In which Len discovers that relaxing for a couple of days just isn't on the agenda.

This chapter takes place at the end of Legends S1E8 Night of the Hawk and during most of S1E9 Left Behind.

All characters copyright DC, CW, etc.

Leonard soon grew restless and gave up on reading. He found it hard to relax under the best of circumstances, and despite Rip's reassurance, he was still shaken by the recent events.

What he needed was a change of scenery; as much as the idea of having free reign in Rip's private library appealed to him, waiting out his recovery in there, even doing so willingly to stave off boredom, felt too much like confinement. And Leonard had never done well in confinement.

But there was Gideon's order. Remain within the Waverider's shields. That, and the suggestion to wait out his recovery in the temporal zone.

It hadn't been enough to advise him to relax, he'd been all but forbidden to leave the ship until the particles were out of his system. The implications of that order betrayed Rip's promise for the lie it had been.

He wandered around the ship, without a single care for where his feet carried him, until he found himself back on the Waverider's deck and gazed out at the woods beyond.

He took a deep breath. If he closed his eyes he could almost smell the pine on the breeze...

He opened one eye. "I thought you couldn't read our thoughts?" he drawled.

"I didn't need to," Gideon replied. "According to my databanks, humans of your era commonly use the pine scent to alleviate anxiety. Given your predisposition to a panic disorder, I thought simply opening the vents to allow a natural breeze might aid in your recovery."

"It helps a little," Leonard admitted. "Though I notice you didn't deny trying to sneak a peek."

But Gideon had fallen silent.

Leonard shook his head and settled in by the window in front of the captain's chair. He glanced at the book in his hands, but he wasn't ready to open it up again just yet and he tossed it on the ledge.

Besides, the window ledge wasn't exactly conducive to getting himself lost in another book; aesthetically it was almost perfect, but his arm was still sore and the room wasn't designed for the kind of physical comfort the activity demanded.

Footsteps sounded behind him before he could change his mind. He turned away from the window to see Jefferson approaching.

"Well, look who's up and around," Leonard said.

"Mmm, yeah," Jefferson groaned. He wandered the deck for a moment before stopping in front of the thief. "I guess I owe you an apology. Grey told me about what happened back at the asylum. You had the chance to kill me, and... you didn't."

Leonard turned away until he could see the woods in the corner of his eyes, until he could pretend he didn't see the look in the kid's eyes. In... hold for three... out….

"After last night," Jefferson continued, "I know enough about being a monster to know that you're not one."

Leonard rolled his eyes. What was it with these "heroes" and their dramatics? Couldn't they ever talk like normal people? The thief liked to put on a show now and then, but even on his worst days he knew it for an act; the heroes, on the other hand, always seemed to buy into their own games. "Stop, I'm getting misty-eyed."

"I just want you to know... about what happened with Rory?" Jefferson said. "I get it. You were protecting us."

Leonard looked up, startled, to meet Jefferson's gaze.

"It doesn't make you a murderer, it makes you a part of this team."

"Jefferson, you should be resting!" Martin said.

Leonard let out a small breath. Finally. Always the drama with these people.

And Gideon maintained her silence, which meant she didn't find Jefferson's nonsense—or maybe it was Rip who'd put him up to it—at all detrimental to his or the kid's recovery.

"Aw, man, I'm... I'm done laying around!" Jefferson protested. "I just want to get the hell out of Mayberry."

"Agreed," Leonard said. "We're just waiting on Sara and the two lovebirds to get back. Seems they've taken quite a shine to 1958."

An explosion nearly threw them off of their feet, and the three rushed for the nearest walls to brace themselves.

"What on earth?" Martin said.

Rip stumbled his way to the central console. "Gideon?"

Leonard pushed himself off of the wall and joined the captain. The monitor displayed a familiar suit of armor brandishing a laser rifle.

"Not this guy again," the thief snarled.

Alarms blared as the bounty hunter continued to fire.

"Captain," Gideon said, "Chronos has breached the starboard hatch."

"How is that possible?" Martin shouted.

"Clearly he's received some new toys from our Time Master friends," Rip said, "since our last encounter. Gideon! Seal the bulkheads from here until—"

A laser beam knocked the captain to the floor.

