#ficcingcaptaincanary

               “You poisoned her?” he growled, kneeling at her side.

               “Of course not,” Gideon replied indignantly, “She likely got it eating something off board during your most recent mission.”

               “Local gave me some fruit.” Sara rasped, coughing slightly before sitting back on her heels. He offered a cup of water which she took gratefully, rinsing out her mouth before taking the cool rag to her face. “Thanks Len,”

               “Don’t mention it,” He placed the cup back on the sink before moving behind her. He managed to get her hair in a loose braid before the nausea returned. Once it passed he gently tugged against her until she sank back against him. “I’ve got you,” he soothed.

               She turned, offering him a tired smile. “I know,” she rests her head against his shoulder. “You always do.”

               She dozes against him, but doesn’t manage a restful sleep until another round of dry heaves has passed. Leonard had moved so his back was against the wall, lets outstretched with Sara curled up against his chest. Each breath dancing across his collar, and her weight having long put his legs to sleep. Still, he didn’t dare move for fear of waking her, instead allowing his own eyes to drift shut.

               His mind wanders, and suddenly the world shifts. When his eyes open he’s in the bed that he and Sara share; her head on his shoulder as she traces her fingers over his bare chest. She’s giving him an easy, sated smile. Her legs tangling with his as she continues sketching with a featherlight touch. He’s just about to lean over and kiss her when he’s pulled out of his dream by the real Sara shifting slightly against him. He groans, tilting his head back against the wall as he pushes away the images.

               When he’d been rescued most of the things he’d seen in the timestream had faded or been forgotten entirely. But the things he’d seen with Sara were slower to dissipate. And he’d seen so much. He knew they hadn’t been all from the same future, instead it was moments from countless possible timelines.

Her grinning as she and Mick slid into the escape car after a successful heist.

Felt her hand in his as they stepped over the threshold of a little cabin, a place to live quietly.

Brining her coffee as she poured over papers in the Captain’s study, the light bouncing off the silver streaks in her hair.

Heard her laugh as the children, the children they had adopted, ran to greet him after a day helping Team Flash.

Felt her in his arms as they fell asleep aboard the ship together each night.

He’d heard her gasp as he knelt down before her, velvet box in hand.

“Yeah.” He lifts an eyebrow at Snart. “You gonna play mother hen again?”

Snart’s lips twitch. It’s Sara’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh?” she says inquisitively. “Do I want to know about this?”

“Boss here used to make sure that Lisa ate something other than junk and sometimes he forgot that his responsibility didn’t extend to other adults.” He modulates his voice into a Snart-like drawl. “Mick, beer is not a food group. Mick, did you buy anything with a main ingredient that isn’t salt or sugar? Mick, where the fuck are the vegetables?”

He’s trying to annoy the other man, but Snart just looks amused.  “Someone,” he drawls in response, “had to be the responsible adult. You both would have lived on chips and soda if I hadn’t stepped in, cooked something else from time to time.”

Sara looks intrigued. “Wait. You can cook?” She studies Snart like he’s just confessed to being an actual law-abiding citizen.

“More or less.” He jerks a finger at Mick. “And he’s acting the asshole, but he can actually grill.”

“Well. Give me an open flame and I can do things. Sometimes they're even good things.”

“Mmm.” Sara licks her lips. “I think we need steaks, then. Something that didn’t come from Gideon’s stores and hydroponics. No offense, Gideon.”

“None taken, Mrs. Lance.” The AI’s voice actually sounds interested. “Mr. Rory, I cannot allow an open flame on the Waverider…”

“So you’ve told me…”

“…but it would do none of you any harm to, for this stop, eat some food that is different from what I can provide.” Gideon’s voice goes a touch prim again. “Although I would, as always, recommend against partaking of too much sugar, sodium, and alcohol. Not that anyone listens to me on that last, even the captain.”

“It’s OK, Gideon, at the rate we’re going, he’ll be out in a month.”

“You have not yet found it all, Mr. Snart.”

“Oh?” But the gleam in Snart’s eyes at a new challenge changes as Sara puts her hand on his arm.

“Down, boy. I want steak. And chocolate. And veggies that grew in actual dirt.”

“Hmmph.” But he backs down. Mick shakes his head in amusement.

“OK. There’s a grocery store that looks good not too far away. We can get…”

“You’re taking me with you.”

Somehow, the discussion had been involved enough that even one of the less stealthy members of the team has been able to sneak up on the three of them. Jax stands in the corridor, arms crossed, trying to look imposing but really managing only desperate.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Sara asks the air rhetorically. “Sure. More arms to carry stuff.”

Met with acceptance instead of opposition, Jax deflates. “Great. I’d do a lot to get off this ship for a while. But let’s go before Kendra finds out or she’ll want us to buy…”

“I’d want you to buy what?”

It’s almost funny how Jax freezes. OK, it is funny. Their sometimes-winged teammate eyes him with a smile, then shakes her head. “I don’t care what sort of junk you buy. But I’d kill for some fresh fruit. Or sushi. Even grocery store sushi.”

And just like that, it’s an expedition.

For a group of people who’ve been used to quick forays to dive bars and tiny, often-old-fashioned convenience stores or Mom-and-Pops – if that -- during most Waverider pit stops, the giant, modern grocery store is paradise.

Kendra starts determinedly for the produce section, while Mick heads for the meat department with Jax trailing behind. Sara mutters something about chocolate and sets out, a woman on a mission.

Snart follows her with a touch of bemusement, wondering about the last time he’s done anything even remotely this domestic. Quite a while ago, he thinks. When they—he, Mick, Lisa—had all been much younger, certainly.

By the time he’s caught up to her, Sara’s found the candy aisle and selected a bar of dark chocolate about as big as his two hands together. Perusing the selection, she shrugs and picks up another one, grinning at him. “Heaven knows when we’ll get another shopping run, right?”

“Right.”  He picks up a package of peppermint gum. “What else did you want?”

“Mick’s grabbing the steaks, right? I do want to take a look at the produce section. Maybe some beer, something different. You?”

“That all sounds good.” He shrugs. “Lead on.”

But she hesitates, just a moment. He lifts an eyebrow at her as she steps closer to him, leans in conspiratorially, and says, sotto voce, “Do we have money? Or...?”

