#ccweek2018

“I suppose you’re expecting a thank you.” His keen eyes remain focused on her as her own gaze roams. He’s dressed entirely in black, the only skin she can see his face and where his long fingers hook into the pockets of his tight jeans.

“Hardly,” his smooth voice draws her attention back to his face, lips curved in a smirk as he pushes away from the wall. “Gideon sent me out to find you.”

Her attention turns curiously back to the woman at her side, “Let’s get you back on your feet, then we can answer whatever questions you may have.”

“I’m fine,” she swings her legs over the opposite side of the bed, absently noticing that she’s never seen the cargo pants and baggy shirt she’s wearing. The observation is short lived as her leg attempts to give out beneath her.

A cool hand catches her arm, waiting until she’s steady to release her. Part of her is unnerved at how quickly the man was able to move, the other part is too distracted by his eyes. His brow is furrows in something dangerously close to concern, and she quickly pulls away with a mumbled, “thanks.”

“Just didn’t want to have to pick you up off the floor.” He replies with an uninterested shrug. But still remains within arm’s reach of her.

“Leonard,” Gideon draws both of their attention. “Why don’t you take Sara for a walk on the grounds?” she motions out the door, “Then Rip and I can explain things in the study?” she turns her attention to Sara, “If you do not oppose?”

Sara shrugs, “Can’t see why not.” She glances back at Leonard, “he seems as safe as anyone right now.”

“Then it’s settled!” Gideon claps her hands together, smiling at them. “We’ll see you soon.”

Leonard motions toward the door and while having him behind her is not ideal, she wants out of the room. He moves to walk silently beside her, and she allows herself to admire the paintings and photos lining the walls. Footsteps pull her attention back up as a brunette approaches them.

“Lenny!” the girl grins, then turns her attention to Sara. “And Sara, right?”

As she gets closer Sara can see the small fangs in her smile. “That’s right…and you’re?”

“Lisa,” the woman offers her hand. “I’m Leonard’s sister.”

Sara accepts the gesture, again surprised at the difference in temperature. “It’s nice to meet you…I think.”

Lisa just laughs, eyes sparkling with a life Sara didn’t know was possible in her kind. She turns to her brother, “I’ll catch you later.” She presses a swift kiss to his cheek before dancing away.

They begin walking once more, and she glances up at her escort. “This isn’t what I pictured Coven’s looking like.”

She gets a short chuckle in return. “This is not a coven Miss Lance.” There’s a hint of real amusement in his features, “and most of the team here would take insult to being called such.” He indicates his head to a room on their right, and she follows him in.

It’s a gathering room, with couches and recliners spread around a large TV. As they enter a large man rises from one of the cushioned seats to approach them. He’s the opposite of the one beside her, his jeans and shirt loose fitting and crumpled. He radiates a heat and energy that Sara is familiar with, a slow anger building as light reflects off something around the man’s neck.

“Sara,” Leonard speaks from her side, “Meet Mick Rory, our-“

“Werewolf,” Sara finishes, looking up at the man who’s watching her curiously. “Collared like a family pet,” she growls.

“I like this one,” Mick grins, “She’s got fire.” He looks back down at her, “But the collar ain’t a form of ownership Blondie.”

“I made it,” a new woman, dark skin and jet black hair, steps up beside them. She only reaches his shoulders but has a powerful presence all the same. “It has properties to help keep his…hotter emotions…manageable.”

He smiles down at her, “Saves a bunch on clothes,”

The new figure turns back to her, “It is good to see you awake.” She rests a hand over her chest, “I’m Amaya,”

“You’re…not a wolf or a vampire.” Sara looks at her curiously.

“No, I’m a practitioner of the old arts.” She offers a wry smile, “Or a witch, by most people’s standards.” She shrugs, “But aside from a little magic, I’m quite human.”

“An android, two vampires, a werewolf and a witch co-existing…The more I see the less I understand,” she frowns.

“Refuge is a place for outcasts.” Mick shrugs, “all kinds of us ‘ere.”

“You hardly strike me as the type to be tossed aside by society,” she gives Leonard a side glance.

He’s smirking at her again, but there’s something self-depreciating this time. “You’d be surprised.” He motions back to the main hall, “Come, I’m sure Rip and Gideon are waiting.”

“Lead the way,” she motions, following him out.

She doesn’t realize she’s started to limp until he’s slowed to walk beside her. “Perhaps touring the grounds was not the best of ideas with your injuries.”

