After an hour of goofing off with Kendra and Sara, the hawk warrior seemed much more at ease. Deserey eventually excused herself to use the rest room. On her way back, she ran into Rip, who seemed a bit perplexed. Dez approached him, frowning worriedly, because she wasn’t sure she had enough energy for another pep talk. “You good?” she asked.

“Hm?” Rip said, like he hadn’t heard her. And when she repeated the question he nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. Fine. I just seemed to have misplaced the keys to the jump ship…”

“Maybe you need a mother’s touch,” Deserey joked. “Where did you see them last? I’ll help you look.”

“Well, I was talking to Dr. Palmer and Mr. Snart on the bridge and…” Rip trailed off, making an agitated face as he hissed, “Bullocks.”

Deserey felt her mouth twitch upwards, and she covered it with her hand to hand the forming smirk. “Len stole them didn’t he?”

“Afraid so,” Rip sighed. He looked up at the ceiling, hands on his hips in frustration. “Gideon, would you inform Mr. Snart that I would like to speak with him immediately?” There it was again. That dad voice that he shared with Deserey's ex husband…

“I’m afraid that Mr. Snart and Mr. Rory are no longer aboard the Waverider, Captain,” the AI informed.

Rip cursed again and shot Dez a slightly irritated look when she chuckled. She shrugged. “Sorry,” she said. “But in all fairness, they did say they were going to rob history blind before even stepping foot on the ship.”

Rip sighed. “I suppose you’re right…” His next words were directed at the ship’s AI, “Notify me the moment they arrive back on the ship.”

Gideon didn’t respond, but Deserey figured she’d probably understood her orders. Dez and Rip began walking down the hall, the captain looked rather miffed at the two thieves while Deserey silently wondered what had prompted their little side adventure. Boredom? They had been flying for at least an hour, and Deserey was starting to get a bit stir crazy herself.

“Hey, how long do we have until we reach Russia?” she asked, giving Rip a side ways glance.

“Four hours now,” he told her, shoving his hands in his trench coat’s pocket. It was something it did quite a bit, but Deserey never had enough nerve to ask about it. She guessed it was a nervous tick of some kind, though she wasn’t sure what he was so nervous about. Saving his family? Stopping Savage? Leading a team when he’d been a lone wolf before? It was hard to pin point a singular thing.

“Blegh,” Deserey groaned childishly, running her hand through her hair. (She’d made sure to keep it tied back after her shouting march with Mick the night before.) “Why can’t we just time jump there?”

“Because,” Rip said, using that dad voice again, “you and the others needed some time to collect yourselves, as was made evident by the argument after the Pentagon and your little spat with Mr. Rory not five minutes after I sent you all off.”

Deserey scoffed. “That was just…” She stopped, realizing she couldn’t really defend herself. It had been very childish and unprofessional. Mick had just been standing up for his friend, and she’d treated both him and Leonard like crap. She really was a bitch, wasn’t she?

“And by the way,” Rip said, his voice taking on a sort of teasing tone Dez didn’t know he had, “if you’ve got a problem with the ship’s doors you could have just told me about it. You didn’t have to go shouting about.”

Deserey covered her face with her hands, laughing in embarrassment. She was pretty sure her cheeks had heated up, but she wasn’t really worried about blushing in front of the captain, oddly enough. “So bad…” Dez muttered into her fingers, finding the appropriate words to finish her sentence from earlier.

Rip smirked a little, and Dez couldn’t help feeling a little prideful at that. She hadn’t seen him really smile or anything since they’d began, not even when he talked about his family.  But the look was gone just as quick as it had come, and she might as well have imagined it.

Deserey pushed her hands across her head before dropping them to her sides and letting out a heavy breath. “Okay. Well, why we’re on the topic of flipping out on Mick… I guess I should mention that Kendra did that hawk flight or fight thing again.” Rip looked confused for a moment, so Dez told him what had happened in the galley. When she had finished, he just nodded slowly. He sighed.

“Between Kendra, Sara, and our resident Rogues, what am I going to do…” Rip muttered. Deserey assumed he was talking to himself, but she answered him anyways.

“Not sure about Len and Mick,” she said, “but Kendra and Sara have almost the same problem, so if you can convince them to talk to each other or something maybe they can figure it out together.”

Rip stopped walking abruptly, as a light bulb went off in his head, and Deserey almost left him behind. “That's actually not a bad idea,” he said. Then, he frowned. “Hold on. When did you find out about Sara's – er – troubles?”

Deserey shrugged. “Y’all were fighting about it outside my room the other morning, and then she almost killed me in the training room.” It was weird, even to her, how casual she had managed to sound about it. Then, she made a frown of her own, realizing something. “Hey! What do you mean actually?”

But before Rip could defend his word choice, the duo heard yet another argument ensue. It sounded like Professor Stein and Jax. Deserey wasn’t sure what they were fighting about now, but she didn’t really care enough to figure it out since the two halves of Firestorm were pretty much always arguing about something. In fact, the only time she had seen them actually speak nicely to one another was when Young Marty had followed them on to the Waverider back in the seventies.

