Give Raymond a chance to figure out how to signal the ship. Then…break me out.”

They both know that’s not the worst that could happen. Sara shakes her head too, as if in denial, but they know he’s right.

“When?” she asks simply.

Leonard glances at the clock. “Maybe…an hour. It’s early yet, but I still have some things to put into place. And I need to be sure that I don’t…can’t…lead them back here.”

Sara draws in a deep breath, holds it a moment, then lets it out. “Then…sit down.” She pulls the deck of cards out of her coat pocket. “Talk to me. Tell me if there’s anything I need to know.” She shakes her head again as he eyes her. “I promise I won’t interfere. But maybe I can help with logistics, anything you’re still working out.”

After a minute, Leonard nods.

“Well,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of one of the beds and watching as Sara shuffles the cards, “whenever someone’s transporting a great deal of money, there’s always a weak point…”

Sara never thought she'd miss the constant access to news so familiar to her native time, but this...this is torture.

She crosses the room again, restless, unable to sleep, although she knows she should on the chance they'll need to move quickly—whether it's all four of them or only three of them. If all goes well, though, they’ll just stay put until the next day; running, as Leonard had noted, is always bound to attract more attention than just looking confused and asking the nice police officer what all the excitement is about.

Sara, who had, after all, spent years as a thief of a sort herself—albeit a thief of lives—understood.

That didn’t mean she had to like it.

Leonard’s been gone for hours now. Which was to be expected, since he’d plotted a very circuitous route to and from Slot Row, along with multiple changes of clothing and personas. This is his business, and he’s very good at it, despite his unease at the lack of time and his usual meticulous level of planning.

She knows that.

But…damn it. Sara sits back down on one of the beds, putting her head in her hands and trying to breathe. To center herself.

She can’t do this without him.

It’s just past 3 a.m. when there’s finally a nearly imperceptible noise at the door. A glance through the peephole and she has it open before he can pop the lock, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him.

“Are you OK?” she demands, taking in the weariness in his eyes, the empty hands, the same navy suit he’d left in. “Leonard. Are you all right? Do we need to leave?”

He holds up a hand, and she takes a breath, steps back, stops the flood of things she wants, needs, to ask. He seems to be in one piece, unharmed at any rate, but there’s a shadow there, something behind his eyes, and she’s not sure what it is.

"I got the entire take,” Leonard says quietly after a moment. “It’s stowed safely; we can get it tomorrow. Should be more than enough for what we need." He shrugs out of the suit coat. “And they got…someone else…for it. So I think we’re clean.”

Sara sighs, letting herself relax a little bit. But he’s standing there in the middle of the room staring down at his jacket like he’s not sure what to do with it, and something’s certainly gone wrong, in some way.

“Good,” she says finally, not entirely sure how to handle a Snart in this mood, but relieved that he’s back safe. “Then…want to help me here? We could push the beds together; I’m pretty sure a double alone wouldn’t be that comfortable for you…”

But there’s a flash in his eyes, then, something complicated and unhappy, and she sees the cold persona settle over his features like a mask, an uncanny transformation right before her eyes. He drops the jacket on to a chair and shrugs, chilly gaze meeting hers for only a moment before sliding away.

“I think I can live without...snuggling...for a night.” And there it is, the harsh, dismissive edge that's been missing from his voice since they've been stuck here, since he's been distracted by the task of keeping them all alive and moving.

It’s like a kick in the stomach, given how much they’ve…given how much she’d thought they’d grown together over the past few days, but Sara’s suddenly too tired herself, body and soul, to call him on it.

“Suit yourself,” she says simply, turning away, exhausted. “Suit yourself.”

She’s tired enough to sleep, although it’s a fitful sleep, a discontented one. Leonard’s changed and stretched out on the other bed, facing away from her without so much as a “goodnight.” Sara, staring at the ceiling during one of her periods of wakefulness, decides that maybe the Leonard she’d seen over the past few days had been the façade.

Now that there’s money, he’ll be gone as soon as possible, shedding the rest of them like an ill-fitting cover story, she thinks. He’ll slip away into the night, into the criminal underbelly of one of the bigger cities, and she’ll be left behind trying to hold them together, to hold on to hope, to…find somewhere she belongs.