“Sara, I haven’t shopli…” he takes a quick look around, “….acquired groceries in that fashion since I was a teenager. I have cash.”

“Ah, but was it legally obtained cash?”

“Does it matter?”

“Nope.” She grins at him…he will never stop enjoying the sight of that smile…and goes up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Humph!”

They both look around to see a sour-faced older woman glaring at them from the end of the aisle. From her entire demeanor—arms crossed, head tilted back so she can look down her nose at them—it’s abundantly clear that they’re the target of her righteous condemnation.

So it’s inevitable that Sara’s next action is to laugh, grab him by the collar of his jacket, drag his head down to hers and kiss him even more thoroughly. With tongue.

“Huummph!!!”

Now their onlooker looks downright aghast. As if two consenting adults kissing each other in the grocery store is an absolute harbinger of the end of polite society as we know it. Privately, Leonard wonders why she just doesn’t walk away.

But because a Sara Lance who’s been “humph”ed twice over PDA in a grocery store is a Sara Lance who may very well progress to jumping him right in the candy aisle, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Before she, ah, does.

Meeting her eyes—one does not surprise the assassin—he steps toward her, reaches out, and pulls her into his arms, dipping her back into a kiss that bends her nearly down to the floor. And because she’s Sara, and she’s amazingly flexible, she curves a leg up and around his waist as he does so.

“HUMPH!”

But there’s applause over the sound of disapproval, and he feels his face heat as he stands them both up, realizing that they’re acquired a smiling, although rapidly dispersing audience.  The “humph”er, apparently dismayed by public approval, is gone.

Sara is grinning from ear to ear. “Well. That was fun!” She tucks an errant piece of hair behind her ear and takes a closer look at him. “Len…you’re blushing!”

“Yeah, well, don’t tell Mick.”

“Maaayyyybe. If you make it worth my while.” She laces her fingers with his as they walk to the produce section, where she chooses a bag of locally grown apples and Leonard picks out, despite mild teasing, a few bundles of fresh asparagus that he insists they can grill with the steaks.

“Hey, look. Mick’s thinking ahead.” Sara points, and Len glances over her head to see his friend approaching them from the far end of the produce section. The other man, Jax trailing along just behind him, is pushing a cart loaded with goods from the butcher department…and a small grill and several bags of charcoal.

“That’s good. Gideon gets a little pissy if she thinks you’re asking for frivolous…crap!”

“What?” Sara spins back around. “Oooh.”

Mick’s path through the twists and turns of the produce section has been blocked. And they can both see the impending eruption from here.

If the other cart had been neatly pulled over to the side, its user standing out of the way to look at the selection of bagged salads, there would have been no issue for anyone wishing to pass. That is not the case.

Instead, the cart is parked askew in the aisle, blocking the entire thing, while its apparent user is peering at the lettuce, oblivious to the world, chatting away on his cell phone while blocking Mick and Jax from the only convenient path into the department.

As Sara and Leonard start in that direction, they can tell that Jax says something, his body language vaguely conciliatory. (Whether toward the oblivious shopper or Mick is anyone’s guess.) The man glances at him vaguely, then away, merely ratcheting up the volume on his discussion of the failings of the local football team.

Jax repeats himself. (Mick's gaze promises fire and death.) This time, the other shopper—apparently born without any innate sense of self-preservation—looks right at him...and moves the cart a bit to more thoroughly block the aisle.

Now Jax looks pissed too. Peachy. Mick's eyes are narrowed. Leonard sees him take a breath...he's not going to get there in time...

And Sara dodges in, smoothly, forcibly checking the cart out of the way, jarring Captain Oblivious into dropping his bag of spring mix. Jax grabs their cart and steers it through the gap and out of harm's way; Mick, deflating, follows with a quiet "Thanks, Blondie."

The fellow recovers, turns to glare at the small blonde who's watching him with arms folded and a steely glare. He opens his mouth...Sara's eyes narrow further...

Watching, Leonard sees the moment the fellow's hindbrain kicks in and tells him, "Oh, hell, not a good idea." The man actually takes a step backward, bumping into his cart, as he stares at Sara likes she's going to stab him with the loaf of French bread in his cart.

Sara takes another step toward him, and then, then gives him a sunny smile and turns with a little wave, strolling back to where Leonard's waiting with amusement. The whole thing takes less than a minute.

“Crisis averted. And thanks,” he sighs. “Thank god Mick doesn’t have the temper he used to.” He gives her a smile. “Can you imagine what it was like shopping with him and my sister when we were younger?”

“Well, I haven’t met your sister yet, but from what I’ve heard…you have my sympathy.”

"Thanks."

The five of them converge at the front of the store, Kendra unloading her armload of produce and sushi and chocolate chip cookies--"What?" she says—into the cart as they all pool cash and squabble over who has to wait in line.

A ruckus at the service counter, though, cuts through even that, and Sara can feel Leonard's attention being caught and held as she turns to look too.

A well-dressed man is leaning well into the space of the small woman behind the counter, spraying spittle and increasingly loud invective as he waves a receipt at her.

“I’m sorry, sir. There are no returns on these," she says gamely. "It says right on the racks. And I can return the bottled water, but it is taxed in this state. No, sir...."

Leonard's tensing and on the verge of heading over there (Sara puts a hand on his shoulder, but can't decide whether to stop him or not) when the man, red-faced and still visibly seething, throws the paper in the cashier's face and turns to walk away, into the store...then spins and fires back what he obviously thinks is a real zinger: “Get a real job, you bitch!”

The woman, her mouth a thin line that speaks as much of held-back tears as the way she’s rapidly blinking, squares her shoulders and, pasting a falsely bright smile on her face, turns back to help the next customer.

Sara sighs, and looks at Leonard, only to blink at the sheer depth of anger in his eyes.

“You know, my mother worked at a grocery store for a while,” he says shortly. “Second job, or third. Trying to make sure we could keep the power on and a few groceries in the house even when Lewis was in Iron Heights or drinking away whatever paycheck he was earning, if there was one.

“She came home more than one night utterly defeated...well, more so than she already was. People think they can treat retail workers like shit."

“You’re not kidding, man.” Jax is frowning. “My mom did that for a bit and, wow, did she have some tales."

Leonard is still studying the young woman. “My guess...she's a single mom. And a college student. Trying to juggle both and work."