Rip shot Dez the most exasperated look she had ever seen, and she could just tell the team was really starting to wear him down. He was probably regretting even asking any of them to join him. “This,” he said, “is why we didn’t just time jump.”

Rip and Deserey found two halves in the cargo bay of the ship. Jax had his arms folded over his chest, a huffy expression on his face. Stein stood across the room, looking just as agitated at the younger man. “Never fear, kiddos,” Deserey said. “Mommy and Daddy are here!” All three men gave her strange looks, and she asked, “What?”

They ignored her. Rip looked at the other males with disapproval. “What's going on, now?” he asked. “Can’t we go three minutes without someone arguing with someone else on this ship?”

“Tell that to Grey,” Jax grumbled. “He's the one who keeps rambling on and on about physics and focusing.” From that comment, Deserey guessed the disagreement had resulted in a training exercise gone wrong.

“I wouldn’t have to ramble, if you would just listen to me,” Stein retaliated, a bit childishly for a sophisticated science professor like himself.

Rip and Dez shared a look with each other, silently communicating in a way that only parents could. The message passing between them was clear: defuse the situation before it ended up like the feud from the previous night.

Deserey took a seat on one of the random crates Rip had stacked around the room, tugging at the hem of her grey jacket and crossing her legs like a pretzel. It was a casual position she always took up whenever she needed to stop an argument between her kids before it got too out of hand. She found the cavalier attitude tended to calm the angry parties down a bit, like seeing her so at ease somehow put all their stresses to rest.

Rip followed her lead, perching himself on another crate, leaning forward and placing his forearms on his knees. Another thing that he did that reminded her of Darryl…It was a bit strange seeing the captain look so calm and, well, normal, considering he was probably one of the most stressed out people she had ever met; but Deserey really appreciated the effort. Idly, she wondered if he had ever had to use this trick on Jonas…

She cleared her throat, bringing herself back into the present. Jax and Stein were staring at Deserey and Rip like they had lost their marbles. Deserey ignored their gazes, rummaging through the crate next to the one she was sitting on. Eventually, she came out holding a foam (American) football. There was at least a dozen more in the crate, so she pulled the thing in between herself and Rip so they could both easily access it. She thought Jax would have been able to appreciate her approach, but he just looked at her in annoyance.

“You’re probably thinking this is some kind of therapy crap,” Deserey said. “Like whoever holds the football gets to talk and everyone else listens. Something Ray might come up with. But that seems too boring. So, we’re going to do this Momma's way. You two talk and for every eye roll or scoff or whatever other passive aggressive behavior you might exhibit…Rip and I will toss a football at your heads to knock some sense into you.” It wasn’t something she would do to her own kids, but she figured Stein and Jax were tough enough to take a few light hits. Besides, they needed some motivation to help get along. (Though, she wasn’t actually planning on hitting them anyway. Maybe just throwing it near their heads rather than at them.)

Rip made a face, as he took up one of the footballs from the crate. “These aren’t real footballs,” he muttered. “But carry on.” Dez tossed her football at his head for that remark, but he ducked before it could hit him.

“I played JV in high school,” Jax reminded her. “You're not gonna hit me with any of those things.”

Stein didn’t seem to share the younger man’s confidence. In fact, he looked quite worried for his own well being. “Isn't that a bit dangerous?” he asked. “You could break something. Or hurt someone. Or –”

Jax made an irritated sound, throwing his hands up. “Man, now he’s lecturing everyone!” he complained. Rip threw his football at his head, but Jax easily caught it.

Deserey turned her attention to Stein, acting like Jax hadn’t said anything. “They’re made of foam,” she told him. “They won’t do any real damage unless we throw them really hard, but we shouldn’t have to throw them at all…if you are nice to each other.”

“I didn’t see anyone chucking footballs at you and Rory when you two were fighting,” Jax complained again, throwing the ball he held in the crate between Rip and Deserey.

“I’m mom,” Deserey reasoned. “I can argue with whoever I want.” She reached in the crate and took out another ball, tossing it at the youngster. “Now, stop complaining. This is happening.”

“Whatever. This isn’t going to work,” he said, tossing the football back to her.

She ignored him, turning to Stein once more. He sort of looked frightened, like he thought she was about to throw the ball at him next. Instead, she said, “Doc, you go first. And remember you won’t be hit if you’re nice.”

At the word ‘Doc’ the lights in the cargo bay flickered a bit, causing the occupants of the room to look around with confusion, before they went back to normal. Deserey frowned, remembering how Gideon had acted so strangely before when she had said the name ‘Doc’ too. She shook her head, figuring it was probably just a glitch. Nothing to worry about at the moment. “…Alright,” Stein said nervously. He paused for a moment, contemplating his words before he said them for once, really not wanting to get hit with a football.

“We have to work together,” he said finally. “Or else one of us, or both even, could end up injured or worse.” The way he spoke was kind of odd, like maybe he was speaking from experience. And it occurred to Deserey that she didn’t really know much about the professor. She had at least gotten a vague backstory from most of the others. But she had never actually sat down and talked with him like that. She didn’t know if he was married, gay, straight. Or what his favorite book was (probably something about physics, but she didn’t know the specific titles) or what time period he wanted to see most.