There is somewhere, even in 1958. She’s been trying not to think about it. But Nanda Parbat is, at least, a place to go, somewhere she could fit in again.

“No…”

The mutter from the other bed breaks into her unhappy thoughts, and Sara blinks, rolling over to peer through the darkness at the tossing, turning shape across the room.

The next noise is inarticulate, but clearly pained, and she sits up. Maybe she’s still pissed at him, pissed and hurt, but for now, he’s still a member of her team.

“Leonard?” she whispers. “Are you OK?”

“Don’…don’t do it…”

A dream. Rather, a nightmare. Sara’s had too many of those herself to feel anything other than sympathy. She starts to climb to her feet, but before she can do more than that, he makes another one of those wordless noises of pain, louder this time, and starts to thrash around, lashing out at something he’s seeing only in dreams.

“No…!” His next panicked blow sends the lamp crashing from the table, and he flinches at the crash, but doesn’t seem to wake.

They’re not next to Ray and Kendra this time, and if someone calls the cops… Sara hurries over, jumping back as he lashes out again, then climbing onto the too-small bed next to him.

“Stupid, stupid, stubborn crook,” she chants under her breath as she tries to figure out how to help without getting an unintentional blow or freaking him out more. “You should have talked to me. Should’ve helped me push the beds together. We’re…better together, you idiot. Damn it, Leonard. Come back!”

At that point, she just catches his right hand in hers, blocking his blow at an unseen assailant, leaning forward to put her other hand on his shoulder, moving it up after a second to gently cup his jaw. Because whatever he’s seeing in dreams, it’s not gentle, not at all.

And that, against the odds, works. Blue eyes fly open, staring blindly at her, but he stops the thrashing instantly. Instead, he struggles to sit up a little more, shaking his head with agitation before trying to focus on her again.

“Sara,” he says, his voice rough and perplexed.

“Yes.”

“Sara.”

“Yes,” she repeats, keeping her voice as gentle as possible. “I think you were having a nightmare. You were getting really loud and…and a little violent, and I didn’t want anyone to call the cops. You OK?”

But her words draw an immediate recoil from him. “Violent?”

“Yes. No…not to me,” she adds, leaning forward again and catching his shoulder again. “You were just thrashing around and…I was worried.”

Leonard closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath, then another, some of that terrible tension running out of his shoulders. Sara, very gently, very tentatively, starts to knead the muscles on which her hand is resting, moving to sit next to him.

“Sorry,” he mutters again after a minute. “I…”

He's staring off into space again, but Sara isn't about to let it go this time.

“What happened out there?” she asks quietly. “Tell me.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. But it’s eating at him, and he’s pretty sure that Sara, this time, isn’t going to let him pull his usual bullshit of retreating into the ice.

He glances at her. Yeah. Definitely not.

“It was going according to plan,” he says finally, closing his eyes. “I had my mask on; I was waiting at the point where there should have only been two guards, right before they got to the armored car and the others. But...

“There was this pair of dumb-ass kids. Eh, maybe about 20 years old. I heard them before I saw them, and they didn’t see me. Reminded me a bit of me and...me back in the day, but I was never that stupid.” He opens his eyes, staring into the dark, into memory. “You can tell a plan isn't a good one when two idiots like that come up with the same one. Well, a similar one.

“Except their plan wasn’t much more then ‘go in with guns blazing.’ ” Leonard shakes his head. “It would have been a bloodbath.”

Sara’s pulled both her legs up onto the bed, moving a little so she can work on both his shoulders. The touch feels really good, actually. “So what did you do?”

She’s simply assumed he wouldn’t let it stand. Well. She’s not wrong.

“The two guards carried the take out in a bag,” he said after a minute. “Right on schedule. The idiots moved in, guns drawn. So I… shot them.”

Sara’s hands still. “The...idiots?”

“Yes.” His right hand moves up to rub at his left bicep, but he barely realizes it. “Just winged them both, in the upper arm.” He glances back at her. “I know basic anatomy. I kept it as safe as I could, stayed away from arteries, or so I presume.