Sara gives him a questioning look.

“No ring, and that pin on her smock is definitely a product of a preschool kid. And there are ink stains on her hands. She’s exhausted, and that’s not hung-over or out-partying-all-night exhaustion.” He gives her a thin smile. “I pay attention."

He looks back at the young woman and seems to come to a decision. "Jax, think you can find the front-end manager in here, get a read on him or her?

The younger man blinks. "Uh. Sure. What do you want to know?"

"Decent human being or another asshole. And if the former, rule-follower or someone who’s willing to…bend things a bit, in a good cause. Sara…” He pulls out his wallet. “Would you run over to the department store next door, get me a suit coat and a pair of reading glasses, wire rims, the weaker the better? And then set the bag just behind that display of pumpkins outdoors."

She takes the offered bills. “What are you up to?”

He just smiles. "Mick, text me when asshole there leaves. Now..."

Kendra puts up a hand. "I was a barista," she reminds him. "Customer service, remember? What can I do to help? "

"Check out with the groceries." He smiles at her. "If something goes south, you can bail us out."

With a grumbled "I never get to have any fun," Kendra goes to get in line. Sara gives Leonard one more long look, then turns to head for the department store, as Mick, chortling, heads back into the store and Jax follows him. Leonard casts a practiced look at the security cameras, then, smiling, strolls toward the exit.

Asshole leaves not long later, casually tossing abuse toward the cashier who checks out his pricey fancy beer and departing for the parking lot. A few moments later, a rather professorial type saunters back in the same set of doors.

The man who walks back into the store is obviously Leonard Snart, if you know what you're looking for, but with the leather jacket swapped out for a suit coat and wire-rimmed glasses. Watching from near the front of the store, Sara hums to herself in speculative admiration. Kendra shakes her head at her friend, but lifts an eyebrow herself, studying the crook with a faint grin on her face.

Snart circles into the store, tracing a path that lets him avoid cameras, then makes his way back to the front end, studying things momentarily before making a beeline for a middle-aged woman Jax has texted him about, who’s standing there studying what seems to be a schedule.

Sara can’t hear the first words he says to her, but she watches him extend a hand that that the woman shakes, then moves just enough to listen in.

"The young woman," he tells the manager seriously, "the one at the service counter… you should know in case he complains, but she showed great grace under fire just a little bit ago…”

Sara frowns at the anger at the woman’s face, then realizes it’s not anger at the young employee, but rage on her behalf. Jax has called their target well.

She’s missed the next few moments of conversation, but when she refocuses again, the manager is staring at Snart, holding an envelope with an expression of amazement on her face.

“Sir, this is too much…”

He shakes his head at her though, gesturing to the envelope. “Please,” Sara hears him say smoothly, “let me make someone's day. In memory of my own mother.”

The manager looks at him another moment...and then smiles. "Yes, sir," she says. "And may I say 'thank you' for doing so. She's a good worker and, well, she's had a hard time of it. Everyone needs a little hope from time to time.”

Snart agrees soberly, then nods to her, takes one more glance at the young woman, and—still avoiding video cameras—sees himself out. One by one, his compatriots follow him.

By the time they all meet outside, he’s ditched the jacket and glasses in a charity clothing bin and retrieved his own jacket from wherever he’d hidden it. The smirk, too, is firmly in place.

“Use the money from Asshole’s wallet?” Mick asks him with a mirroring smirk.

“Yep.” He brandishes the item in question. “He should’ve known better than to carry that much cash. Paid for most of our grocery run too. Prick.” He shrugs. “He was driving one of those compensating-for-something gigantic pick-up trucks. Thought about planting something, but he already had coke hidden under the passenger seat.” Distaste crosses his expression. “At any rate, the cops should be picking him up any time now. Sure they’ll be fascinated at his lack of ID.”

Mick laughs. Jax just shakes his head.

"I don't care what anyone says, Snart," he avers solemnly. "You are a hero."

"Bite your tongue, kid." But he smiles a little as Sara goes up on her toes to kiss him, and even Kendra squeezes his arm.

Leonard leaves the wallet, complete with ID and credit cards if minus cash, in the bushes on the way back to the Waverider.

When Rip, Ray, and Stein return, they find their cohorts relaxing in the park near the parked ship, steaks tended by Mick on the grill and accoutrements ready to go. Rip, appeased with the knowledge that no one had been arrested and the fact that they'd bought him a steak, rolls his eyes and breaks out a bottle of whiskey to share.

And a struggling single mom opens a card that night in her tiny apartment, small son sleeping in the next room, finds three $50 gift cards and a message of encouragement—and bursts into tears.

All in all, a good day's work.

By his left, Mick pressed the honk twice, catching Leonard’s attention. His friend had sunglasses on and he was putting on his gloves. He looked so giant in red his Alfa Romeo, it was almost comical. The two men exchanged a smirk and looked to their right, where Sara was lining up with them. She had chosen a white Bugatti and practically forced Jax to hand paint the black and white canary on the side. She was wearing gloves too, fingerless gloves for a better grip.

Leonard was so curious to see how she would be on the road, the expectation was boiling inside him. This was going to be so much fun, he could anticipate it.

“I can’t believe we’re going Fast and Furious this town!” Jax said excitedly. He would be in the second heat of Legends drivers, along with Ray and Carter.

The streets of Monaco were empty at three in the morning, which made it for a perfect race. Kendra took her position in front of the cars. She was wearing a black and white dress in the best 1920’s European fashion, and she had a handkerchief in her hand. It couldn’t get more old school than that.

Leonard lowered the passenger window of his care to call on Sara.

“Do you think that the Monaco Grand Prix will be invented because of us?” he asked and she laughed.

“You know what? Yes, I do.”

He righted himself on his seat and buckled up with a smirk. Nice. He had always imagined doing something useful to humanity, and it couldn’t get better than this. He rolled the title on his head: Leonard Snart, robber of ATMs and pioneer of the world’s greatest race. Yeah, that sounded good.

Mick started the engine of his car, which brought Leonard from his reverie. He reached for the keys on the ignition and felt the small replica of his cold gun. It had been a gift from Sara that he appreciated, but nothing was cooler than the gift he had prepared for himself.

