DISCLAIMER: The Legends of Tomorrow
characters are the property of Berlanti Productions, Bonanza Productions, DC
Entertainment, and Warner Brothers Television. The story contents are the
creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2018 by Djinn. This story
is Rated R.
When Others Sleep
By
Djinn
You're
restless. Can't sleep, can't relax enough to read, so you finally settle for
wandering through the ship, listening to it, how it sounds—trying to figure out
if it sounds right. Without Jax on the ship, that's going to be important.
Paying attention will matter. And Gideon, for all she's supposed to be super
smart, doesn't always shout out the most important thing first.
Not
that you're going to tell others you're being all proactive. The last thing you
need is people running to you every time the toilets don't flush.
You
work you way up to the Captain's office and find Sara there. She's kicked back,
feet up on a table, beer in hand. She looks exhausted. Hot, but exhausted.
She
meets your eyes, hers unreadable. "Can't sleep, Rory?"
"Keyed
up."
"Me,
too. I want to sleep but I can't stop my mind."
You
nod. That's the feeling.
"Grab
a beer, Mick. Pull up a chair."
You
opt for just the chair. You've been paying attention to how much you drink. On
the Q.T., because you don't want your new alter-Snart
knowing you were listening to all the "You're an alcoholic" lectures.
But you were listening, and you do drink too much, so you've been cutting back.
"What's eating you, Blondie?"
You
wait for her to scowl or glare or blast back something else sarcastic. You like
the fire inside her, even if sometimes she doesn't.
She's
cold, too. The perfect mix, you think. What you are and what you might like to
be.
She
closes her eyes and murmurs, "We're screwed without Jax. The engines—the
ship..."
"I
can tinker. And Haircut understands how things work. Between us and Gideon,
we'll be okay."
She
opens her eyes. "For real?"
"Yeah,
for real. You think it's easy doing maintenance on a heat gun? I know more than
you think. I know you've decided I'm stupid and all—"
"I
never said you were stupid." She sighs. "Or maybe I did, but if so,
I'm sorry. Especially if you can keep the ship running."
"Piece
of cake." You're not so sure of that, but she seems to need you to say it
so you say it with the most self-assured bullshit attitude you can.
She
slips her legs off the desk and sits up, leaning toward you, studying you.
"Why aren't you drinking?"
"Not
thirsty."
"Quenching
thirst isn't really what beer is for."
"Not
in the mood to drown my sorrows, either." You're actually not sure what
you're in the mood for. "It's weird without them."
She
doesn't ask who you mean. She just nods and says, "I know. I miss Stein's
wisdom."
You
never found all that much wisdom in the shit the old coot said, but you know
better than to say it. Besides, he tried to help you when you were seeing
imaginary Snart. So you nod,
to show support if not agreement. She's your captain, after all, and you're
loyal—
Shit,
you're loyal to her. The same way you were to Snart
before he went and marooned you.
Why
can't you just be loyal to yourself? Why do you always have to latch on to
someone, to protect them and want to take care of them?
She
sighs. "It's weird having Leonard—Leo back too."
"You
can say that again." You study her, the way she's jiggling her leg.
"You liked the old Leonard."
"He
was part of the team."
"No.
You like-liked him."
She
starts to laugh. "This is not some junior-high bathroom where we smoke and
tell each other our secret crushes."
"Is
that what girls do in there? You always take forever." Junior high isn't
your favorite memory so you move on. "You know, he liked you too.
Like-liked, I mean."
"Yeah.
I think he did." She closes her eyes and you get to really look at her,
taking apart the things that make her Sara and not just the kick-ass woman
you've decided to follow. "Now Leo's got a guy waiting for him back on
Earth-X."
"Maybe
he's like you. Plays both sides." You lean forward, trying to figure out
what she's thinking.
"Even
if he does, that doesn't mean he'd cheat on Ray. I have a feeling he prefers
guys." She grins in a evil way. "He talks
about his Mickey with a lot of emotion."
"Don't
even go there." Although if that version of you got killed saving pigs,
then maybe you were different in other ways, too? You decide to refocus the
subject. "So you prefer women over men?"
"Yeah,
usually. They're softer. Do a lot of the emotional heavy lifting so I don't
have to. Make me..." She shakes her head. "It's hard to
explain."
"Not
really. I mean, I dig chicks. I get it."
She
laughs. "So poetic. And enlightened." She rolls her eyes.
"Chicks? Really?"
"You're
a canary, Blondie. You were a chick before you were a bird." You laugh and
are surprised when she does too.
Then
she throws back her beer. "You wanna spar? Work
off some energy."
"There
are other ways..."
"We're
going to pretend you didn't say that. Come on, Rory. Let's get violent."
"Fine,
if the other option's off the table."
"It's
off the table." She leads you down to the corridor you've designated a
training area and grabs a stick before tossing you one, too. "It's off the
table but I didn't knock it onto the floor." She's laughing and you
imagine this might have been what she looked like before she got on that boat
with Robin Hood and changed from a troublemaking girl to this bad-ass woman in
front of you.
She
doubles down on that by knocking your legs out from under you. Luckily, the
mats are extra thick because she's always doing this to you. You think it's a
message as much as just a smart opening move. She's the one in charge—like
you'd ever doubt that?
"Not
on the floor?" You ask as you roll and get out of the way of her next
blow. "Meaning what? It's in a secret drawer?"
She
laughs. "Something like that."
"So there's a chance?"
"Miniscule,
Mick. Microscopic. Nanite sized."
This
time you swipe her legs out, and she has that pissed-off look that's also full
of respect. It's hard to take her down.
"You've
been hanging around Haircut too long, Captain. Now, are we gonna
really fight or what?"
She
wipes the floor with you after that, but only once you give as good as you get
for as long as you can. As she holds her hand out to you to help you up, she
says, "It's good to let go."
"It
is." You so rarely get to during these quieter times on the ship. This
feels right, to trade blows with her, to grunt and sweat and know that you're
not going to really hurt her.
As
she turns, you stop her. "We're alike, you know. The others, they're
heroes. They came to do good. We..."
