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stillthewordgirl · 5 years

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LOT/CC fic: Somewhere On Your Road Tonight (ch. 12 of 16)

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.")

The second of the "River of Time" chapters! Turns out Leonard couldn't completely avoid everything that happened to him in the original(?) timeline.

Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta! This can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

Leonard’s wanted Savage defeated since he first saw Rip’s image of his city in flames, over the rooftops of Central City that fateful day.

He’s wanted Savage dead since the day the warlord threatened to kill Mick, not so long into their mission.

The way he feels now combines both those feelings and still makes them pale in comparison.

He pauses outside the brig and takes a few deep, steadying breaths, recalling every lesson learned though decades of being Lewis Snart’s son. He has a certain scary conviction that Lewis and Savage are more similar than anyone else might consider.

But he considers. He considers for a long few moments.

And then he saunters into the brig, head held high.

Savage isn’t facing him. The warlord is leaning against the wall, facing away. “Dr. Stein,” he starts in his oozing voice, starting to turn, “I told you, I…”

He stops when he sees his visitor, though, and Leonard thinks there’s actually a flicker of surprise there. Interesting. Leonard halts, folding his arms and regarding Savage with a mildly interested but unenthused expression. He doesn’t speak.

Savage doesn’t let on to anything past that second of surprise, though. He finishes turning, studying the thief intently, and then smiles.

“Ah,” he says, folding his hands in front of himself. “Mr. Snart. I will confess, I was not expecting a visit from you.”

Leonard tilts his head and lifts an eyebrow. It’s an invitation to continue, and Savage takes it.

“The others, certainly.” The warlord takes a deliberate step closer, then another. “They have questions, or they simply want to gawk.” The smile grows. “You, however, do not seem the sort to fall prey to such…prosaic concerns.”

Leonard smirks at him. He knows an attempt to flatter when he hears it. He wants no part of that from Vandal Savage, but he knows how to play the game.

“What can I say?” he drawls with a shrug. “I do tend to be curious.”

Savage inclines his head, keeping his eyes on Leonard.

“Well, I’m glad,” he says. “I think, perhaps, that we have more in common than the rest of this…” he waves a hand, “…motley collection Captain Hunter has assembled.”

Leonard’s eyes narrow before he can stop himself. “We’re nothing alike,” he says a bit sharply, then, cursing his reaction, smooths it out a bit. “For one thing, I’m out here.” Another tilt of his head toward Savage, locked in the brig. “And you…well.”

Oh, the other man doesn’t like that. His eyes narrow, too, before he also attempts to hide it. “But you have to know that none of this group of so-called heroes would hesitate to put you in here as well, in any other circumstance,” he said smoothly. “For simply being what you are. Something far more pragmatic and far less holier-than-thou than they are.” He spreads his hands out. “A survivor.”

He’s good. There’s just enough truth in there that once, it might have even hit a nerve. But Leonard’s been through more than he thinks Savage knows, with this team and particularly three other members of it, and he’s not the person he used to be either. Still, it seems best to play along, a little. He gives Savage a thin smile, one that could be read as agreement or simply understanding.

“Indeed,” he drawls, studying his nails. “And you’re good at that, too, aren’t you? In a manner of speaking.” He looks up, suddenly. “Too good to get trapped here so easily, I’d think.”

Savage stares, then smiles back, a similar expression, thin and considering. He waits.

And Leonard continues. “So, I’m thinking,” he says casually, starting to pace in an equally insouciant manner, “that you might just want to be here.” He turns, ambling slowly back to the left, not looking at Savage. “And I’ll admit, I’m wondering why.”

Stop. Turn. He finally looks back at the man in the brig.

Savage’s expression isn’t quite what he’d expected. He’d expected anger, or maybe surprise. Consternation, maybe. A combination of all three.

But, no. No, Savage looks thrilled. Like he’s found himself someone who gets it.

