AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is based on a wild theory that popped up in my head after seeing some of the plot synopses, sizzle reels and behind the scenes photos for this season of Legends and the 2017 crossover.

Thanks to Dragonydreams and Jael for encouraging me to move forward, and as always, to Jael for the beta!

A writer has the empty page

Where he can set the scene

He puts the actors on the stage

Or on the movie screen

The characters all say the words

The writer wants to hear

And then, my friend

A happy end

-The Right Regrets, Smash

October 31, 1988

Sidney pushed up his Darth Vader mask, blinked and shook his head in confusion. What was he doing out here in the woods after dark? On a school night?

His parents were going to kill him.

He took a step and nearly tripped over something. Looking down, he recoiled in fear. What was Ray doing on the ground, sprawled next to his bike?

Sidney dropped to his knees to shake his twin. "Ray? Ray? Please don't be dead." His voice became shrill when Ray didn't answer. "Please don't be dead!"

"Relax, kid," a man's voice rumbled in the darkness. "He ain't dead. Just sleeping it off."

Sidney peered nervously at the tall figure emerging from the trees into the light of the nearly full moon. "Who are you?"

The man chuckled. "No one you need to worry about."

He squatted down in front of the boys, a big man with a shaved head, wearing an army jacket. He looked down at Ray and shook his head. "Figures the neuralyzer would knock you out," he muttered.

Sidney's habitual derision won out over his fears. "My brother's a wuss."

The stranger's head jerked up, and he fixed Sidney with a stare. "Funny. You were the one sounding like a wuss just a minute ago. 'Please don't be dead,' isn't that what you said?"

The words were mocking, but the tone was not. Still, Sidney tried to muster a bit of bravado. "Just 'cause I don't like him doesn't mean I want him to be dead."

The man snorted and raised an eyebrow. "That so? There might be some smarts in the Palmer family tree after all. C'mon. Let's get you two home."

"My parents say we're not supposed to go with strangers," Sidney said, hovering over his brother protectively.

"Bet you're not supposed to be in the woods this late either," the man said, his words punctuated by a distant wolf's howl that made Sidney start in fear. "You can take your chances with me, or with the big bad wolf out there. Your choice, kid."

Sidney considered for a moment, then moved back so the big man could scoop his brother off the ground. The cape from Ray's superhero costume trailed over the man's arm like a red flag as he rose again.

Sidney got to his feet and grabbed the handlebars of the bike. As he set it back on its wheels, he frowned. "Goddammit, Ray!"

"Kids in these parts start cussing early," the strange man observed as he shifted Ray in his arms. "My dad woulda washed my mouth out with soap if I'd'a said that when I was six."

"I'm seven!" Sidney objected.

Another one of those chuckles. "Ah, so you're a big man now, aren't you? What's wrong, anyway?"

"Ray took my bike tonight. And look, the back tire has a flat now." Of course it was the back tire, which was more work to fix.

The man glanced over at the damage, grunted and started walking. "You can make him fix it in the morning. Come on."

Sidney shook his head. "No way. Whenever Ray tries to fix something he makes it worse."

The man stopped walking and let out a harsh laugh. "Some things never change!"

He readjusted his burden and started walking again. Sidney followed, trundling the bike over the uneven ground. Whenever he tripped over a rock or caught his foot on a tree root, he'd mutter an insult at his unconscious brother, and a couple of times let loose with some of the curses he'd heard from the older boys at Little League practice, even if he didn't understand what all of them meant.

After a few minutes of this, a low rumble sounded in the big man's throat. "Pretty harsh things you're sayin' there, kid. You really hate your brother that much?"

Sidney blinked. Did he hate Ray? Not really wanting to examine that thought too closely, he fired back a question. "Do you have a brother?"

The man paused for just a moment, and then grunted again. "I had one. And we sometimes said and did things to each other that were even worse than the stuff you're saying. Difference is, we knew what we were saying." He trudged on, and then said, "Worse, sometimes we meant what we were saying. I wish I could take some of those things back. But he's dead now, so I never can."

He glanced over at Sidney. "Don't be like me, kid."

Sidney had no answer for that.

Eventually they emerged from the woods. The crowds of trick-or-treaters that had been out earlier in the evening were gone, probably all at home making themselves sick on Nerds and Reese's Pieces. The ruins of a smashed jack-o'-lantern were scattered on the street in front of the Palmer house.

They climbed the front steps, and the man gently settled Ray on the porch swing, leaving him sitting up with his head lolling backward. "Sleep tight, Haircut," he said softly.

Sidney frowned. "Mister, who are you?"

The man rose, pulling something from the pocket of his army jacket. "No one you need to remember, kid," he said.

A bright light flashed in Sidney's eyes.

Mick caught the now-unconscious boy before he could fall onto the porch. "Now who's the wuss?" he chuckled.

He put Sidney onto the swing next to his twin, the make-believe villain and the future hero propping each other up. In the morning, Mom and Pop Palmer would think their sons had snuck out for some late-night trick or treating. The boys would probably get in some trouble, but better than what they'd have gotten if they hadn't returned that baby Dominator.

He took a step back, then smirked a little and pulled his smartphone from his pocket. He snapped a photo of the sleeping boys, then tucked the phone away. "See you in a couple of decades, Haircut," he murmured. "And maybe that brother of yours will remember what I told him."

TBC...