"We
came to make up for bad?"
You
nod. "Even this Snart is good." Annoying as
shit, but a white hat.
"Zari's
not a total hero."
"But
she had a good reason. Her family. Her people. You and me, we're just..."
"Bad?"
"Yeah."
She
cups your cheek, her eyes gentle. Then she slaps you, harder than necessary but
nowhere near the kind of blow she can deliver if she's angry. "We were
bad. Were, Mick. We're good now.
Goddamn heroes." With a grin, she grabs the sticks and puts
them away, then saunters out with an energy that makes it look like you two
haven't been doing more than jumping jacks.
That
kind of stamina—damn, she must be good in bed.
##
You're
watching her, watching as she tries to hide the limp, as she reaches for
something and winces. She pretends it's all good as she pours out celebratory
drinks.
The
captain makes the toast first—gets to drink first—but gets looked at in the med
bay last.
You
think that's bullshit, but you're not about to tell her that. Not when she's so
hell bent on being a leader.
The
way you figure it, a person either is or isn't. You never have been and don't
plan on starting, but Sara just is. She never probably wanted to be, always
looked up to her older sister—you can hear that in her voice when she mentions
Laurel. How much better she thinks her sister was than she is.
You
see Snart watching her, not in the way your Snart did, in the way that said he was interested, that he
was falling for her hard and fast and without a word to you. But you knew him
too well not to see it happening. This Snart—Leo—is
assessing.
Judging.
You've
had it up to here with being judged by someone who has no idea what you've all
been through. So you get up, manage to bang into him
hard enough to make him almost drop his beer, and walk over to Sara. "Time
to let Gideon take a look at that leg, Captain." You say it softly, so
only she—and probably Gideon—can hear.
"I'm
fine."
"Unless
you want Leo to take you down to the med bay, I suggest you get going."
You're curious. Does she want this Snart to be
interested in her? Way she tells it, she has someone she loves back in their
own time, but that doesn't stop her from hitting whatever catches her eye. Does
she think Leo will be the same way?
"Why
would I want him to take me?" She runs the words together fast and low,
and you almost laugh because it's the way kids talk when they don't want anyone
else to figure out what they're talking about.
"Beats
me, but there's no accounting for taste."
"Okay,
Mick." She's talking loud now and very clearly. "Let's get that
shoulder of yours checked out." She tosses a carefully lighthearted grin
at the team as she pushes you to get you going.
"Is
Mick hurt?" Leo looks confused, but not concerned. More like he's
wondering how he missed you being hurt.
"Old
war injury," you and Sara say at the same time, and she gives Leo the fake
smile that your Snart would know means nothing.
This
one doesn't seem to get it yet. If you were his friend, you'd tell him to look
at Sara's eyes if he wants to know how she feels. Look deep though, because you
have to go through layers of steel before you can see the pain.
You
know because you see the same thing when you look in the mirror.
Once
you're out of the main area, she drops the act and even leans on you.
"Shit, this hurts."
"You
don't have to pretend. They'd hold the celebrating till after you get patched
up."
"I
once saw R'as al Ghul eat a
five-course meal to celebrate the vanquishing of an enemy. He'd been stabbed
multiple times but he did it. The leader sets the tone."
"So the tone is 'Don't get medical help when you need it'?"
You dodge the slap you knew was coming. "Besides, he had that Leprosy Pit
to fix him right up."
She
laughs. "Lazarus."
"Whatever."
You know it's Lazarus. You even know who Lazarus was. You just want to hear her
laugh because it's rare, and you think she sounds so young when she does it.
It's
easy to make people think you're dumber than you are. You'll never be a
brainiac like Pretty or Haircut, but you're not stupid. Nobody stupid could
have survived your dad after the war. Or kept up with Snart.
She's
leaning heavier. "And by the way, Leo has appointed himself my analyst.
He's not interested in me."
"Yeah,
he's offered me the couch, too."
She
lifts her eyebrows and makes a "boom chicka wow wow" sound.
"Not
like that."
"Did
you two ever?"
"No."
He was more than some physical thing. He was your friend—and your partner—and
you've had few of either. And as far as you know, you don't swing that way.
Chicks have always been your thing. "When did you realize you liked
girls?"
"When
I was a kid I had some friends and we used to practice
kissing. For boys, the way girls do. But I just liked the kissing part. I
didn't care what it was for. Once I got older though, I think I pushed that
part of me down. Went for boys. It wasn't till Nyssa found me—remade me into
what I am now—that I could love a woman that way. And it was after I left her
that I understood I don't have to pick."
"Whatever
catches your fancy?"
"Yep."
She lets you ease her into the chair and get the auto-doc thing going.
"What about you? No great love?"
"Not
much about me to love." You meet her eyes. "I mean physically I'm a
god."
She
grins.
"But
I'm the dumb guy who likes to play with matches. What girl falls for
that?"
"Why
fire?"
"Why
not fire?"
She
crosses her arms behind her head as the machine works. "Controlling fire must
be a rush. I mean, it's not logical, the way it blazes up, twists and
turns."
"Oh,
it's very logical. If you understand it. And understand what other things do to
it—enhance, suppress, divert."
"You
ever consider being a firefighter? Or an arson investigator? Something a little
less...deadly?"
You
wait for the note of disgust to show up. You've killed people. You've burned
them.
But
you're talking to an assassin. Maybe that judgment's never going to come?
She'll rip you a new one for disloyalty, but a past littered with bodies isn't
going to get the same rise out of her that it would out of Zari or Amaya.
Amaya
who didn't choose you. Zari, who seems to already be choosing Haircut. You
don't feel all that bad about it. Not the way you did when Amaya and Nate got
together. She'd made you feel things you didn't understand. Now you think it
was just her support, making you feel like a human instead of some jerk the
team allowed to work with them. She saw you, not the criminal. Which was
ironic, since at the beginning she could only see the bad guy.
"Maybe
when I retire from all this time-travel fun, I'll become an investigator—keep
the world safe from people like me." Except you don't expect to retire.