“Well. Well. Well,” the other man says. “I think we need to have a talk, Mr. Snart. I think maybe we can come to…a mutually beneficial agreement.” A pause. “Let me out, and we’ll talk. I think the Time Masters could use a clever and pragmatic man like yourself.”

And then he smiles. A big smile. A commiserating one.

It turns Leonard’s stomach, actually. He resists the wave of nausea, though, and keeps his expression steely, watching Savage, trying to decide how to play this. In some ways, Savage just confirmed something, but he needs more information. And letting Savage out won’t be good for anyone.

But neither would allowing things to continue as they are.

Leonard makes himself take one step closer to the door of the brig, the warlord’s eyes on him avidly. Then he pauses, as if considering something.

“Tell me first,” he says casually, looking at Savage. “Confirm that I’m right. That you’re working with the Time Masters.” He pauses again. “I need to hear that. Before I commit.” He lets his eyes drift to the lock. “Because if I do this…I’m committed.”

Savage studies him, his face giving nothing away. Then he starts to speak…

Raymond almost skids into the brig, like he’s been running, coming to a halt a few feet from Leonard and pulling himself up, like he’s been entrusted with a very important task. He doesn’t even look at Savage, but he grins at Leonard as if the other man has given him a very surprising gift.

“I have your back,” he tells Leonard staunchly. “I’m sorry; it took Sara a few more minutes to find me. I was…”

Leonard holds up a hand, and Raymond stops. He’d actually just about forgotten he’d asked Sara to send the other man for backup, a measure of how uneasy he was about Savage, so this is his fault, really, he thinks. There’s not even any point in blaming Raymond. More’s the pity.

For a moment, both he and Savage stare at the scientist, whose grin flags just a little.

Then Savage sighs, just a bit dramatically, and shakes his head.

“Oh, Dr. Palmer,” he says almost pityingly. “Incredibly bad timing as usual.”

Leonard can’t disagree, but Raymond’s chin goes up and he looks at his teammate as if expecting a defense. When Leonard shrugs, he rolls his eyes and looks back at Savage.

“Well,” he retorts, “could be worse. I’m out here and you’re in there, after all.”

Leonard closes his eyes with a sigh, bidding farewell to any hopes of getting more out of Savage. The warlord is focused on Raymond now, a sly smile on his face…and, oh crap, this probably isn’t good at all.

“You…now, you, I’ve been expecting for a while now,” he says a bit mockingly to the scientist. “I’m surprised it’s taken you so long, to be honest.”

Raymond starts to speak again, but Savage talks right over the top of him. “Here to ask how to free your rival’s mind, are you?” He smirks as Leonard and Raymond stare at him. “The moment I release him, you know, you will lose her forever. We're actually quite alike, you and I.”

He leers at them both…but as the silence continues and Leonard and Raymond keep staring at him, that expression flags a little. Then it vanishes, and Savage’s eyes narrow in ire.

It occurs to Leonard that they could use this. Things are clearly different than Savage—just like Chronos—had been led to believe they would be. He whips his head around to look at his teammate, his own eyes narrowed.

“Raym…” he starts to say warningly.

But it’s too late. Raymond finds his voice—and laughs at Savage, an amused sound that also manages an edge of scorn.

“Wow,” he tells the captive. “You’re really behind the times. And what makes you think Carter’s even on this ship?”

Savage takes a step closer to the clear barrier. Leonard sees something flash through his eyes—dismay, rage, consternation. A plan pops into his head, then. Probably not a good idea—OK, definitely not a good idea—but sometimes you gotta roll the dice.

“Chay-Ara would never…” Savage starts.

“First, she’s not Chay-Ara now. She’s Kendra. Second, that wasn’t even Carter, or the version of Khufu she knew,” Raymond informs him. “Third…”

Leonard steps in before the altogether-too-forthcoming scientist can spill even more beans than he has. “I think,” he says smoothly, “that we need…more information.” He gives Raymond a look. The other man’s eyes widen, and he gives Leonard a solemn look in return, but Leonard’s already studying Savage again.