“I’ve managed with worse.” She glares, and he just watches her with a distant curiosity, but doesn’t move from his place alongside her.

The next room they enter appears to be a lab, a young man turning from one of the tables as they enter. “Snart! Good, I was hoping you could –” he trails off as Sara comes into view. “Ah, I see the newest guest is on the mend.”

“This is Sara,” Leonard replies.

“Oh!” he gives her a blinding grin. “I’m Raymond, but everyone calls me Ray.”

“Human,” Sara raises a brow.

“100%” he nods.

“So what’s your story?” she asks, looking around the room. “This seems like a strange place for a man of science.”

Before he can answer a new voice comes from a second doorway. “Ray, are you done with that plant yet? Amaya want’s it back.” Sara’s attention is caught as the light reflects off twin pairs of sheer wings on the woman’s back. They flutter impatiently as she stands with arms crossed, inky hair pulled back to reveal her dark eyes and features. She gives Sara a half-glare, “What are you looking at? Never seen a fairy before?”

“Zari, be nice!” Ray half sings as he turns, “Lily went to water it, I’ll take you to her.” He turns back to wave at Sara, “It was nice meeting you Sara!”

As Leonard leads her toward another doorway she looks back. “I’m not sure what I find more strange. The human size fairy, or the scientist in a hideaway for the supernatural.”

“Well, Dr. Frankenstein is the reason Zari is our size. She can also be small, and it’s far more irritating.” Len makes a distasteful face before shaking his head.

Sara stops, staring at Leonard’s back in surprise. “Wait, did you say Frankenstein…as in the Frankenstein?”

He turns, amusement in his eyes. “A descendent yes.” He frowns, “apparently attempting to conquer death runs in the family. It’s why he’s here.” Leonard motions forward, and they resume walking. “Raymond’s fiancé was killed, and so, struck with grief he decided to bring her back.” He shakes his head, “It failed, but was enough to catch Rip’s attention…which is a story I will let him tell.”

“Okay…so if there’s not a monster, then why is he still here?” Her body is beginning to ache, and she attempts to focus more fully on the conversation.

“The scientific community aren’t huge fans of his work. And, despite his painfully bright personality, he’s good to have around. In fact, he and the other resident science geek, Lily, are the ones who made Gideon’s current form,”

“And Lily, is she?” she cocks her head.

“Also human. Rip rescued her from a changeling nest, she’s grown up here.” He offers a half smile, “She’s some of the more tolerable company in this place.”

If he says anything else Sara misses it, her attention captured entirely by the immense library they’ve stepped into. Sunlight comes in from windows, many of which have reading nooks tucked neatly inside. Two figures rise from a table at the center of the room as they approach. One Sara recognizes as Gideon; the other, a thin man with sharp eyes and short hair in disarray, is unfamiliar.

“Hopefully Leonard was not to terrible of company,” the man has a distinctly British accent, brown duster shifting as he approaches.

Sara offers a half smile, “I’ve spent time with worse.”

“And with that,” he offers a half bow, “I have other matters to attend to.” He gives Sara one last look, “Miss Lance.” And then he’s gone.

“Vampires, they do enjoy their dramatic exits.” The other man shakes his head, making a sweeping motion toward the table. “I’m Rip, the head of this..”

“Household.” Gideon finishes as Sara sits across from her. “Dysfunctional as it may seem.” She has that little half smile again.

Rip nods, “And we’d like you to join us.” He settles next to Gideon once more, “But I’m sure you have questions, so please,” he makes an open gesture before him.

“Who are you?” she narrows her gaze, “How did you find me?”

He chuckles, “By trade I am a Hunter, one of Van Helsing’s line.” She tenses, and he waves a hand dismissively before them. “But I assure you I mean no harm.” He offers a depreciative laugh, “I have not been part of the order for many years.” He motions to the woman at his side, “As for locating you, it’s one of Gideon’s skills.”

“I am able to sense out non-human lifeforms using a vast array of information alongside my algorithms and probabilities.” Gideon picks up, “It is how I located you, and also how we knew you were not like the others of your pack.” She frowns, “I just wish we could have reached you sooner.”

Sara shakes her head, “I would not have come.” She gazes out one of the windows, “Even now there is a pull…to return to them, even though I know it would end poorly.” Her attention shifts back to Rip. “But why leave hunting?” her gaze narrows, “Why walk away from that to build this place?”

“Have you ever been in love Miss Lance?” he asks in return, sadness in his eyes.