You expect to go out like your Snart or Stein did. On
a mission, saving the others.
That's
how you want to go out anyway. You want to make something good out of this life
you've never done enough with. It's occurred to you that you've traded your
obsession with fire for this new one of making a difference. Of being a better
man.
The
old you would have punched anyone who told him he could be a better man, much less would want to be one.
"Mick?"
She's standing over you and you realize you didn't even know she was done in
the chair. "Are you hurt? I'm not the only one who tends to be
stoic."
"Nyah, I'm all right."
She
stands for a moment, closer than you expect, not close enough to mean anything,
though. She studies you and you wonder what she sees when she looks at you.
"I'm
gonna turn in. Good night."
"Good
night, Sara." You watch her walk out, no limp, but no devil-may-care
sashay either. She's tired and you want to follow her and hold her and—
Shit.
Shit,
shit, shit.
Because
you know you're nothing she wants. Not that way—sympathy does not equal anything
more. Shared backgrounds do not mean you get to think about holding her
or...other things.
But
you are thinking about those things. You've been thinking about them for a
while now.
You
should get in the med chair and have your head examined.
##
It's
a nice night in Star City and you follow Sara as if it's totally normal for you
guys to be policing the city instead of Robin Hood. Sara's dressed in black and
you're in what you usually wear. It's not like she told you to come along and
wear some lame matching outfit.
In
fact, she told you not to come.
But
listening isn't your strong suit when someone needs a friend to have their
back.
"So you're ex-boyfriend calls and you come running? I'm
trying to figure out how he got a message to you."
"Actually my dad did. After Rip 'forgot' to tell me my sister
was killed, I put a communication mechanism in place. If my family or friends
need me, I want to know about it."
"Smart.
Guess that's why you're the captain." You take a deep breath. "So I did some googling since you wouldn't tell me jack about
this mission. Queen's in deep shit."
"It's
not a mission. It's a favor. You aren't even supposed to be here."
"Yeah,
we've been over that. Besides, you think I wanted to be on the ship? Leo's
really starting to give me the creeps, the way he watches me."
"He
watches me, too."
"I
know." You're not sure which is more annoying. "So
don't try to change the subject. Your guy's in hot water."
"Maybe.
He's lucky normally. He'll come out okay." She stops and you stand, not
talking, knowing the look of a person who's heard something but can't figure
out from where.
"Thank
you," comes from the shadows just ahead.
She
smiles, and the expression is open and easy, and you realize she's never, ever
given you that smile. Then again, you're not sure she's given anyone on the
team that smile. This guy and her have the kind of history that cements.
He
steps out, dressed in his Arrow gear—what's the point of you being here if he's
going to strut around in costume? So you say,
"Thought you had the heat on you?"
"I
do." He doesn't even look at you when he answers.
"Thought
you needed us to do some clean-up because you can't play Robin Hood."
"I
do."
"Then
shouldn't you not be playing dress-up?" You wait for them to get that
finally there may be someone with a dimmer grasp on how to not get caught than
you. But he and Sara aren't taking the bait.
He
does turn to you, his jaw set. "And Robin Hood's not my name." His
tone is tight; you've pissed him off. Or maybe you being with his ex pisses him
off. Either way, you're fine with it.
"Fine,
sorry, pretty boy." You know you're smirking, and you let your lip go up
just a little bit more, to really piss him off.
"Don't
much like that one either."
"Good,
because half of it's already in use. Look, do you two need some private time or
are we gonna work?"
Queen
looks at Sara. "You brought him why?"
"He
sort of... It's a long story. But I trust him. He's
good at my back."
You
resist saying you'd be good at her front, too. You want to, but you think both
of them will smack you down if you do.
He
briefs you quickly. You tune out most of it except thugs, drugs, stop, and
piers. There's a good bar near the piers. Maybe she'll let you go there on the
way back.
"Thank
you again, Sara." He looks at you. "Let her down, and I will find you
and kill you."
"I
didn't come all this way to let her down, Queen." You keep the sarcasm out
of your voice this time. You want him to see you can be serious when it
matters.
When
a friend's life is on the line.
He
looks puzzled, as if he expected some sass. So you
just wait, staring but not so intently he'll get riled because you'd prefer to
save your energy for the people you're supposed to be fighting now that you've
finally got some marching orders.
Besides,
Sara will probably be pissed if you muss up her ex.
And
you don't want to see her not be pissed if her ex musses you up. You want to
believe she'd care.
"Mick,
come on." She's already heading out and you decide not to point out the
piers are halfway across town and you're walking around like the vigilantes the
pigs are looking for.
Do
these people not use cars?
But
then she's pulling out a key that Queen must have palmed her, and slipping her
leg over a bike parked on a side street. "Hop on."
"I'm
not riding in back."
"Well,
you're not riding on the handlebars, Rory. Be a man, let a girl drive."
She's grinning in the way you love, the same way she did when she drank you
under the bar—or at least passed out on the bar—in Salvation. And you can't
resist that grin.
So you get on behind her and you're fine
until she guns it and you have to really hold on. She laughs and you say,
"Real funny," in her ear, and she pats your hand like she's almost
sorry.
She
drives like a frickin' maniac and you get to the
piers in record time. You get off the bike the same way you used to get off a
really good roller coaster. A little off balance but buzzed on adrenaline.
"So what's the plan?" you ask as you follow her onto a
roof.
"Wait
for the bad guys. Round up the bad guys. Get information. Leave the bad guys
for police." She pulls out a small phone Robin Hood must have given her at
same time as the bike keys. "Let police know they're there. Dispose of
phone."
"Then
go to Sally's." You're waiting for her to squash the idea but instead her
face lights up.
"I
love Sally's." She's studying you. "How...?"
"The
place had a reputation. When I was younger, I liked to go in there and sort
of...make my mark."
"So you what? Walked up to the biggest guy and punched
him?"
"There's
a reason that's a classic." You smile when she laughs. "It was arm
wrestling night. I won."
"I
used to rock at that. No one ever saw me coming."