“Well, they went down, dropped their guns like the rookies they were. The guards pulled their weapons, and dropped the bag—they weren’t the brightest, either--focusing on them, there was a lot of yelling, it was dark…” He shakes his head. “In the chaos, I got the bag. Got out of there, stowed it, changed, and circled back around to see what the buzz was. The press was already out in force and I blended in with them. Even had a notebook in my pocket.”

He snorts. “The story is already that those two just had an accomplice who turned on them. That’s where the investigation is focusing: on another idiot kid. No one saw me clearly, and there were no cameras. So I guess I should be pleased."

Sara’s started rubbing his shoulders again, her fingers brushing the bare skin of his neck and he’s trying not to lean into the touch. “So,” she says quietly, “you probably actually saved lives tonight. Probably more than one guard, maybe even the would-be robbers.”

Leonard hasn’t really thought about it that way. “But…”

“But you know I’m right.” There’s a faint hint of amusement in her voice, and he can’t help smirking a little in return, especially since he thinks that, just maybe, his earlier reflexive coldness has been forgiven.

But she needs to understand.

He pulls away, just a little, then, swallowing, abruptly drags his shirt up and over his head, dropping it onto the bed next to them. Sara watches with a little surprise in her eyes, but doesn’t say anything, even he turns to better show her his bare left bicep…and the deep scar that still cuts across it.

“When I was about that same damned age,” he tells her, “my father shot me. Same spot, more or less, though I’m pretty sure his motives weren’t good. I was a distraction, so he could get away during a heist gone wrong.” He holds himself still, trying not to flinch as she cautiously reaches out to run a fingertip over it, a sensation that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. “The damned thing still gives me problems. Still hurts at night, or when the weather changes.”

He shakes his head. “And I did the same thing to those two stupid kids.”

Sara has mixed feelings, at this moment. She wants to go find the two boneheads that nearly ruined Leonard’s heist, make sure they’re OK (for his sake), and then yell at them until they rethink their life choices.

She wants to go back in time and find Lewis Snart so she can kill him again.

And she wants…

She wants.

She runs her fingers across the vicious scar again, surreptitiously (or not so surreptitiously, really) running her eyes over the half-clothed man sitting in front of her. But this probably isn’t a good time to act on the attraction, not when he’s caught up in guilt and memory, and the last thing she wants to do is scare him off.

“You said it yourself,” she says instead. “It could have been a bloodbath.”

Leonard doesn’t answer, although he does shrug. And he doesn’t argue, either, and she’ll take that, as long as he keeps thinking about what she’s said.

She should go back to her bed. She should…

"C'mere, Len," she sighs instead. "I...I sleep better with you here. And I don't think either one of us should be alone right now."

Leonard regards her steadily. Then he nods, moving to stretch out, catching her wrist to pull her gently down with him

The bed is small, much smaller than they’re used to now, but it doesn’t matter much, because they’re definitely well and truly in each other’s space. Leonard hasn’t bothered putting his shirt back on, and the warmth is radiating off him, striking in a man who usually gloried in such a chilly image, and Sara, lying next to him, only inches apart, glories in it.

Without even thinking about it, she reaches out with the arm that isn't curled up under her head and runs her hand down his back and then up again, palm smoothing over warm skin, callouses catching on the scars she’d just gotten her first look at.

He freezes, at first, and she does too, suddenly wide awake, cursing the drowsy impulse. But then…he slowly moves his own free hand around to rest on her hip, then up under her top, fingers drifting up her back, too, skin on skin, tracing her spine. The spark of electricity this causes makes her shudder, sensation prickling along every nerve, and she stifles a gasp of reaction, arching her back just a little.

Oh.

Oh, this could be dangerous. Or wonderful. Or dangerously wonderful. All three?

Is she ready to go there? Is he?

Well. He's no expert, but from the way Sara's reacting, his touch certainly doesn't seem to be unwelcome. Far from it. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are slightly parted, and she's breathing far more heavily than he'd think a simple caress could account for.

So is he. And his breath catches again as she moves her hand around, trailing her fingers lightly down his bare chest slowly and steadily, bringing her hand to rest right on the waistband of his pajama pants, hooking her fingertips just inside.