Leonard turned the key, awaking the engine of his BMW with a loud roar, and then he pushed the K7 tape in the radio. He was aware that those types of cares didn’t even dream of having radios like those, but he was from the future and he mused to have some things from his times.

“Ready?” Kendra called raising her arms. Leonard looked at Mick and then at Sara. Alabama Shakes’ Heavy Chevy started to play, and there was no better music for that moment. “Get set.”

Sara smirked. Leonard focused on the road ahead, his feet weighting on the pedals, making the engine roar louder. The music filled the car.

“GO!”

~~*~~

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That's how it goes Everybody knows - Everybody Knows, by Leonard Cohen

Okay, down to business. I got my Black Jack gum here and I got that feeling, mmm that familiar feeling that something rank is going down up there. Yeah, I can smell it. I can almost taste it. The rankness in the air. It's everywhere. It's running through that old pipeline out there, trickling along the dumb concrete river and coming up the drains of those lovely track homes we all live in. I mean, I don't know. Everywhere I look it seems everything is sold out.

My dad sold out. And my mom sold out years ago when she took off after birthing my sister. And then he went and brought us here, to this this shitty corner of the world. He made me everything I am today, so naturally, I hate the bastard.

~~*~~

Laurel Lance sat on her bed, laptop open on her outstretched legs as she watched Captain Cold's live feed. She muted the video as her dad came into the room.

"I don't know how you get perfect grades when you're on that thing all hours of the night." Laurel felt like her smile was more of a grimace. "Don't forget that your Harvard interview is tomorrow. Don't want you looking tired. Good night, Sweetheart."

She kept the smile plastered on her face until her dad had closed her bedroom door before unmuting the video almost violently.

She didn't know why, but this Captain Cold seemed to understand her in a way her father never would.

~~*~~

I'm getting a lot of comments and private messages here. 'Dear Captain Cold, my boyfriend's giving me the cold shoulder. How do I show him that I really love him?' Why do you keep asking me for love advice? Do I seem like I have a lot of experience with relationships? If I had a girlfriend I'd be making out with her instead of talking to all you lonely freaks. 'Dear Captain, I think you're full of crap. High school isn't as bad as you make it out to be. Cheer up, buddy.' Well, you may be one of the few teenagers who doesn't hate high school, but let me tell you something, you're in the minority. You wanna know why I'm not "cheery"? I just got dragged to this dumb city. I don't have any friends, no money of my own, no car, and oh yeah, no license. I don't know what good a license would do since there's nothing to do here anyway.

~~*~~

Leonard Snart hesitantly went up to the librarian's desk in the school library, handing over the book he was returning to the cute blonde girl who was working at the desk.

"Hi," she greeted him.

"Hi," he automatically responded, adjusting his glasses.

"You're in my writing class, right?" she asked.

Leonard really wished the teacher hadn't read from his paper in today's class, drawing this girl's attention to him. Pretty girls like her made him nervous. "Uh huh."

"I like Mrs. Smoak. She's quirky." She turned away to look at his check out slip. "Now you're in trouble!" She paused dramatically. "You owe me twenty-five cents. 'How To Talk Dirty And Influence People' by Lenny Bruce. Who's he? Any good?"

Leonard shifted uncomfortably as he dug a quarter out of his pocket and handed it to her. "He's all right."

"Talk a lot?" Sara teased.

"Not too much, no," Leonard responded, making his retreat.

~~*~~

Sara pulled out a school newspaper with pictures of all the senior class in it as she watched the quiet new guy practically run from the library. She found his photo and circled it, then crossed it out. "Cute, but no way," she mused.

~~*~~

Curtain’s call Is the last of all When the lights fade out All the sinners crawl

So they dug your grave And the masquerade Will come calling out At the mess you've made

Don't wanna let you down But I am hell bound Though this is all for you Don't wanna hide the truth

No matter what we breed We still are made of greed This is my kingdom come This is my kingdom come - Demons, by Imagine Dragons

Guess who? It's ten o'clock; do you care where your parents are? After all, it's a jungle out there. I don't know. Everywhere I look it seems that someone's getting butt surfed by the system. Parents are always talking about the system, and the sixties and how cool it was. I hate the sixties, I hate school, I hate principals, I hate vice principals! But my true pure refined hatred is reserved for guidance counsellors. Captain Cold just happens to have in his very hands a copy of a memo written by Mr. Slade Wilson, guidance counselor extraordinaire to one Miss Amanda Waller, high school principal. "I found Miranda un-remorseful about her current condition." Bastard can't even say she's knocked up. "And she's unwilling to minimize its effect on the morals of the student population." Guidance counsellors! If they knew anything about career moves would they have ended up as guidance counsellors?

~~*~~

Carter Hall was sitting in front of his computer, Captain Cold's livestream open in one window with a blank Word doc open in another.

He hastily muted his computer as his mom knocked on the open door. "Carter have you finished your homework yet?"

"Yes," he somberly answered.

"Your father and I are downstairs, why don't you come and join us for once," she implored.

"No," Carter refused.

"Okay, Carter, have it your way," she said, sadly.

"Thanks," Carter said as she retreated.

Carter unmuted his computer as he typed: Dear Captain Cold, do you think I should kill myself?

~~*~~

I took the pistol and I shot out all the lights I started running in the middle of the night The law ain't never been a friend of mine I would kill again to keep from doing time You should never ever trust my kind

I'm a wanted man I got blood on my hands Do you understand I'm a wanted man - I'm a Wanted Man, by Royal Deluxe

Send me your most pathetic moment, your most anything, as long as it's real. I mean I want the size, the shape, the feel, the smell. I want blood, sweat, and tears in these messages. I want brains and ectoplasm all over them. Hallelujah! And now, all my chilly listeners, get comfy because my White Canary is back. "Come in. Every night you enter me like a criminal. You break into my brain, but you're no ordinary criminal. You put your feet up, you drink your mug of hot chocolate, you start to party, you turn up my stereo. Songs I've never heard, but I move anyway. You get me crazy, I say 'Do it.' I don't care what, just do it. Jam me, jack me, push me, pull me -talk hard!" I like that. Talk Hard. I like the idea that a voice can just go somewhere uninvited and just kind of hang out like a dirty thought in a nice clean mind. To me a thought is like a virus. You know, it can just kill all the healthy thoughts and just take over. That would be serious.