"Oh,
they saw you. They just didn't know what they were seeing. No one could miss
you."
"Was
that a compliment?" She peers over the roof, as if she's not all that
concerned whether you were saying something nice about her or not.
"Yeah.
It was. You're blonde and hot and...you've got this
attitude going on." You realize you're gushing and you shut it. Gotta preserve the mystery.
Especially
when you know you don't stand a chance with her.
"All
looks and balls, huh?" She sounds off, like you hurt her with what you
said.
"That's
the surface, Sara. You gotta get to know you to see
the heart."
She
turns and studies you, finally smiles slowly. "That was poetic."
"I'm
a poet and I don't know it." You know you're grinning like an idiot but
you're having fun with her and you don't care if it leaves you open and...vulnerable. Eager and silly and all the things that you've
spent a lifetime not being.
"Roses
are red, violets are blue—"
"They're
purple. The person that wrote that was colorblind."
She
laughs again. "Nothing rhymes with purple."
"That
doesn't mean it's okay. Anyway, go on with your poetry attempt."
"Roses
are red, violets are blue, you're a big softie, so joke's on you."
"Joke's
always on me, sister." You move up and look over the roof. "Were they
supposed to show tonight?"
"Eventually.
You got somewhere else to be?"
"Nope."
You get comfortable and play with your gun, flicking the safety on and off. You
should have brought some cards, but that was Snart's
thing, not yours.
"Someone's
here," she says, waving you over. "There's supposed to be six of them
total."
"Three
to one. Sounds about right."
"Okay
on my mark—"
A
screaming cry came out of the alley. Suddenly three leather-clad people are taking
on the bad guys. Is one of them wearing a hockey mask? Dumbest uniform ever.
"This part of the plan, boss?"
"It's
not." She cocks her head. "I think we did not get the whole
story."
"Shocker."
You frown. "Are we supposed to do something?"
She
pulls out her own phone and calls up a listing that lacks a picture. "Uh,
Ollie, there's another team here. Your
team. Did you forget to tell them to take the night off?" She listens for
a second, then says, "Ohhhh. And you didn't
think you should mention that?" She rolls her eyes, and you smile because
it's the thing friends do when other friends are being rock-solid stupid.
"Yeah, fine, we'll interrogate once they're gone. Next time, we get the
full story before deploying." She clicks off the call like maybe he was
still talking.
"So...?"
"So his team may be half as big. Newbies went out on their
own."
So Robin Hood can't hold a team
together—that makes you feel way too good. "They're doing okay out
there." You sigh because them doing okay means you're sitting on a roof
without getting your violence on. "How much longer you think it'll
be?"
She
shrugs the way she does when she's super pissed but doesn't want to talk about
it yet.
"I
know this may seem weird coming from me, but your ex's communication skills
could use some work."
"Yep."
You
could go on, but her voice has that tight sound that means she really needs to
punch something. "You wanna go teach the newbies
a lesson?"
"Yes."
She pulls you back down as you start to get up. "But we can't. They're still
white hats, just unaffiliated."
"Free
agents."
"Yeah,
that's what unaffiliated means."
"I
know." You were just clarifying for fuck's sake.
As
you watch, the woman with the crazy yell gets on a phone and suddenly there are
sirens on their way.
"So when exactly were we supposed to talk to the bad
guys?"
Sara's
back on the phone. "Cops are coming, Ollie. Something else you forgot to
tell us?"
Us.
You love that.
"Oh,
she's a cop. A high ranking one who's called in the cavalry before we could ask
any questions. Yeah, we're done here, Ollie—next time get your shit together
before you call. I'll text you where we leave the bike."
We.
You love that even more.
"Come
on." She's so ticked off you don't question who's driving. If possible,
it's a scarier ride than the one to the piers, and when you finally stop, it's
not in front of Sally's but out of town, in front of a place called
"Jeremiah's." She leans back against you, and you keep your arms
around her even though you don't need to anymore. "They don't like me
here, Mick. You don't have to come in."
"There
gonna be fighting?"
"Count
on it."
"I'm
in." You let her go and slip off the bike, then follow her into the bar.
It's
not that they don't like her. They freakin' hate her.
The bartender grabs a bat. Three men come at her with pool cues. Guys from five
tables are up before you've barely taken five steps in. "What the hell did
you do to them?"
"Danced
with their women."
You
start to laugh. Because of course she did. And then you let go and take on the
closest guy and it feels good to finally let go, to not care who you hit or how
hard. And as you fight, you keep an eye on her, remembering how Snart used to get on your case for being obsessed with fire
and violence. Not anymore. You're here to fight, sure. But you're mostly here
for her.
Not
that she needs much back-up. She's amazing in action. It's like dancing almost
and you could watch her fight forever and be a happy man.
Once
she's worked out her aggression, she pulls the nearest girl to her, kisses her
soundly, then says, "Till next time, kids."
"Gun,"
you say, as you push her out the door and a hole opens
up in the wall next to your shoulder.
"Let's
go." She grabs your hand and you run, laughing, to the bike. She pulls out
like a maniac—but not until you're settled against her. There's always control
in her wildness, just like there was with Snart.
You
ride a long time, and this time she takes it slow and drives the country roads
before heading to the city, and you realize she's leaning against you harder
than before. That this time you're riding together, not just her giving you a
lift. She finally pulls over somewhere downtown and stares up at a building
that looks completely ordinary.
"That's
where I died. Up on the roof. I fell and landed there." She points and you
rest your chin on her shoulder and sigh. "Sometimes I think I should have
stayed dead."
You
realize this voice, this emotion, isn't the kind you ever hear on the ship.
"I don't think so. I wouldn't want to miss out on meeting you."
"If
I hadn't come back the first time, there would have been no Canary for Laurel
to want to become. If I hadn't come back the second time, I wouldn't have been
killed, and she would have stayed a lawyer."
"What
would you have done if you hadn't come back? Stayed an assassin?"
She
nodded. "Stayed with the woman I love. Killed with a light heart.
Belonged. Followed."
"People
like us, we don't belong a whole lot of places."