And, holy shit, if he hadn’t been hard before (and he’d definitely been on the way there), he sure as hell is now.

Sara follows up on that move by edging a little closer, and he follows suit, until they’re touching just about everywhere, more contact than he’s experienced in a good long time. Leonard, cognizant of his own ragged breathing, makes himself take a deep breath, then another, running his hand down her back again, sensitive fingertips tracing her spine, right down to the base, an area that seems to be particularly…sensitive.

She arches her back, gasping again, bringing her front into even closer contact with his chest and making a noise that seems to mix amusement, desire and frustration.

The first kiss isn't quite a real kiss. More...that their mouths sort of touch as they lie there, arms around each other, as she looks up at him and he tilts his head down to look to her. Her top lip brushes his bottom lip, lingering just a little, and they both hesitate, then move to readjust the angle.

The second kiss is still awkward in its own way, slow and unpracticed, as if they’re still trying to pretend this isn’t what it is. Lips brush, lingering and hesitant, but the angle is still off, and Sara hums to herself, then moves a little, adjusting it again, and darts her tongue between his lips.

Damn.

She tastes like something sweet, something he can’t name, and he just enjoys it for a moment before upping the aggression just a little on his part, snaking his other hand around to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer. And all of a sudden, just that quickly, there’s nothing hesitant about it; they’re devouring each other, making out like they’re never going to have this moment again, an air of desperation about the whole thing.

Somehow, through a combination of his efforts and hers, Sara’s top has become completely unbuttoned, and she pulls back for just a moment to strip it off and fling it elsewhere before surging back to kiss him again, skin pressing to skin. They’re both half-naked now, and her still-silk-clad thigh is moving between his legs, and he’s moved his other hand to curve around her ass, and if those two layers of fabric weren’t there…

It would be the easiest thing in the world to let go and do this.

But. The corner of his mind that hasn’t yet ceded control to other portions of anatomy points out. But.

Leonard is an overthinker. Always has been, always will be. It makes him an excellent planner, an exceptional crook, one who anticipates almost all contingencies (except, one time, a damned speedster) and prepares for them.

It makes him lousy at relationships.

They’re stuck here. They might never get to go home. The realist in him knows it even as he’s been trying to soldier on preparing for the best possible chance of making it there. And beyond all the planning, the pragmatic slog toward Nickel City and a situation where they can safely go to ground for a while, there’s only one bright point in this whole damned mess.

Sara’s here too.

Sara, who gets him on a level he’s not sure anyone else ever has, not even Mick. Sara, who has her darkness too, but understands what it’s like to wonder if you can still reach the light. Sara, who’s every element of brilliant and bad-ass he’s ever been attracted to.

If this goes south, and they fall apart, he’ll be alone here.

Sure, this whole roll in the sheets could just be a friends-with-benefits thing. Maybe it is to her. But deep down, Leonard Snart acknowledges that he’s well and truly falling for Sara Lance, the way he’s only fallen for two other people in his life.

Neither of those times went well.

And the notion that he could ruin her presence in his life, drive her away, by pursuing this terrifies him.

Leonard breaks the kiss, pulling away with a gasp, putting a little space between them and trying to clear his head. Sara, whose fingers had been drifting south, stops her exploration immediately, reaching her right hand up to cup his jaw, eyes concerned.

“Are you OK?” she whispers after a moment. “Talk to me.”

“It’s OK. It’s OK. It’s just…need to slow down…I…” I’m a little more fucked up than I’ve ever told you. “It’s not you. All right? It’s not you.”

She studies him a moment, then nods, pulling back a little herself. But he reaches for her when she makes a move to get up and she subsides back down to his side, reaching out to grab both their discarded shirts and pressing his into his hand.

Leonard takes it but doesn’t move yet to put it on. Sara pillows her head on an arm and watches him steadily in return. There’s no judgement, no anger or even irritation in her eyes, and that make it easier to say what he does next.

“Just…don’t leave,” he says quietly. “Give me time?”

He’s never asked for such a thing in his life.

And on some level, he’s stunned when she whispers “Of course.”