“Raymond,” he says quietly. “Go away.”

“Yeah…what?” But then Raymond nods, jerkily, and takes a step back as Leonard glances over. “Oh. Um. OK.” He looks at Savage. And then smirks. Widely. “OK.”

Leonard’s almost proud at the sheer un-Raymond-like attitude. But he waits another long moment for the other man to leave before looking back at Savage. The warlord is staring after the scientist with an expression that looks part baffled and part enraged.

“So,” Leonard drawls, dragging Savage’s attention back to him, “where were we?”

Savage stares at him a moment, then steps closer to the glass. “The man named Carter Hall,” he says. “He isn’t on this ship?”

Leonard considers lying, just for a moment. “Nope,” he drawls, though, folding his arms. “I mean, he was, at best, a reincarnation of Carter Hall. And he was a real asshat.” Savage actually snorts, and Leonard smirks. But he doesn’t say anything more about that.

Instead, he redirects the conversation again. “We were talking,” he says casually, stepping closer. “And…?”

Savage regards him. “Let me out,” he says finally. “I need a gesture too. Before I give you anything.”

Leonard regards him in return. Then he pulls his cold gun out of his holster and primes it, pushing it to the highest setting.

This is a bad idea. This is a very bad idea. But every instinct in him says they’re on their way to disaster at the Vanishing Point. And the need to stand between that and Sara…and frankly, all the others…is strong indeed. If he can get anything, anything at all, out of Savage…well, he’ll do it.

He hesitates a moment…and then slaps the lock to the brig, opening the door.

Savage steps out, face solemn, eyes bright and altogether too pleased. Leonard points the cold gun at him, grimly, watching him intently for any sign of the trouble he’s sure is coming.

“OK,” he grits out. “You’re out. Tell me. What are the Time Masters up to?”

Savage smiles, holding his hands out to either side. “I’ll admit, I’m still wondering,” he says smoothly. “You were…not a visitor I expected. I thought, at first, that perhaps it was just that native pragmatism, that you saw how the wind was blowing and came to make a deal.” He takes a step toward Leonard. “But. I wonder.”

Leonard’s eyes narrow. He raises his gun a little, aiming it right at the warlord, the blue light reflected in Savage’s eyes. “This wasn’t the deal. I want to know about the Time Masters.”

Savage continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “From everything I know of you, Mr. Snart, you’re not one to care about anyone other than yourself. Not much, anyway. Your partner the arsonist, perhaps, to some extent.” He tilts his head. “But. Something has changed. Hasn’t it? Well, well. And how did that happen?” His smile grows even slyer. “You care for someone on this crew of losers.”

Leonard steps forward before he can stop himself, hand tightening on the cold gun’s trigger. “Talk or get back in the goddamned brig,” he hisses. “I just want to know the truth.”

“It’s not Chay-Ara. Or the scientist,” Savage muses, continuing his thought. “Certainly not the captain.” A light appears in his eyes. “Ah. The assassin. Oooh, Mr. Snart. She is lovely. Is that what you want, then? You want the Time Masters to give her to you. In exchange for…”

The very idea is both absurd and stomach-churching, and Leonard can’t keep this up any longer. “Don’t you even say her name,” he snaps, unable to keep the fury from his tone. “You…

But he’s distracted now, angry and disgusted, and it’s enough. Savage takes the chance, lunging like a striking snake and grabbing the cold gun, wrenching it around. Leonard catches himself quickly enough to fight him for it, but while they’re grappling for the gun, Savage gets a hand on the trigger and a spray of blue-white energy emits from it, freezing an icy path across the ceiling, the wall, and…

And, as Savage gives the weapon another jerk, across Leonard’s right hand.