Sara was lying on her bed, listening to Captain Cold read her message for all the world to hear. "That would be totally serious," she agreed.

I know all of my chilly listeners would love it if I would just call up the pretty bird lady. But no! Because she never encloses her number.

Sara laughed. "Tough luck, creepoid."

She's probably a lot like me, a legend in her own mind. But you know what, I bet in real life she's probably not that wild. I bet she's kind of shy like so many of us who briskly walk the halls, pretending to be late for some class, pretending to be distracted. Hey, poetry lady, are you really this cool? Are you out there? Are you listening?

"I'm always out here," Sara promised.

I feel like I know you, and yet… we'll never meet. Ah, so be it. I don't know; drugs are out, sex is out, politics are out, everything is on hold. I mean we definitely need something new. We just keep waiting for some new voice to come out of somewhere and just say, "Hey, wait a minute, what is wrong with this picture?" Well maybe this is the answer to everything, wouldn't that be nice, huh? "Dear Captain Cold, do you think I should kill myself?" Great! Signed, "I'm Serious." And of course there is a number here. Hello, Serious?

Carter Hall took a deep breath and answered his phone. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Captain Cold asked.

"Yep," Carter answered.

"I guess what I'm asking is how serious are you? How are you going to do it?" Captain Cold asked.

"I'm gonna blow my fucking head off," Carter responded.

"Oh! Well, do you have a gun?" Captain Cold asked.

"No, I'm going to use my finger, genius," Carter said, sarcastically.

"All right. So where is this gonna take place, huh?"

"Right here," Carter said.

"Where is this alleged gun? Do you have it with you? Did you at least write a note? You have a reason, don't you? You're not going to be one of those people who kills themselves and nobody has any idea of why they did it? Hey, that's why we need a note, pal!" Captain Cold cajoled.

"I'm all alone," Carter admitted.

"No, hey, look, maybe it's okay to be alone sometimes, everybody's alone," Captain Cold insisted.

"You're not," Carter said.

"I didn't talk to one person today, not- not counting teachers. I sit alone every day you know, sitting in the stairwell eating my lunch, reading a book. What about you?"

Carter hung up the phone. His mind was already made up. He loaded the gun.

I hate that, now I'm depressed. Now I feel like killing myself, but luckily I'm too depressed to bother. Great! Straight to voicemail. Rejected again, that's okay I'm used to it, terminal loneliness. People always think they know who a person is but they're always wrong. Most parents have no idea. It's just that mine had me tested because I sit alone in my room alone, naked, wearing only a cock ring, heh heh! I mean it really bugs me, everyone knows what a person should be, who cares how I should be! You know, in real life I could be that anonymous nerd sitting across from you in Chem. Lab, staring at you so hard, you turn around, he tries to smile, but the smile just comes out all wrong. You just think how pathetic, then he just looks away and never looks back at you again. Well, hey, who cares, that's my motto. Well, sleep tight, Miranda, sleep tight, White Canary, sleep tight, Mr. Serious. Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow.

Sara went to the paper she had taped to the wall of what she knew about Captain Cold so far. She wrote down that he ate lunch on the stairs reading a book.

She had a pretty good idea where to go look now.

~~*~~

Leonard was sitting outside with an open book and his lunch the next day, like he did every day.

The pretty girl from the library skipped down the stairs and stopped in front of him. "Hi, got a stick of gum?" She grabbed the package out of his shirt pocket, triumphantly. "Black Jack! My name's Sara, what's yours?"

"Leonard."

"Leonard," she repeated. "Well, hi, Leonard."

"Hi," Leonard said, marking his place in his book and closing it.

"Listen, I was gonna cut fourth period, do you wanna join me in the art supply room?" Sara asked.

"Er, no, I can't, got to go, sorry," Leonard said, awkwardly getting to his feet and practically running off.

"Sorry!" Sara called after him. "Maybe next time."

~~*~~

Mrs. Smoak was somber as she got the class's attention. "I have some very upsetting news. Last night one of our students, Carter Hall, took his own life. For those of you who knew him, there will be a memorial service at Dempsey Hall on Friday. I know it hurts, it's painful to lose someone."

~~*~~

Leonard found a quiet corner on campus and pulled out his phone. He opened Captain Cold's Facebook account and read the newest message from White Canary aloud, to himself. "You're the voice crying out in the wilderness, you're the voice that makes my brain burn and makes my guts go gooey. Yeah, you gut me, my insides spill out on your altar and tell the future, my steaming gleaming guts spill out your nature. I know you, not your name, but your game. I know the true you, come to me or I'll come to you."

"So you are him," Sara exclaimed from behind Leonard, causing him to jump. "Don't worry I'm not going to bust you or anything. Aren't you going to ask who I am?"

"No, I don't think so. No!" Leonard said.

"I'm the White Canary!" She boasted. "You don't believe me." She grabbed his phone and quoted without looking at the screen, "'I know you, not your name, but your game. I know the true you, come to me or I'll come to you.' Hey, relax, I'm not really like that, except when I am."

Leonard tried to get away from her, still upset from learning about Carter's suicide. "Look, I really can't handle this right now, okay?"

Sara looked at him sympathetically, as if she could read his mind. "Look, it's not your fault. I was listening last night. I didn't think he'd go through with it."

~~*~~

You're free to do what you want You never thought of consequences You created your own little world Where you could always be different

A place where the rules do not apply You could never be denied You took advantage of a good think Now the void you filled is empty

Put the mask back on Put the mask back on Don't take it off 'til everybody's gone

Put the mask back on Put the mask back on No disguise has ever lasted so long - Cover Up, by Trapt

You see I never planned it like this. I set up this account to talk to my old friends, but they didn't know to look for me under this handle. I thought I was talking to nobody. I imagined that nobody was listening. Maybe I imagined one person out there. Anyway one day I woke up and I realized I was never going to be normal and so I said fuck it, I said so be it and Captain Cold was born. I never meant to hurt anyone, honestly, I never meant to hurt anyone. I'm sorry, Carter. I never said, "Don't do it." I'm sorry. Um, anyway I'm done, stick a fork in me it's been grand. This is Captain Cold saying sayonara, over and out.

Sara sat staring at her computer as the video ended. "Come on, you can't do this," she told the screen.