Leonard fired his cold gun at the bounty hunter, distracting him from the unarmed Jefferson and Martin while Rip regained his feet and fired his laser pistol.

Leonard fired again. Will you two hurry up and merge already? They'd all seen Chronos fight once before; two against one was not good odds in the team's favor.

"Grey, come on!" Jefferson yelled. "Let's do this!"

"If we merge on the Waverider," Martin insisted, "we could destroy the entire ship!"

Like Chronos isn't doing that already?

"Um, are you not paying attention to what Chronos is doing?" Jefferson replied.

Chronos took aim at the kid. Leonard jumped from cover, and Chronos turned to fire at the thief. Leonard darted back, near enough to feel the heat from the laser blast.

"Fall back!" Rip ordered. "Get to the jump ship!"

Leonard kept his gun trained on the bounty hunter until he could see Jefferson and Martin make their escape, then he turned and ran down the corridor after them.

"Hey, come on!" Jefferson yelled, far ahead of their group.

"You sure it was a good idea leaving the Terminator on the bridge?" Leonard snarled.

"Gideon has lockdown protocols," Rip said, "which—"

"Have been overridden, Captain," Gideon replied. "Chronos is utilizing superior Time Master technology. I cannot countermand his orders."

The ship rumbled beneath them.

"He's time jumping the ship," Rip said.

Thank you, captain obvious. "The ladies will be left in 1958," Leonard protested.

"What about Ray?" Jefferson asked.

"Like I said!"

"Let's go!" Rip called. He brandished his pistol and raced back towards the bridge. "We have to stop him!"

Leonard was right behind him, while the dynamic duo panted along in the back.

Rip groaned and braced himself against wall as the Waverider continued to rock under their feet. He held up his pistol. "Gideon! Open the doors on my mark." He looked back at Martin as the older man struggled to keep up. "Get to the jump ship and escape."

"We are not abandoning you!" Martin protested.

"No," Rip said, "you are obeying a direct order from your captain!"

Martin and Jefferson exchanged a glance, then, with a nod, ran back the way they had come.

Leonard watched until they were out of sight, and gave Rip a nod.

"Now, Gideon," Rip muttered.

The door slid open, and Leonard and Rip ran for the nearest piece of cover and began firing at the bounty hunter.

The two continued to circle the room, searching for new angles to strike at Chronos and diving for cover when he shot back. Their luck had only lasted this long because the bounty hunter had waited until morning to strike; the cold gun had had plenty of time to recharge. But there was no telling how much the Time Masters had upgraded his weapons, how long he could keep up the battle.

A laser beam struck Leonard in the right shoulder, in the same spot the warlord had shot him in the necropolis months ago. The cold gun fell from nerveless fingers, and the thief was thrown to the ground with a force that felt like being kicked in the chest by a mule.

"Mr. Snart!" Rip called. "Are you—" a grunt as Chronos fired at the captain again. "Are you all right?"

Leonard's wheezing was loud in own his ears, loud enough he imagined the sound should have been answer enough. He fumbled with his left arm for the cold gun, but a metal booted foot entered his vision and kicked it away before stepping on his left knee.

And then... burning, five point two centimeters below the kneecap, in the same spot Mick had shot him well over a decade ago during one of their many fallings-out. Leonard writhed as the sensation became one endless stream of pain, but he couldn't get enough oxygen even to scream. His vision turned grey and then, eventually, mercifully black.

—MAJUMMED: CATALYST—

Leonard's instinct for danger forced him awake all at once, and he found himself in one of the most uncomfortable of sleeping positions: shackled to a post that only just reached his waist. He pulled at the shackles, but they were tighter than anything from his era and he couldn't identify so much as a lock to pick.

Footsteps approached before he could contort himself to give the shackles a more thorough examination. The thief jerked his head around to spot Chronos striding his way.

Leonard yanked at the shackles a few more times, and cringed against the wall as the bounty hunter walked past.

Chronos simply ignored him.

"Uh... hello?" he finally made himself say.

"A UFO sighting in 1960 has created a time anomaly," Chronos said. "It looks like your friends survived."

"And what would they be doing in 1960?" Leonard asked.

But Chronos had gone back to ignoring him.