"But
there, at Nanda Parbat, everyone was like us, Mick. I didn't want to come back.
When we were stuck in the fifties. It was easy being there again."
You
tighten your hold, not to cop a feel, but because you think she needs to know
you're there, that she's not alone, that she belongs to the team and to...to
you.
"Let's
go home, Mick." She calls the jump-ship, texts Robin Hood the address
they're dropping the bike at, leaves the keys in a hidden compartment you
didn't even notice, and sends the jump-ship back the the
Waverider.
She's
sitting quietly, and it's like she's drawn a bubble around her.
You
let her have silence like she seems to want, but just before you dock, you say,
"If that place makes you sad, don't go back there."
"I'm
not sad."
"Bull."
"I'm
serious. I'm tired, Mick. Tired of being the leader. I lost...I lost Martin.
That's on me."
"No,
that's on Martin. He chose his path. We all do. We may follow you willingly,
but we don't follow blindly."
She
glances at you. "Sometimes you make too much sense."
"I
know. It's a gift." And a curse because half the time, no one listens.
She
stands and you see her pull a layer of toughness around her, then more, until
she's the captain again, strutting down the corridor.
And
you realize, as you follow her, that she let you see what she doesn't let the
others get a glimpse of. She let down with you. She let you in.
She
turns, walking backwards. "Thank you for coming."
"No
problem."
"I'm
going to turn in."
"I'm
going to have a beer." In your quarters. Alone. While you think about what
it felt like to have her leaning back against you.
What
it felt like to give her some kind of comfort. You're not very good at it.
Never had to be.
But
for her, you'd try to get better at it.
##
You
wake up in the med bay. Everything hurts, and your head is in some kind of
brace that won't let you look down, and when you try to reach for it, you
realize your hands are in restraints.
Gideon
murmurs, "Please sit still, Mister Rory. I'm alerting Captain Lance that
you're awake."
"What
happened?"
But
Gideon isn't talking, even if she does appear to be giving you a big helping of
painkillers, so you close your eyes and ride the rush. You hear bootsteps—angry
sounding.
"God
damn it, Mick."
"What?"
Did you screw up? Because usually you know when you've done that. All you did
was throw yourself between her and the guy with the big scary gun.
"I
told you to stay back."
You're
still not sure why she's pissed at you. She didn't even see the guy with the
gun. You did. You took action. The way teammates do.
And
it was her. You were sticking close but you were part of her team. It was what
you were supposed to do.
She
looks down and her expression clears a little.
And
that's when you realize you can't feel your legs. "What the hell
happened?"
"Your
legs were blown off. You almost bled out. If Ray didn't have that field medic
glue Martin made us all carry..." She pulls up a chair and sits.
"It
would have been you. You didn't even see him."
"Well,
he's dead now, so..."
You
get a happy little rush at that thought. "You kill him?"
"I
did."
"Thanks."
She
nods, tightly. "Why did you do it?"
"Because
we're teammates, and that's what teammates do." You see her nod, as if
this is the answer she wants. But the drugs are flooding you and you aren't
sure you want to stop there. "And because you're my captain, and I'd
follow you anywhere."
She
smiles.
And
then you go for broke because if she doesn't like hearing it, you can just
pretend you don't remember, that it was the drugs making you goofy and sappy.
"And because it was you. And I care about you. And if you weren't here, I
don't know if I'd want to be."
It's
out, this truth you'd probably never tell her otherwise. And for a moment you
just stare at each other.
But
then she looks away. "I can't be your true north, Mick. I can't be the
reason you stay."
"Because
you don't like me? Or because that's too much responsibility?"
"Not
the first one."
You
nod, because you suppose she might not want to hear she was responsible for
someone staying.
But
you think you'd like to hear that. When the hell have you ever heard that?
You
study her—as much as you can with your head locked up in this brace-thing—and
her eyes are really bright. "You crying?"
She
wipes her eyes. "Don't be stupid." She sniffs in the way people do
when they're pretending not to be crying.
"Yeah
that would be stupid." And then you grin. "Can I get a beer to go
with the drugs Gideon is pumping into me?"
"No,"
both she and Gideon say together.
"Didn't
think so."
She
takes your hand and squeezes gently, but she doesn't say anything and you don't
make her. You just lie there, floating as Gideon works, and you hold her hand.
Your
captain's hand.
The
woman you love's hand.
She
may not love you. You can't tell. But she's feeling something.
You're
not sure what and you don't think it's the time to ask, but you can ask other
questions you want answers to. Questions you can again blame the drugs for if
they don't go over well. "The woman you've got back home. Is she your
future?"
She
shrugs.
And
you like that answer. Because a shrug is just a cop-out way of saying
"No." When people mean yes, they just say it. It's saying no that
gives everyone trouble.
"Can
I see a picture of her?" At her surprised look, you say, "I'm having
legs reconstructed on your account, Blondie. Throw me a bone."
Rolling
her eyes, she asks Gideon to pull up a picture of Nyssa al Ghul.
"Wow."
And shit. You can't compete with that. Maybe she'll let you have a threesome?
"Yeah,
she's beautiful." She lets go of your hand and gets up, pacing, which is a
pain because you can only track her with your eyes when she's in front of the
bed. "I left her. I keep leaving her."
"That's
usually a sign that a thing's not solid." You think about it. "Or
maybe that it was solid for the time it happened but wasn't meant to be
more."
"That
sounded pretty darn introspective, Mick. Multiple syllables even."
"I'm
too high to dumb down my vocab. What about Queen? You and he have
something—it's there, when you're together."
"It's
just shared history. Most of it in hell. Besides, he's married."
"Ah,
to Ponytail?"
She
laughs. "Yes."
"That
okay with you?"
"Yeah
it is. I really like her."
"Like-like?"
You smile, imagining that. But then somehow the idea that Queen might get them
both intrudes and you let the thought go. "Kidding."
She
sits back down and leans in, and you know it's because she wants you to see her
face. "Why are you asking me all this?"
"Because
I like you."
"Like-like?"
"Yeah."
"Wow.