Laurel shook her phone in the bedroom next to Sara's. "This is a joke right?"

"C'mon, Captain baby, don't stiff," Mick, Sin's boyfriend, complained as they watched together.

Leonard Snart paced around his bedroom, staring at his computer equipment. "What am I doing? Fuck It!" He sat back down and queued up a new video session.

You hear about some kid who did something stupid, something desperate. What possessed him? How could he do such a terrible thing? It's really quite simple, actually. Consider the life of a teenager. You have parents and teachers telling you what to do. You have movies, magazines, and TV telling you what to do. But you know what you have to do. Your job, your purpose, is to get accepted, get a cute girlfriend, and think up something great to do with the rest of your life. What if you're confused and can't imagine a career? What if you're funny looking and you can't get a girlfriend? You see no one wants to hear it, but the terrible secret is that being young is sometimes less fun than being dead.

"This is great, he's making it worse," the reporter commented to his cameraman outside the high school the kid who'd killed himself had attended. Whoever this guy was behind the parka and goggles, he'd made an impression. Whether that impression was good or bad, remained to be seen. What would get better ratings?

Suicide is wrong, but the interesting thing about it is how uncomplicated it seems. There you are, you got all these problems swarming around your brain, and here is one simple, one incredibly simple solution. I'm just surprised it doesn't happen every day around here. Now, now they're going to say I said offing yourself is simple, but no, no, no, no, it's not simple. It's like everything else, you have to read the fine print. For instance, assuming there is a heaven who would ever wanna go there, you know? I mean think about it, sitting on this cloud, you know it's nice, it's quiet, there's no teachers, there's no parents, but guess what? There's nothing to do! Fucking boring. Another thing to remember about suicide is that it is not a pretty picture. First of all, you shit your shorts, you know. So, there you are, dead, people are weeping over you, crying, girls you never spoke to are saying, "Why? Why? Why?" and you have a load in your shorts! That's the way I see it. Sue me. Now, they're saying I shouldn't think stuff like this. They're saying something is wrong with me, that I should be ashamed. Well, I'm sick of being ashamed. Aren't you?

"Sick to death!" Laurel agreed.

I don't mind being dejected and rejected, but I'm not going to be ashamed about it.

"Hallelujah," Sara called out.

At least pain is real. You look around and you see nothing is real, but the pain is real. You know, even this show isn't real. This isn't me; I'm using a voice disguiser. I'm a phony fuck just like my dad, just like anybody. You see, the real me is just as worried as the rest of you. They say I'm disturbed, well, of course, I'm disturbed. I mean we're all disturbed, and if we're not, why not? Doesn't this blend of blindness and blandness want to make you do something crazy? Then why not do something crazy? It makes a hell of a lot more sense than blowing your fucking brains out, you know. Go nuts, go crazy, get creative! You got problems? You just chuck 'em, nuke 'em! They think you're moody? Make 'em think you're crazy, make 'em think you might snap! They think you got attitude? You show 'em some real attitude! Come on, go nuts, get crazy. Hey no more Mr. Nice Guy! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, oh god!! ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, oh yes.

We're all excited But we don't know why Maybe it's cause We're all gonna die

And when we do (When we do) What's it all for (What's it all for) You better live now Before the grim reaper come knocking on your door

Tell me, are we gonna let de-elevator bring us down? Oh, no let's go!

Let's go crazy Let's get nuts Look for the purple banana Until they put us in the truck, let's go! - Let’s Go Crazy, by Prince

~~*~~

Laurel Lance took Captain Cold's words to heart. She grabbed her ribbons and trophies - symbols of her academic achievement, of her so-called perfect life, and carried them down to the kitchen where she stuffed them in the microwave. Just before she slammed the door closed, she ripped off her stupid pearls and tossed them in, too. She punched something into the timer and watched in fascination as the items slowly spun around until the microwave exploded, spitting debris hit her in the face, knocking her out.

The explosion drew Sara out of her bedroom and down the stairs where she found her sister unconscious on the floor. She looked around, bewildered, until she saw the microwave and she burst out laughing.

"You tell 'em, Captain Cold," she muttered, reaching for her phone to call an ambulance.

~~*~~

The next day, Leonard watched as students rearranged the cards on the notice boards to spell out STAY COLD and hung signs that said THE TRUTH IS A VIRUS. Some of the teachers were running around freaking out, trying to get it all down. Others thought it was about time someone made a stand.

Sara tracked down Leonard and got him alone in the art room. "So, I don't know if you know this, but my sister is the perfect Laurel Lance." Leonard shook his head to indicate that he had not known this. "So, last night she burned up all her shit right after you suggested it, in our kitchen! Oh, her precious pearls were flying like bullets. Dad was un-thrilled."

Leonard ran a hand over his closely shorn hair. "This is out of control."

"Yeess!" Sara emphatically agreed, grinning maniacally.

"That's it, it's over. I just hope it isn't too late," Leonard said.

"Leonard!" Sara called after him as he ran away, again.

"Just leave me alone, okay, please?" he called back over his shoulder.

~~*~~

Leonard allowed his dad to drag him to the PTA meeting at the school. He slumped down in his chair as Principal Waller tried to conduct regular business when all the parents wanted to do was talk about him. Well, Captain Cold. He sat up straighter as Laurel Lance walked up on the dais.

"My name is Laurel Lance and I have something to say to you people. People are saying that Captain Cold is introducing bad things and encouraging bad things. But it seems to me that these things were already here. My god, why don't you people listen? He's trying to tell you something is wrong with this school. Half the people that are here are on a probation of some kind. We are all really scared to be who we really are. I am not perfect. I've just been going through the motions of being perfect, and inside I'm screaming."

"Laurel, you were a model student," Waller said, disappointment evident in her voice.

Leonard made a hasty retreat after Laurel left. This was all getting to be too much.

~~*~~

Leonard stood leaning against the wall outside the sliding door of his basement bedroom, deleting messages for Captain Cold on his phone.

"Hi! What are you doing? You having fun?" Sara asked as she approached him.

"Yeah," Leonard said, absently.

"Hey, look, I took some of these off the wall for you. I mistakenly thought you might want them," she said, thrusting some handmade signs at him.

"Thanks," Leonard said, letting them fall to the ground.

"So I guess you're not going on tonight," Sara commented after a few minutes of silence.