“Yes…I think.” She frowns, “But that’s hardly an answer.”

“On the contrary, it is entirely the answer.” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it in some disarray. “I fell in love with a woman, we were married, had a beautiful son.” He sighs, “But eventually the order learned she was not human,” there’s darkness in his eyes, “And they took my family from me.”

“I’m sorry,” she drops her head slightly, “I didn’t-“

“It’s quite alright,” he gives a small smile, and she notices how Gideon’s hand has moved to cover one of his on the table. “But that is why I made this place. Somewhere that others like Miranda; who are victims, not monsters, can live.”

She looks down to where her hands fidget against the table, and then back up to the pair before her. “You must understand, this is a lot to process.”

“Of course,” Rip nods, “Life in the Refuge is very much different than any home you have had.”

“We do not expect an answer now, only that you think on it.” Gideon offers her an encouraging smile, “Come, we have a room you can stay in while you decide.”

Sara takes the offered hand, allowing the woman to lead her up a set of stairs and down a door lined hall. “How many of you live here?”

Gideon shrugs, “It varies.” She motions to one of the doors, “Leonard likely introduced you to most of our full time residents. But there are a few that are in and out.” She motions to Sara’s clothes, “Kendra was kind enough to offer her clothing while she is away.” She shakes her heads, “Shifters do not settle anywhere very long, but she and Carter will be back I’m sure.”

Gideon stops, unlocking door and allowing it to swing open. “I must insist you remain with us until your wound has healed; but regardless of your final choice the manor is at your disposal for as long as you wish to stay.”

Sara nods, and Gideon leaves her with her thoughts. Rip is waiting when she reaches the main platform, his mouth set in a thin line. “Will she stay?”

“I cannot be sure,” Gideon shrugs, “But I do not believe she has many options.”

“I do not want to frighten her, but she is in a great deal of danger.” He sighs, “Phoenix are a rare breed, and their power is sought out by Hunters and creatures alike. The wolves already know of her existence, it is only a matter of time before others join.”

He’d told Mick that day, even if they didn’t normally do feelings, and Mick was the one to sway him from telling Lewis. His plan had been to rub his father’s face in it, but Mick brought up the very good point that Lewis was the type of man to somehow twist this around and use it as torture. So instead he had gone to a drugstore and shoplifted some concealer from the make-up aisle, just to wear at home.

He got into a habit of pulling out a flashlight on nights when he couldn’t sleep, watching the steady heartbeat of his soul mate until he was lulled into a peaceful unconsciousness.

He went on like that for years. Watching that line on his wrist got him through countless trips to both Juvie and prison, not to mention the remaining time that he lived with Lewis. Whenever things were tough he could always rely on that heartbeat, the assurance that his soul mate was out there.

For the most part the line was the same, steady, rhythm of a calm heart. He noticed that it wasn’t particularly uncommon for it to start moving faster at certain times of the day, especially as the years went on, and so he concluded that whoever his soul mate is they must be fairly active. Sometimes when he was locked up and had nothing else to do he would lie on his bunk pretending to read, but really he would be trying to guess what it was his soul mate was doing that got their heart beating so fast. It had to be some kind of sport, he concluded, as even when racing the line of his mark was still steady, and the increased speed only lasted for an hour or two at a time. That’s how it was, for years, until one week it wasn’t.

He wasn’t concerned that the line had stopped moving fast, that could be easily explained. The fact that it was far slower moving than normal was what had him worried. As he watched it at night, trying to fall asleep on his prison bunk, he found himself holding his breath after one beat finished, the next one following too long after.

If only he could have known it was just the beginning.

Following that week the line did pick back up to steady, and then so fast he was worried, then steady, slow, fast, faster, slower, etc. His soul mate’s heartbeat had become impossible to predict, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what could be the cause. He was always worried about it to some extent, but eventually this became the new normal for his mark. Unpredictable, but always there, always beating.

Until one day it wasn’t.

He’d gotten into the habit of looking at it in the mornings, to make sure it wasn’t concernedly low or fast, not that he had any idea what he might do if it were. So he pulled up his sleeve in his morning routine, and felt his own heart freeze.

The line was straight.

He just stared at it for an immeasurable amount of time, holding his breath and waiting for the little v’s to come crawling their way through the line, but they never came. They were gone; his soul mate was dead.