Romantic." She's laughing.
"Never
claimed to be. Neither did you. Some things are raw."
"Elemental."
"Right."
You wish you could reach out for her, brush back her hair, feel how soft her
skin must be. "It's okay though, if you don't want that. You don't have to
feel responsible for me."
"No?"
"No.
I'm gonna feel what I'm gonna
feel no matter what you do. And I'm used to it. Being alone." Shit. That
sounded pathetic. You're definitely blaming that on the drugs.
"You're
not alone, Mick."
"I
know. You're here. So whatever happens, we're a
team." Partners, you want to say, to make it more, but that's putting too
much on her. She's never asked for you to make her that important to you.
She
leans in, her lips on yours, soft, sweet. Not romantic exactly. Not just a
friend, though, either. "You're not alone. Now sleep. Gideon..."
"Done,
Captain."
And
there's another push of drugs and you let go and float off into darkness
feeling her hand on yours.
##
You're
sitting against the wall of a cave as rain falls and lightning blasts the sky.
Sara and Amaya are out at the entrance, waiting for the sky to clear but you
told them it was going to be a while.
Do
they listen? Of course not. Chicks.
You
can feel the ozone. Lightning is related to fire in some way. Not that your
fire obsession is a metahuman thing, it's not inside you like Firestorm's was.
But you're attuned to it.
You
think the team would pass out if they heard you use the word
"attuned." Some days you think you may have gone too far with the
stupid thing.
You
hear steps, Sara's cadence, and she rounds the corner and walks over, sitting
next to you even though there's an entire cave to choose from. Some parts are
darker than others but plenty are lit up from the entrance, but still she
plants herself right next to you.
"Rains
blowing in," she says. "I think Amaya must have channeled an otter or
seal 'cause she's digging it." She yawns, and you know it's because she's
been up with a sick Ray in the med bay.
You
think she doesn't need to be such a mother hen when Gideon pretty much works on
her own, but since Stein, she doesn't want to lose anyone else. And Haircut is
one of your favorite people so you don't mind. Even if he did go and find the
only virus you guys aren't vaccinated against. "You're tired."
"I
am. I'm dead on my feet."
You
think with anyone else, she'd blow it off with some
"Assassins don't need sleep" bullshit. It makes you warm inside that
she doesn't do that with you.
"Haircut's
okay?"
"Yeah.
But his fever was so high."
"You
didn't say that when I saw you in the kitchen."
"I
didn't want you to worry. Gideon said he was responding and I know you and Ray
are friends."
Friends.
She knows that. That makes you warm too. "You didn't want this to be
another Snart for me?"
"Right."
"Thanks."
"No
problem." She yawns again, the kind that's huge and painful because all
you want to do is close your eyes and sleep the day away. "Screw it. Wake
me up when it stops raining." She slips her jacket off and pulls it over
her as she curls up like a cat with her head in your lap. And just like the
times cats have decided you'd be a great bed, you sit there frozen, afraid to
move, afraid she'll think better of it if you draw any attention to yourself.
And
then she's out—you can tell from the way her breathing changes—and her hair is
wet and making a ring on your favorite jeans, but you just lean back and resist
the urge to stroke her back or reposition her jacket so it covers her better.
You
hear Amaya coming and you hold your finger to your lips before she can say
anything.
Her
eyebrows go way, way up. Then she smiles, and it's a gentle smile, like she's
happy for you, not amused at this. And of anyone who could see this, you're
glad it's her, because you think you could have loved her, but maybe it was
better that she didn't want you, because you're not sure you could see Sara
curling up on anyone else's lap.
Except
your Snart. Or maybe Amaya herself.
"She
was up all night with Ray," she says as she walks over and sits on the
other side of you.
"Yeah."
You don't want to talk. Don't want to wake Sara up.
"She's
a good captain." Amaya leans her head on your shoulder and you're pretty
sure you've died and gone to heaven.
"Wake
you up when it stops raining?" you ask as softly as you can.
"Yes,
please." Then she's out too. You're not sure why she's so beat, but it's
probably more to do with Nate and sex than nursing Ray back to health.
You
imagine what your Snart would have made of this.
Way to go, Mick. I
didn't think you had it in you to land one of these girls, let alone both.
It
makes you smile again and you sit and think about Snart
and choices you've made and choices you haven't. And you think about the woman
curled up on the floor who might actually be yours someday, and the woman who's
not yours but who's cuddling into you probably more than she should be, but
hey, you're still a guy so you're going to enjoy the hell out of it.
The
rain stops way before you're ready for it to.
Once
the rain stops, the mission goes as close to textbook as any of yours do. Leo
and Zari are waiting for you on the other side of town, their portion of the mission
done, too.
"Worried
about you three. Thought you got lost." Leo never sounds exactly like your
Snart. He lacks the...ballsiness,
you think. He's so caught up in trying to get you all to talk about your
feelings and "own" things that he's lost some of himself.
Or
maybe this Leo never had that stuff to begin with. Maybe he had a version of
his dad who wasn't a complete shithead.
As
you all walk back to the Waverider,
Leo holds you up with a hand on your arm. "I want to see you happy,
Mickey. And right now, you look that way."
"Name's
not Mickey." You almost laugh though. It's sort of karma, having a name
you don't like forced upon you after all the nicknames you've handed out.
"Fine.
But my point is, my Mick waited and his life was over before he could really
live it."
"Oh,
I've lived."
"Yes,
I imagine sex with strangers is very satisfying."
You
resist telling him you're not doing that anymore. You're...faithful, God help
you. Even if its just to an idea, a hint of maybe, of someday.
"Mick,
I need you," Sara says, her tone all business.
"Captain
needs me." You hurry away, trotting up to her. "What's up?"
"Nothing.
You just looked uncomfortable."
"Yeah.
He's always trying to get inside my head."
"You
were his friend, Mick. Possibly his best friend. He's just...happy to see you.
And this is his thing—stealing our motivations and deepest thoughts instead of
things."
"I
hadn't thought of it that way. I guess our basic nature doesn't change."