The silence dragged on before Leonard sighed. Normally being ignored meant being safe, but that was obviously not the case here. "So, uh... what's so special about me?" he asked. "I mean, aside from my sparkling personality." His gaze darted around the corridor as he examined everything in reach. "Back on the Waverider, you could've taken your boy, Rip. But you took me, instead. Why?"

Chronos remained silent.

"Hey, if you're gonna kill me, you could at least tell me what's going on."

"You should've figured it out by now," Chronos replied. He removed his helmet and walked forward to crouch in front of the thief. "After all, I am supposed to be the dumb one."

Leonard stared at the figure before him, but try as he might, he couldn't persuade himself that his partner—his friend—was a figment of his imagination. "How?"

Chronos—Mick!—continued to gaze back at him with the calm expression he'd only ever worn when watching a blaze.

"I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on here!" Leonard growled.

"You deserve nothing," Mick said.

"Says the man who sold us out to the pirates!" Leonard spat. Some small part of his mind noticed the terrible irony that it was now Mick, and Mick alone, who was keeping his cool. "When I dropped you off in that forest, I meant to kill you. That was the plan."

"You should've stuck with the plan," Mick replied, "and done me a favor."

"I may not have trusted you on the ship with the team," Leonard said, "but I always, always was coming back for you!"

"Seems like one of us lost track of time," Mick said.

"Well, how long did you—"

"By the time they found me," Mick roared, with a rage that was all the more terrifying after his earlier calm, "I'd nearly lost my mind! I was so weak, I was strangling rats to survive."

What? But they were on a time machine. Leonard couldn't have failed to retrieve him... and for how long?

"When who found you?"

Mick glanced away, the first sign of fear he'd offered since abducting the thief. "The Time Masters," he replied. He stood up and walked back to the center of the bridge. "They took me to a place called the Vanishing Point. Time doesn't exist there the way it does on Earth. I've spent lifetimes being restored by them, training by them, fighting by them... being reborn."

Lifetimes... oh, my friend, what have they done to you? Leonard grimaced. What have I done to you? "And, uh, when exactly did your new friends give you the, uh, lobotomy?"

Mick walked around the center console and stood over the thief. "You think I was hunting you and your friends because the Time Masters made me?" he asked. "They barely had to ask." He returned to the central console.

"Look, if you're gonna kill me," Leonard said, "just do it already."

"I'm not gonna kill you," Mick said.

Leonard couldn't even pretend to find that reassuring.

"I'm gonna take a trip back to Central City and visit your baby sister."

Leonard stared in horror as Lisa's face appeared on several of the monitors.

"The beautiful thing about time travel," Mick continued, "is I get to kill her more than once." He turned around to stare down at the thief. "I can kill Lisa in front of you, go back in time, kill her in front of you again and again and again."

Leonard yanked at the shackles once more, but it was no use. He slumped against the wall, his fight gone.

"Sir," a male voice said over the speakers, "several anomalies in the timeline suggest that the Waverider has touched down in Nanda Parbat."

"Chart a course," Mick ordered. "I used to think the most beautiful thing on Earth was fire. Now I know it's vengeance."

Leonard choked back a sob.

Mick didn't even spare him a glance.

Probably just as well. For if the arsonist realized that the tears dripping down Leonard's face were real, that even the threat to his baby sister had been enough to well and truly break him, well...

The thief feared to add more fuel to that particular fire. So he sat there and tried to keep quiet as he wept, for Lisa, for his friends on the Waverider... and for Mick.

Linked fics:
The injury to Len's knee courtesy of a (yet to be written/posted) scene in the Flash Sideways prequel What Could Have Been. The previous injury to his (right) shoulder due to the fight in the ficlet Necropolis.
Both included because "You should've figured it out by now"... um, why exactly should he have figured out? I mean, besides the part of about Chronos kidnapping Len and nobody else (which was, of course, the very thing that Len found confusing), what clues would have reasonably allowed our favorite thief to realize that Mick and Chronos were one and the same? Did I miss something from previous encounters with the bounty hunter? So in order to add clues of my own, I alluded to those events in the sense of having Chronos deliberately strike areas that nobody outside of the team should realize are old injuries and thus more vulnerable than they might be on anyone else.