Mick was the only person he told, as he had gone through the same torment years ago. He’d tried his best to comfort Mick back then, but now he knew something like this hurt far deeper than he ever could have imagined. He lived with the pain for over a year, assumed he would live with it all his life, until one day whilst he was in the shower his mark caught his eye, and he froze.

It was beating.

The v patterns were appearing steadily, like they had for so many years. Somehow, his soul mate was alive.

So, why is he having such a hard time bringing himself to look down at his wrist now, if his soul mate is in fact alive?

It’s because he thinks he might have finally found her.

They’ve only been on The Waverider for a few weeks, their latest attempt to stop Savage ending in them getting their asses handed to them yet again. This time was worse than any of the other’s though, for Sara at least, and she’s currently unconscious in the med bay and hooked up to a heart monitor; the display on the screen a perfect match to the one on his wrist.

It all makes sense.

He was fifteen when his mark finally appeared, the same number of years that are between the two of them. The periodic quickening of her heart at specific times of the day that only increased as the years went on, it coincides perfectly with a schedule of the dance lessons she’s said she took as a child and into varsity sports during the same years she would’ve been in high school. The period that the heartbeat on his wrist became unpredictable is the exact same as when she said she was on that boat. The year she was dead the same that his mark went flat, and the mirror image now.

It can’t not be her.

He used to think about the day he’d meet his soul mate, but after everything he had stopped truly believing the day would ever come. Now that he’s here, now that she’s here, he isn’t sure if he should do anything about it.

Sara has suspected for a while now that Snart might be her soul mate. She gets along better with him than she does with anyone else on this ship, not that that is sufficient evidence to put him has her soul mate. Her first real clue came one night during their third round of war, when they stumbled onto the topic of marks and he mentioned his didn’t appear until he was in high school, and she casually mentioned that she isn’t such a rare case, as she was born with hers.

But if he was in high school and there are fifteen years between them… the math checks out.

That was her first clue, her second came later, after a mission gone south landed her in the med bay. Suddenly he avoided the topic of marks at any and all costs, as well as picked up a habit of throwing his cards down with his left hand. He also started reaching for their shared bottles of whiskey, the glasses, basically anything that ever involved him moving his hand within close proximity to her, all with his left hand. It was like he didn’t want to risk the cuff of his right sleeve moving even an inch, like he didn’t want her seeing his mark.

The thing that cinched it for her, though, was the engine room.

They were freezing, too cold to move and huddling together for whatever warmth they could manage. With her head pressed to his chest and hands curled into the fabric of his sweater she had taken notice her own mark had begun to move slowly, much slower than she had ever seen it before, and in perfect sync with the sound of Leonard’s heartbeat against her ear.

“Leonard,” her voice had come out in a weak rasp, and he barely hummed in acknowledgment. They were minutes from death, if they even had that long, and she needed to know.

Then, as if on cue, Ray fixed the hole.

They never talked about it, not really. They were silent as they let their limbs thaw and the next thing she knew they were facing Mick’s betrayal. After everything was said and done and Mick was gone Leonard came to her room that night, looking utterly defeated, and there was a silent understanding that passed between them at the door.

He knew.

She knew.

He would only come in if she wanted him to.

She did.

After that night they found themselves in some odd in-between sort of relationship. They each knew what they were supposed to be to one another, they each felt it, but things were messy and complicated.

She would give anything to get that time back.

“Get him out of here.”

“No.” Her response is quick, final, and desperate. What the Time Masters are doing is awful, controlling every person who ever lived as though they’re nothing more than pawns in an elaborate game of chess. It needs to be stopped, but this can’t be the way. After everything they’ve been through, both separately and together, it can’t end here.

“Just do it.”

He’s pleading with her, and she can feel the moisture starting in her eyes as it sinks in that there is no other way. This is bigger than they are, and after leaving Mick to die once he isn’t about to do it again. It has to be him.

Stupid hero bastard.

She goes over to him, up the steps to The Oculus and presses her lips to his in a desperate kiss, trying to convey everything she never said into the action. When they finally have to part he holds her gaze, dragging out their last few seconds together before they have to be warriors again and she has to go.

Later, on the ship, with the ruins of The Oculus vanishing behind them Sara shuts herself in her room and yanks down the sleeve of her jacket. It will destroy her if she sees a flat line, but she has to know.

She let’s out a choked and startled sob as she falls to her knees, there is no flat line to greet her; there is nothing but the blank canvas of her skin.

They destroyed The Oculus, the Time Masters, and their control. They returned free will to the world. No more strings, no more destiny.