He yells, but it’s not like it hurts. Not at first. It’s too much of a shock, a jarring sensation of extreme cold and then numbness. More than numbness, really, though that’s how his brain processes it. Because at that setting, the hand isn’t even living flesh anymore; it’s already shreds of dead, frozen tissue encased in ice. There’s no saving it, and he can’t think about that right now, he can’t, he’s still fighting Savage as best he can.

But the blast was a shock to his system, and no matter how he tries to hang onto the gun with his other hand, his body and his brain have other ideas, like shutting down and curling up to figuratively lick his wounds. Savage yanks the gun away, laughing triumphantly, and…

Raymond crashes back into the brig, in his Atom suit, hand out and energy beam blasting forward to strike the surprised Savage full on, smashing the warlord across the room and into the wall. He drops like a stone, unconscious, the cold gun skittering across the floor in a way that would irritate Leonard if he wasn’t trying desperately to stay conscious despite the shock. It still doesn’t quite hurt; he’s pretty sure that will come later as things start… thawing…

Raymond studies Savage for a second, then apparently decides the man is truly down for the count and looks at Leonard instead. Leonard, glancing upward as a cold sweat breaks out on his forehead, sees Raymond’s eyes widen as he steps forward.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, crap. Snart…”

Leonard knows he probably owes the scientist his life, but he’s not up for admitting that just yet. “You…coulda…busted in here…sooner,” he pants, curled protectively around the hand that is no longer really a hand.

“I went and got my suit, just in case; I’ve only been back a moment and I didn’t realize you were in trouble at first.” There’s distress in the scientist’s eyes as Leonard peers up at him. “Let’s get you to the medbay.”

“We need…to get Savage…back in the cell first.”

“You can’t…”

That’s when Rip runs into the room, his gun in his hand, although he puts on the brakes immediately to take in the scene in front of him. Relief at the sight of Savage out of commission resolves into dismay at the sight of Leonard and his hand…and faint irritation that seems to be directed at Raymond.

“Bloody hell,” he says with an explosive sigh. “Gideon said Vandal Savage was free. Dr. Palmer, do you realize…”

“I didn’t let him out!” the other man protests. “It was…ah…”

The room’s starting to swim in front of Leonard’s eyes, and the line where living flesh meets frozen is starting to, it seems, register what’s happened. He puts his shoulder against the wall, closing his eyes and fighting nausea and a rising tide of pain, then forces them open again.

“Don’t blame him, Rip,” he mutters. “It was me.”

The look of consternation on Rip’s face would be amusing if he was in a little better condition. Leonard shakes his head roughly, trying to clear his head. He can’t even manage his usual smirk.

“I’m going to presume that you weren’t trying to set him loose on all of us, but then what…” The captain stops himself and sighs. “But not now. Let’s get you to the medbay and get you fixed up.”

There’s only so much fixing that’s going to be possible, and Leonard doesn’t want to think about it. “Who’s flying the ship?” he mutters, watching as Rip and Raymond drag the still-senseless Savage into the brig and close the door securely. “Thought there was enough damage you needed someone on the bridge.”

“Ms. Lance, actually,” the captain tells him, dusting his hands off and scowling at Savage’s prone figure through the clear barrier. “With Gideon’s assistance.”

“Huh.” Leonard closes his eyes again. He’s starting to gray out…and he’s pretty sure he’s going to lose the battle against it soon.

“Good,” he slurs. “Good. Most competent person on this…bucket…”

And that’s when he passes out.

When Leonard wakes up again, there’s no more pain. Except for some residual grogginess, his head is clear, though there’s the sort of distance he associates with good painkillers, the kind he rarely allows himself to take.

And he doesn’t have a right hand.

Leonard tilts his head and studies the stump clinically, glad for the distance granted by drugs, for once. While he was out, someone must have melted what remained of the hand and trimmed the dead flesh away, which wouldn’t have been a pleasant process. The line of amputation otherwise seems to be clean. Odd.