"From
what Earth X's version of my dad said, mine didn't, so why would his?"
"Yeah,
but I died for pigs on that Earth."
"Which
may mean you're not the jerk you pretend to be."
You
nod, because you like that idea—or like her thinking that way about you,
anyway.
"I
think you should give Leo a chance. We've had the luxury of time travel to
interact with the people we've lost, but he hasn't. So
it's natural for him to want back what he had."
"Okay.
I get that."
"Okay."
She smiles. "Thanks for letting me sleep."
"Anytime."
##
You're
working on a new kind of weapon, one that Gideon has given you the specs for,
and you hold it up. "Does this look right?"
"Yes,
it does." There is, amazingly, no surprise in her voice.
"Do
you like me Gideon?"
"I
am programmed to serve all members of the crew with peak efficiency."
"Great
answer. Do you like me?"
"I'm
not programmed to 'like' anyone, Mister Rory."
You
chuckle to yourself, the way you used to when Snart
gave a load of bullshit instead of a straight answer. Then you do it again, the
way that always made him ask:
"You
don't believe me, Mister Rory?"
Wow,
people and AIs were so consistent.
"Sure
don't. I listen, Gideon. Don't say much, as I think you know."
"Monosyllabic
is, I believe, the word."
You
laugh because that was really bitchy of her. "Right. So
I listen and people don't know how much they give away by the way they say
things. When you talked to Rip, your voice changed. You didn't just like
him—you loved him."
"He
was my captain. A captain occupies a higher place on the hierarchy of
service."
"Yeah,
well you don't talk to our current captain that way."
She
clearly doesn't know what to do with that level of gotcha. She's saved from
answering by the ring of your door chime.
"Come
in."
"Jesus,
Mick, you sleep in here?" Sara sounds more amused than bitchy. "Did
you buy up an entire store of crap?"
"Not
crap. You think it's easy replacing things?" You've been thinking ahead
ever since you got on board. Snart used to give you
shit too—even called you a hoarder. But then he needed something for his cold
gun and you happened to have just the thing. He shut up after that.
"What
do you want, Blondie?"
She
walks over, leans into your side, her elbow on your shoulder and stares down at
the mess of parts that's turning into a gun. "Are you an inventor
now?"
"Gideon
is. I'm a builder."
"A
quite excellent builder, too," Gideon says.
"A
monosyllabic builder." You laugh as you tell Sara to hold a piece down so
you can solder it.
"But
excellent, if terse." Gideon sounds weirdly positive about you.
"Why
is she buttering you up?" Sara's voice is pitched low, her breath warm on
your ear, and it makes you shiver.
"No
idea."
"Mister
Rory has proven himself quite effective at multiple tasks."
"Vague
praise. The best kind." You shake your head. "Yeah, I can eat and
walk at the same time."
"He
is also an excellent fighter."
"Gideon,
what're you doing?" Sara sounds more confused than pissed.
"It's
never good for a captain to get too isolated. You and Mister Rory are
compatible in many significant ways."
"She's
matchmaking. That's disturbing." You move Sara's finger down so you can
adjust a pin. "The captain's got a whole team to keep her connected,
Gideon. Lay off the Yentl thing."
"It's
yenta," Sara says, laughing softly.
"Whatever."
You point to another spot on the gun. "Press here."
"Yes,
sir."
"You're
handy. Maybe I'm the one who needs company."
"Will
it make you clean up this place?"
"Not
a chance."
"Is
there a bed in here?"
"Why
do you care? You sleepy?" You push the magnifier over the gun so you can
see what you're doing.
"That's
not the only thing they're used for."
"I'm
all ears, Captain." And one other part that's suddenly way more awake than
it was before she walked in.
"I'm
just saying. If you had someone you wanted to entertain, this would not be the
place to do it."
"Right.
I'd have to go to her place, wouldn't I?" There's an edge to your voice
that you hate. Women always came to you and then ran off once the sex was done.
Who ever wanted to admit they were seeing you?
"Well,
I'm not sleeping in here."
You're
not sure you heard her right. You keep working. Then you say, once the silence
is about to get really awkward, "Did you just say...?"
She
whaps you with her free hand. "Way to leave a girl hanging, Rory. Jeez.
This is why I like women, you dip shit."
"You
kind of snuck up on it. Stealth come-ons are for smart people."
"Mister
Rory's IQ is surprisingly high," Gideon says.
Sara
laughs. "How high?"
"Gideon,
get the hell out of here. I'll finish this later." You push the gun away
and turn in a way that leaves Sara between your legs.
She
turns. "How do we know she's gone?"
"Blondie,
she's a ship-wide AI. She's never gone. Like it or not, we've probably got a voyeur."
Then you decide to be brave and reach for her hair, pushing it back, running
your hands down it. Soft. So soft.
She
leans into your hand, then puts hers over it. "This isn't something I
wanted."
"Then
walk away."
"Don't
want to."
"Then
stay."
"Yeah.
That's a good idea." She climbs onto your lap, straddling you, and you're
not sure these work chairs were really made for two people, but you both know
how to fall, so what the hell.
You
expect frantic kissing and clothes coming off in a rush, but she just studies
you, rubbing her hand at the back of your neck in a way that gives you shivers.
Then she reaches down and smiles. "You want me."
"Never
any doubt of that, Sara."
"Do
you love me?"
"Do
you want me to?" This is getting weird. Is she ever going to kiss you?
"I
don't know."
And
it hurts. More than you want it to. "I think," you say as you rub
your hands down her back, moving them back under her t-shirt, skin on skin.
"That if you don't know, you should get off me. Because I really like you
and sex makes things awkward if people don't know why they're fucking."
"Do
you have a bed in here?" She smiles, and it's a smile you've never seen on
her face before. It's sweet and silly and not at all sad. And then she leans
down and kisses you and this kiss is nothing like the one she gave you before.
You
stand, carrying her as she wraps her legs around you in a way that might really
hurt if she wanted it to. "Here's my bed."