"Brilliant," Leonard drawled, pushing off the wall and going back into his room.

Sara huffed, following him. "Is this all just a game to you? You know you can't just shout 'fire' in a theatre and then walk out. You have a responsibility for the people who believe in you. What is this? C'mon say something, say anything. Open your mouth and say, 'Get the hell out of here bitch.'"

"I can't," Leonard said.

"You can't what?" Sara demanded.

"I can't talk," Leonard ground out.

Sara snorted. "Sure you can talk."

"I can't talk to you," he clarified. He let out a noise of frustration as he sat in front of his computer, put on his headset, and opened Facebook.

I got a message from this guy who's got a problem, he can't talk. I mean he can talk, but never when he wants to, not to girls, not to people. He just opened up his mouth and nothing came out. And this jerk finds somebody that he likes, which is probably the worst thing to happen to a person who can't talk. So, I don't know what to tell this guy because lately every time I give out advice the fit hits the shan. So, I don't know, maybe the best thing to do is just turn around and face the music and try to talk.

Leonard turned around to talk to Sara but she's gone.

"Leo," Lewis called, knocking on the door.

"Coming," Leonard called back, pausing the video and turning off the monitor.

"Leo, it's just me. I wanna come in for a minute," Lewis said, turning the locked doorknob.

"Yeah, just give me a second here, two seconds," Leonard said, taking off the headset and hiding it under a dirty tee-shirt.

"Open the goddamn door," Lewis shouted.

"On my way," Leonard said, checking the room one last time before yanking the door open.

"I have been out there for two minutes, what the hell are you doing in here?" Lewis demanded, looking for evidence of drugs or alcohol. Or a Facebook video.

"I was just reading," Leonard said, gesturing to the book on his desk.

"Oh c'mon, Leo, I heard you. I heard you talking," Lewis said.

"I was reading aloud," Leonard quickly said.

"Oh c'mon, do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Okay, I'll tell you the truth," Leonard said, not sure what he was going to say.

"He was talking to me," Sara said, popping up from behind the loveseat. "Hi, I'm Sara Lance."

"Nice to meet you," Lewis said, stunned. "How do you do?"

"I was afraid you would be mad at me for disturbing Leonard's homework," Sara said.

"You don't know how happy I am to meet you," Lewis said, looking at his son with new appreciation.

"Listen, I've got to go, but it was really nice to have met you. Bye, Leonard," Sara said, taking a step towards the sliding door.

"No, you don't have to go. Leo, she doesn't have to go," Lewis said.

"Bye now, see you tomorrow," Sara said with a wink to Leonard as she slipped outside.

"You've been a bad dog, haven't you?" Lewis said, punching his son lightly on the arm. "You know, for a second there I thought you were that crazy Facebook character they've been talking about on the news."

"Maybe he's not that crazy, Dad," Leonard suggested.

"Right! Very funny. Go get her, go on. That's my idea of homework," Lewis cajoled.

After his dad left, Leonard got his microphone back on and resumed his session.

Sorry about that, folks, technical difficulties. Let's see who we have out there tonight. The usual band of teenage malcontents. I certainly hope so, because Captain Cold is feeling kind of rude tonight.

~~*~~

Let's go out in flames so everyone knows who we are 'Cause these city walls never knew that we'd make it this far We've become echoes, but echoes are fading away So let's dance like two shadows, burning out a glory day

Devil's on your shoulder Strangers in your head As if you don't remember As if you can forget It's only been a moment It's only been a lifetime But tonight you're a stranger Some silhouette - Silhouette, by Aquilo

After Leonard put on the song he went outside to get some air. It had been a surreal night so far. He'd called Mr. Wilson again and was informed that his phone was being traced. Too bad for the cops that it was a burner phone. They could triangulate his signal, but not to his specific address, especially once he removed the battery and sim card from the phone.

He wasn't surprised that Sara was out there, listening to his cast on her phone.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk, you don't have to say anything and you don't have to do anything, unless you want to," she said, approaching him slowly.

"You're so different," Leonard said. "I mean, you're so fearless. I wish I could be like you."

"You are," Sara said, stepping close to him. They're so close but still not touching. Swaying together in the warm breeze. Almost dancing.

"I wish I could say things to you," Leonard said, raising a hand to hover over her cheek before lowering it.

"You do," Sara said, so earnestly. She grabbed his hand and placed it over her heart.

"Everything's so strange," Leonard whispered, his fingers flexing against her shirt.

"Yeah," Sara agreed, her breath hitching at their nearness.

"Maybe we're just crazy," Leonard said, meeting her eyes.

"So be it," Sara said, rising on her toes and pressing her lips to his.

Leonard wrapped his free arm around her back, pulling Sara closer as she wound her arms around his neck. The kiss was clumsy, messy, all teeth and hard lips, but neither cared. They paused, panting for breath before coming together again in a much more satisfying kiss.

"So be it," Leonard whispered against her lips.

After a few minutes of flirting and giggling, Amaya finally left the mess hall, leaving the partners behind.

“Enjoyed the show?” Mick said, watching Snart take a bottle of beer from his pack.

Leonard shrugged as he opened the bottle. “Hands on the wrong places and too much tongue on your part. Not something I like watching.”

“Geez, thanks for the tips, boss,” Mick replied, taking a gulp of his own beer. “At least I got the girl. Can’t say the same for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mick scoffed. “Seriously, Snart? It’s been a year since we got you back and you still haven’t made a move on Blondie. You keep insisting you don’t like her but come on, the team isn’t blind. You both got the hots for each other. You’re just both idiots.”

“So what are you saying? I go there and drunkenly confess just like you did in hopes of us ending up like you and the fox girl?” Leonard replied sarcastically, knowing that deep inside, that’s just what he wants to do.

“Maybe, Snart,” Mick replied. “If she rejects you, which I doubt she will, then at least you tried. Come on. You love her. It’s worth a shot.”

He didn’t even deny it. Leonard just grunted and finished his bottle.

 It was Amaya who sat beside Sara on the bridge. Sara was looking at the green mass of the temporal zone when she felt the woman tap her shoulder.

“Mind if I take the seat?”

“No. Take it.”

Amaya held the silence for a few minutes until she can’t help ask: “Are you still waiting for Snart or have you lost hope and just decided to let it go?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sara turned to her with a frown on her face.