He’s in a medbay-type chair, slightly reclined, and his right arm is resting, lightly strapped down, on a low table next to it. Above the stump, there’s a suspended, thin cylinder that’s glowing glue and pointed downward. He’s only started studying it, though, when Rip bustles into the room, Mick right behind him.

“Ah, you are awake!” The captain nods to him, then starts tapping at a screen nearby. “This will just be a moment, Mr. Snart. We’ve slowed our approach just for you, I’ll have you know. Thought you’d want to go through this first, given your trepidation about the Vanishing Point.”

Leonard frowns at him, but he’s also distracted by Mick, who’s standing there at the foot of the chair, glaring at him in a way in which Leonard’s pretty sure he’s glared at Mick after any number of particularly foolish moves over the years.

“You’re an idiot,” Mick tells his friend, tone harsh in a way that Leonard knows perfectly well hides other feelings.

Well, things may be different now, but Leonard’s not really up for having that talk at the moment. “No argument,” he says, resting his head back against the chair. “Ship OK? I mean, we’re apparently not dead.”

Rip ignores him. Mick scowls. “Not for lack of trying,” he mutters, then repeats: “Idiot.”

Leonard gives him a long-suffering look, then blinks, remembering the state of other things before his own debacle with Savage. “Wait. How’s the kid?”

“Jax? Gone.” Mick waves a hand as Leonard’s eyes widen. “Not like that. Me an’ the professor sent him back to 2016 to save his life. Should work.”

“Good.” Well, at least one of them might get out of this alive.

“Well, not for the professor.” However, Mick continues before Leonard can ask about that. “You’re a lucky bastard, Snart. But you still gotta face the music for being a dumbass.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was a stupid move. I…”

“No. I meant Blondie. She’s gonna be in here next.” Mick grins evilly as Leonard closes his eyes. “Have fun. I suggest groveling.”

“I don’t grovel.” He hates the whine in his own voice, but frankly, it’s been a rough day. Mick just chuckles, shakes his head, and leaves.

“Oh, given Ms. Lance’s ire, I think you might want to consider it.” Rip claps his hands together. “Especially since you’re going to be a captive audience for the next little while. Gideon, start the regeneration process.”

The pen thing starts to glow more. Leonard eyes it, and Rip, with uncertainty. “What do you mean by ‘regeneration?’” He’d make a Doctor Who joke if he was in a better mood. As it is, he’s feeling a quiver of hope he didn’t suspect was possible.

“I took genetic samples from each of you at the start of our voyage,” the captain tells him almost cheerfully, “for this exact eventuality.”

It’s a little disconcerting, that Rip thought it was that possible this would be necessary. A spray of blue light is now emitting from the pen thing, spilling onto the stump of Leonard’s right arm. He stares at it, feeling his skin prickle.

“Why am I only hearing about this now?” he drawls, glancing at the captain.

Rip actually smiles. “Because none of you had lost a limb yet.”

Good point. Leonard watches in fascination as the light grows stronger, and then: “Ow.”

It’s like it’s a 3-D printer, but for flesh and bone. And it seems like it should actually be hurting far more than it is, considering that there’s now a skeletal hand protruding from the blunt termination of his wrist. And the sight’s both creepy and incredible, but it’s not like that for long—next is a network of nerves and blood vessels, muscles, and then skin, over the top of it all like a blank slate, scars he’s had for decades gone as it they’d never been there.

The entire process takes seconds. Leonard’s new fingers twitch involuntarily as he stares at them. He’d forced himself not to think about what life would hold for a thief without his dominant hand, and this…this is a miracle unlooked for. He’s not sure what to do with it.

Rip chuckles, the sound full of pleasure in the tricks his beloved ship has up her metaphorical sleeve. In a smooth motion, he tosses something toward Leonard, and the other man catches it involuntarily—a stress ball, the sort used to exercise injured or weak hands or wrists.