It's
behind a screen. It's behind a screen because you like to sleep in a nest of
comforters and blankets and pillows. It's manly colored bedding, but still a
lot of it. Snart used to give you such crap over it. What's the thread count on that ensemble,
Mick?
"This
is way nicer than my bed."
"That's
why you should be a thief and not an assassin. The perks are hell of a lot
better."
"I'll
keep that in mind." She kisses you, sweeter this time, not so much the
woman in charge—although you don't mind that. "Sometimes I like it
rough."
"Me,
too."
"Sometimes,
I don't." She kisses along your jaw. "What do I want now?"
"A
little of both."
"Right
in one." And then she's off you and pulling off your clothes and you're
taking hers off too. They end up over the screen and then she pushes you down
and climbs aboard and rides you in a way you've been fantasizing about for a
while now.
Only
this is so much better than what you imagined.
You
wait until she comes and then roll her over, pinning her arms, grinning.
"I know you're letting me do this."
"You're
nearly strong enough. I like that." And she wraps her legs around you,
high up, and you're gone. Thrusting and moaning and calling her name, and you
hear her saying, "Let go. I won't break."
So you do. You do and she doesn't and you
both are breathing hard as you roll off her and pull her in.
You
can see something in her eyes, something unfinished but not something she's
going to say anything about, so you slide your hand down and murmur, "You
tell me when you need more, okay? I will always give you more."
She's
moving in time with your hand. "That's just your way of getting me to do
more." Her words are coming out a little bit garbled but you get the gist
and laugh and say, "Yeah, yeah it probably is. But also, I like to watch
you go."
And
you do, because she's powerful and free and so damn gorgeous as she lets go, as
she cries out.
As
she's yours. Even if it's just in bed. Or maybe just this one time. It would be
worth it for just this moment.
She
rolls into you, and you hold her tightly. You can just make out her saying,
"I really like you, Mick."
"I
really like you, too."
"It's
okay if you want to fall in love with me." She looks up, a devilish smile
on her face. "I mean, who wouldn't?"
You're
laughing, touching her cheek to make sure she understands it's a joke when you
say, "I don't know. Now that I've had you. Pffff."
"I
know," she says as she grasps you, as she squeezes and slides her hand in
a combination that you think may leave you whimpering in joy. "I suck in
bed."
"You
really do." You can barely get it out because what's she's doing feels so
good. And then she goes down on you and you hope to God the walls are really,
really soundproofed.
She's
laughing as she comes up. "I hate a man who just lies there
silently."
"Yeah.
Sucks." You pull her to you, kissing her, tasting yourself on her. Loving
that. Soon she'll be able to taste herself on you.
"This
is a really comfortable bed." She pulls one of the throws up around the
two of you. "Is this silk?"
"Yeah.
Is that a problem?"
"Nope.
No problem. I really need to upgrade."
"Or
steal." You're not going to tell her you made them in the ship's
replicator. You have a reputation to uphold.
And
you think it's going to take a beating once you become her boy toy. Because
right now there's nothing you won't do for her.
Then
again, there wasn't much you wouldn't do for her before she had sex with you.
So maybe nothing has to change?
"Are
you hungry?" she asks as she burrows deeper into the covers.
"Starving."
"Go
get us stuff. You know what I like."
And
you do, because you've sat and eaten with her enough times. "Can I get
dressed?"
"The
others would probably appreciate it—if anyone is even up." And then she
rolls over and gives you an amazing shot of her backside.
"God
damn you're beautiful."
She
looks back at you, the sexy way, over her shoulder. You're gone. Just gone.
"Are you going to get food for us, Rory, or do I have to do it
myself?"
"Fine."
You pull on your pants and a shirt that you realize is inside out once you get
halfway down the hallway. You haven't bothered with shoes.
"Mick,
I'm making cupcakes. I got Gideon to let me have real sugar." Haircut is
gesturing you over. He's got that crazy hyper energy he gets when he can't
sleep and decides to make dessert.
"Save
some for me." You start dishing up food. Your stuff is predictable, but
you see Ray's expression change as you grab one of Sara's salads and the
dressing she likes. Then you grab four beers and a bottle of water because
she's always thirsty for it.
"Eating
for two?" Ray asks, his expression teasing.
You're
not sure if she wants it known that you two are together—whatever that means—so
you just shrug and ask, "What kind of cupcakes?"
"I
don't know. Why don't you ask the captain what kind she might like
tonight?"
"Why
would I ask her?"
Ray
looks pointedly at the salad with the big "SARA" label on it.
"Gee, Mick, I have no idea."
"Don't
have to ask her. She likes mocha. And chocolate. And carrot cake with that
cream cheese frosting." God, how much do you know about her? The scary
thing is she could probably answer for you, too.
"Ooh,
mocha sounds good. Okay, well, don't keep her waiting."
You're
still not sure how to answer so you just hightail it back to your quarters.
"Haircut's making cupcakes. He wanted to know what kind you liked."
You point to the salad.
"Well
I hope you told him. We're gonna need those
carbs." She waggles her eyebrows in a way that makes all the unsure bits
of you settle down. Then she sits up, pulling the silk throw around her like
some Greek goddess, and you two eat in the companionable way you've learned to
do. "I'll go out and get the cupcakes. Can't have you taking all the
heat."
"So,
this isn't a secret?"
"Nope.
Unless you want it to be?" She looks up at you, and you see a moment of
uncertainty in her eyes.
And
you love her for it. "I don't want it to be."
"Well,
okay, then."
"Okay.
Good."
She
starts to laugh. "Good."
He
gets the game: who can say the least. "Mmmm."
Then: "I win."
"Duh.
You've got me in this bed—you already did win." She shoots you a fake vain
look, then waves it off. "We're both winning."
"You
okay with this, Gideon?" you ask, winking at Sara.
"Oh,
I was doing other things, so I am not sure what you mean, Mister Rory. "
She says it in a way that is totally a big fat lie.
You
think of another person who seems awfully interested in what you and Sara are
doing. "Wonder what Leo's going to say?"
She
smiled gently. "He'll be happy for us, Mick. He'll just be happy for
us."
FIN