“Come on,” Amaya replied. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. You feel something for him. I think you’ve had it even before he died. When I met you, you were literally out there kissing all the ladies you could meet but it’s never like how you look at him.”

“Get to your point, Amaya.”

“Mick and I have something special,” she replied. “It’s too early to call it something more than just liking one another but we’re slowly figuring things out along the way. But you, Sara, the two of you—you guys have already figured out what you feel for each other. You just fail to act on it. You know well that you could always make a move first. Why haven’t you?”

Sara dropped her elbows to her knees and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Amaya. I just think it’s not in the cards anymore. So much time has passed since…since he first asked…and I don’t know if what we have now is worth risking it.”

“What do you have right now?” Amaya asked.

“We’re good,” Sara tried defending, “we’re okay. We’re...friends.”

“You two haven’t been just friends for a long time, Sara.”

Amaya stood up and left immediately after her statement, leaving Sara to her thoughts. It only lasted for a minute since the seat Amaya left has been vacated by Snart himself.

 “So, Mick talked to me…”

“Of course he did.”

“You had a chat with Amaya?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn, those two.”

“Y—yeah.”

 Leonard didn’t know what came to him. It must’ve been his nerves, or his feelings, or the unsteady trumping in his chest. He reached out to hold Sara’s hand which lay on her lap. Sara took a deep breath and squeezed his hand tight.

“We’re idiots, aren’t we?” Leonard said, his voice deep and void of his usual drawl.

“We are,” Sara whispered. She let her head lean on the headrest of the jump seat.

Leonard ran his thumb through her knuckles softly and carefully. “I’m sorry I took my time. I waited too long for the right timing, not knowing we’d never have the right timing. We only have now.”

He was still looking for words to tell her—to ease her through his confession—to ease her through what he’s planning to say, when Sara blurted out: “I love you, Leonard. I have for a long time.”

Leonard moved to the edge of the seat to look at her in the eye. He’s confused and relieved at the same time. “Could you say that again?”

Sara smiled, nudging him. “You heard me. I love you. At least that’s what I think this is,” she said as her free hand went to her chest. “It’s a weird feeling but I think I’m right. I think love is what this is.”

She was in the middle of rambling when Leonard’s free hand went to the back of Sara’s neck. The man pulled her close and kissed her, not allowing her to let go.

That wasn’t a problem since she doesn’t really want to.

One of Sara’s hands left his hand to move to his short-buzzed hair, pulling him even closer that they already were. Another hand was busy exploring Leonard’s torso, pulling his shirt. Len kept his hands on her nape, one on her thigh.

Sara broke away from the kiss to get some air, panting. Leonard chuckled at the break, their foreheads not separating.

“Lance, you already know I love you, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Does this allow us to make out around the ship, too? As payback for Mick and Amaya?”

Sara just laughed and grabbed him back for another kiss.

The rest of my Captain Canary Collection: HERE

“Relax, Canary,” he said, speaking for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Easy for you to say,” she said in a harsh whisper. “You know, I’m surprised your buddy the Reverse Flash hasn’t come in here to get you out.”

“I’m not. Unlike your team of Merry Heroes... We don’t care about each other. We only want one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“A better future,” he drawled, making her scoff and roll her eyes. 

“So you think they’ll just let you use the spear for yourself when this is all over? Please. You’re just a pawn. And they are more than aware that in the future, you work with us. Rip and you are disposable.”

“Not if I can help it,” he said, voice almost a sneer. “I refuse to go out like he did. Like a damn hero. Leaving everything I’ve worked hard for behind. And for what? Nothing.”

“Says the guy whose strings are still being pulled where he’s from,” said Sara. “The Leonard I knew died so that he wasn’t a piece in someone else’s game anymore.”

“Yeah, Rip told me all about that. Don’t worry. We both have a plan for the Time Masters, too.”

“Right.” Sara shook her head, eyes closing slightly. Unlike Rip, Leonard’s head hadn’t been messed with. Mick had warned them all. Warned them about how cold and cruel the Leonard before the Legends... Before the Flash... Could be. Sara hadn’t quite believed him. How could someone change so much in three years? Boy how she’d been wrong. It’s like how she’d been, while lost in time, willing to kill those she’d once called allies to protect Ras. “Well, unlucky for you, we have that final piece.”

“For now.” He leaned forward, mouth close to her ear. “Enjoy this little victory while you can. We’ll get it back.”

She was aware of how close he was. Felt the hairs at the back of her neck raise in awareness as his warmth almost embraced her. For a moment she let herself be weak and bask in the idea that he was back and that they were actually here because they were on a mission together. And when she needed that extra dose of a reality check, she did the only thing she could.

She elbowed him. 

Hard. 

Making him exhale harshly before stumbling back into the wall of what looked to be cleaning supplies. She looked over her shoulder at him and his eyes were just as venomous as hers probably were. 

“You’re an ass.”

“Guilty,” he acknowledged with a tilt of his head. 

“And nothing like that man I knew.”

“Good.”

“I wonder what Lisa would think,” said Sara, looking away from him, once again studying the texture of the wooden door. It was a dirty move. Dropping his sister’s name. He was just making her feel agitated. That he wasn’t as lost with her around as she was with him around. “Seeing you act like the very man who put all those scars on your body. Her body.”

He pushed forward, almost slamming her into the locked door, it rattling slightly in its frame. “You don’t get to comment on me or my life. I’m nothing like him.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” she gasped, the knife she drew pressing into his side. He immediately released her, and she sighed. “Put your hands on me again and the truce is off.”

“Keep your mouth shut about things you don’t understand, and we’ll both make it out of here alive,” he retorted.

And so they kept quiet. When the time came to escape, Sara opened the door. They cleared the hall then walked together only for a moment before going their separate ways. Sara didn’t look back as she found her exit. She just got the hell out of there as fast as she could. She sighed in relief when she saw the jumpship appear. The door opened and there stood Mick with his heatgun. She saw him frown and look off in the distance. After she boarded, standing by his side, only then did she allow herself to look where Mick’s attention was. 

It was Leonard, standing on the opposite end of the roof, looking at the both of them all the way up until the doors closed. 

“You good?” asked Mick. 

“I’m good. Let’s get out of here.”