“Stay here until you’re sure you’re steady,” the captain instructs. “You’ve had a great many shocks to your system.” The smile goes a little sly. “And, as Mr. Rory said, you have to face the music.”

Leonard stares after him as he tries to tell his hand to contract its fingers around the ball. He’s still watching the door when Sara stalks in.

He’s already mentally rehearsing what he’s going to say to her, but that all flies out the window when he gets a good look. He’d expected anger and irritation for doing such a dumb thing—and those emotions are there, in spades. He deserves them, and he knows that.

But as she steps closer, he can see Sara’s eyes are red-rimmed, the bright blue even brighter in contrast with her skin. She’s been crying. About him? Or is something else…

“What’s wrong?” he blurts out uncharacteristically.

Sara’s eyes narrow. Oops.

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him, voice matter-of-fact.

“Mick has informed me of that fact.” Leonard pauses, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m sorry?”

Sara rolls her eyes at him, pulling up a chair and taking a seat. “You better be,” she mutters, inspecting his hand, which is resting again on the table. “That’s incredible.”

Leonard tries to get his fingers to flex again and is pleased when they respond, mostly. “Yeah. I’ll admit that. I owe ol’ Rip.”

Sara eyes him again. She’s all too obviously not going to let herself be distracted. “ ‘What’s wrong,’” she repeats carefully. “Did you really mean that?”

Leonard blinks at her. “Yes? Mick said Stein found a way to save Jax. Is there something…”

He lets his voice trail off. Given the look Sara’s giving him, it seems the best thing to do.

She sits back in her chair a moment and studies him, then shakes her head. “Do you have any idea,” she says carefully. “what you looked like when Mick carried you into the medbay earlier?”

“No?”

“You were unconscious, pale as…as ice. And your hand…” Sara takes a deep breath. “It was melting. And there were…rags…of dead skin, blackened flesh, hanging off your arm. It was…I’ve seen some rough things, Leonard. This was…it was bad. And what was there was rough, jagged, and…” She let her voice trail off then. “Gideon sedated you so you wouldn’t wake up in the middle of it, and Stein helped walk me through…cleaning things up.”

Leonard swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.” Sara glares at him. “What on earth possessed you to let Savage out? You kept saying he was a danger to all of us. What…”

“I thought I could get him to tell me what he was up to. ‘Cause it turned out he thought I was there to throw my lot in with his.” He gives her a thin smile as she swears. “I’m a villain, after all.”

“You’re more than that, and everyone on this ship but Vandal Savage knows it.” Sara studies him. “Still a stupid thing to do.”

“Indubitably.”

“You tried to play him.” She shakes her head. “And he used me against you. Yeah, Gideon gave us access to the video records. I heard it. He distracted you.”

The last thing—one of the last things—Leonard wants is for her to blame herself in any shape or form. “If it wasn’t you, it would have been something else,” he admits. “The minute I let him out of the brig. But…”

“But Savage worries you that much.”

“Yeah.” He hesitates. “He came pretty close to confirming that he’s working with the Time Masters, even if I didn’t get him to say it point blank. Did Rip see that?”

Sara sighs. “After the fact, yes. But it didn’t change anything. He thinks this is our only option.” She stands, then, and holds a hand out to him, and Leonard knows he’s (mostly) forgiven. He slips his left hand into hers, levering himself upward with a grunt, and has to pause to fight back vertigo. After a moment, they start back into the hallway, though Sara steers him in the direction of the bridge instead of their room.

“We’re almost to the Vanishing Point,” she says quietly. “I think we both probably want to see what happens.”

Leonard would really like to lie down, which seems silly given that he’s apparently spent a good deal of time unconscious recently. But Sara’s right about that.

“Hear you flew the ship,” he says, trying to make his tone light, glancing over at her.

“Yeah.” Sara’s lips curve. “Not a thing I’d ever thought I’d want to do. But I enjoyed it.”

“Told our captain you were the most competent person on this ship.” He chuckles a little as she lifts an eyebrow at him. “And then I passed out. That’s one way to get the last word around here.”

“Yeah, well, don’t you ever try it on me.”

All of the others are on the bridge, all watching the viewscreen, when they enter. Leonard ignores Raymond’s enthusiastic greeting and requests to see his new hand and nods in acknowledgement of Stein and Kendra’s pleased welcome—and Mick’s still-irritated grunt. He sits with alacrity in one of the jump seats, trying not to look like he’s exhausted from walking just the distance from the medbay to the bridge.

“Is that…” Sara starts, stepping closer to where Rip is sitting, staring out the viewscreen. Leonard looks, too. The odd, complicated jumble of black structures there at the supposed edge of the timeline is like nothing he’s ever seen before, but…

He shakes his head roughly as a shiver runs down his spine.

“Welcome to the Vanishing Point,” Rip tells them.

And Leonard feels…

The closest thing he can think of is the start of a panic attack. The breathless feeling of something-not-right-something-horribly-wrong, the way his heart starts racing, the chill that overtakes him. He drags in a deep breath, trying to regain control. None of the others seem to notice…well, except for Mick, who’s watching him with narrowed eyes.

“I can't believe we made it,” Stein is saying.

Sara hums in agreement, then pauses. There’s a slight hitch in the ship’s motion, and Leonard feels it too, but he’s focusing too much on regulating his breathing to say anything.

“Did you just lose control of the ship?” she asks.

“Yeah, that might have something to do with us being the most wanted time criminals in all of history.” Rip hops up from the captain’s chair, smiling as if he hadn’t just said something rather alarming.

As he does so, a man’s face appears on their viewscreen, stern and unfamiliar.

“Timeship Waverider, we've taken control of your guidance systems,” he announces. “Disable your weapons and prepare to be boarded.”

Rip chuckles. “Oh, it's good to be home.”

The other Time Master pauses. “Captain Hunter,” he says. “This is…unexpected.”

“Well, I have a reputation to maintain, don't I?” Rip smiles at him. “And I hereby request an immediate assembly of the Time Council in accordance with General Order 52.”

“So you've returned to answer for your crimes?”

“No. I'm here to justify them.”

They’re at the Vanishing Point now. There’s only so much they can do, even if Leonard’s right and this is all going to go downhill fast.

Sara makes sure she has an array of knives tucked around her person—but then, she always does. She doesn’t miss that Leonard immediately goes to the armory to find his cold gun, double-checking it before holstering it securely at his side.

But then they both return to their room. If everything does all to hell, they want to be together.

The others had disappeared to their own various pursuits when Rip had left the ship. Sara sighs as she looks around the room, trying to figure out if there’s anything more they can do. She hates waiting.

Leonard, who’s still edgy in a way that’s clearly nerves, scoops their deck of cards up from the desk and waves it at her. And it seems like there would be worse things.

It’s not a good game, though. He’s jumpy and unhappy, and he keeps flexing the fingers of his right hand like he can’t believe they’re there. For her part, Sara keeps seeing, in her mind’s eye, what Leonard had looked like when she’d entered the brig only…what, a few hours ago? They’re both distracted, and they’re not playing well, and…

Leonard’s head jerks up again, the third time in maybe a minute.

“Did you hear that?” he asks, eyes darting around.

She hadn’t, actually. “Don't try to distract me.”

Another moment passes. Leonard suddenly gets to his feet, crossing to the door, listening intently. “We need to find somewhere to hide.”

Sara sits down her cards and cautiously joins him. “Could we fight our way out?” she asks carefully. She can’t hear whatever he seems to be hearing. Which is odd, actually.

But Leonard shakes his head emphatically. “No,” he says, then reaches out to take her hand. “C’mon.”

Sara lets him take it but raises her voice. “Gideon, warn the others!”

Only silence greets her words.

#captain canary #legends of tomorrow #somewhere on your road tonight

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