All she knew was that he was a professor, and he was one half of Firestorm. Maybe that was why she had taken to referring to him as Stein or Professor or even Doc instead of calling him by his first name the way she did with everyone else, the way she preferred to speak with people. He seemed too professional and not personal enough.

Something shifted within Jax. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he looked a bit guilty for his attitude earlier. “Yeah,” he said, “I know. But that doesn’t mean you have to constantly talk my ear off. I mean, it’s like you don’t trust me, man. Not to mention it’s freaking distracting!”

Rip took another ball from the crate, but he didn’t throw it. He just rolled it in his hands, like he was trying not to intrude more than what was necessary. Deserey understood where he was coming from. She herself was picking at the foam of her own football.

“Oh…my apologies,” Stein said sincerely. “I only mean to guide you the way I did with –”

“Ronnie?” Jax guessed. Deserey frowned, especially when the professor visibly winced at the name.

“…Yes,” Stein nodded.

Deserey glanced over at Rip, mouthing, who? But Rip just shrugged in response, seemingly just as lost as she was.

“Well, I’m not Ronnie,” Jax said. “So, you gotta stop treating me like I am.” With that, Jax walked out, looking a bit fed up and annoyed but not quite as angry as he had been before. At least now he seemed to be able to somewhat see things from the professor’s perspective.

Deserey looked at Stein carefully, as she and Rip tossed the footballs back into the crate. (She was sort of glad they didn’t really need to use them.) “Who’s Ronnie?” she asked.

Stein stiffened at her question. His face contorted in a very uncomfortable expression, making Deserey think this Ronnie guy must have been someone he’d been close with. Maybe they had had a falling out or something and it was still a sore subject for him? “…Another time, Perhaps,” he said quietly after a moment. “Uh, excuse me.”

With that, he left as well, looking quite put out. Rip and Deserey exchanged looks as he went.

{~}

Rip and Deserey spotted Sara as they left the cargo bay, and Rip called out to her. He was still a bit tense from the tension with Firestorm – Dez didn’t blame him. She was too – but he still somehow managed to sound somewhat normal, as he told Sara to confront Kendra.

Sara shook her head, when he had finished talking. “I don’t do feelings,” she said. “If Kendra needs someone to talk through her grief with –” Deserey got the feeling she was about to suggest the hawk warrior go chat with Ray, but before she got the chance, Rip interrupted her.

“What Kendra needs is someone to help her control her warrior sides,” he said. “Who better than someone who was formally dead?”

Sara sighed and glanced suspiciously at Dez. “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

Dex shrugged. “I may or may not have said something that may or may not have given him an idea.”

“I knew it,” Sara huffed. “You dang parents considering against the rest of us. It’s not fair.” She sighed. “But fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

Rip nodded, as Sara walked off. He turned briefly to Dez. “I…need to go to the library,” he told her. It sort of sounded like he wanted to ditch her, but she could tell he didn’t want to leave her alone incase she found some way to off herself. She decided not to call him out on that.

“You have a library on this thing?” she said instead. “Why haven’t any of us seen it?”

Rip hesitated. “For one thing it needs a tune up. And another…Well, do you honestly expect I can trust you lot not to completely destroy it?”

“That’s…fair,” Deserey agreed. “But can I see it if it’s just us?” She grinned at him when he made an uneasy face. Honestly, she didn’t think it would work, but he nodded and waved for her to follow him.

Rip lead her down a series of winding halls Deserey had never been through before. She tried to remember the way, but she found herself getting easily confused as they walked. All the walls looked exactly the same with those blue overhead lights and metal rafters.

Eventually, they arrived at a pair of double doors, which slid open upon their approaching footsteps. Inside, there was an old, oak desk, a mess of papers and books scattered on its surface, placed against the back wall. Behind the desk was a shelf full of random knickknacks and gizmos clumsily stacked. Across from the shelf was a large, flat screen tv mounted into the wall. The floor was a worn wood, scuffs and scraps all along its paneling, and the walls were a dark brown that sort of looked like they might give out at any given moment.

“Oh, honey,” Deserey said, taking in the sight. “You need Bobby Berk bad!”

“I…don't know who that is,” Rip said.

“He’s the décor guy from Queer Eye,” Deserey explained. “One of the Fab Five.”

“Ah.” Rip nodded, but he didn’t say any more on the subject. He just approached the desk, silently sifting through the mess. Deserey followed him in, glancing down at some of the papers as he moved them around. They were files on varies people Deserey had never heard of before. She caught a few of them. John Stewart. Billy Batson. Diana Prince. Arthur Curry. Zatanna Zatara. Rachel Roth. Harper Row. Deserey spotted a few files on their team, now dubbed the Legends, too.

But he was shifting the papers too quickly for her to read much more than that. She spotted a couple of strange pictures of old relics and what appeared to be magical staffs, too, but she couldn’t catch the names of any of the objects so she didn’t worry about them.

“Who are they?” Dez asked, nodding at the names of the strangers. Rip placed the files in a rather sloppy stack.

For a moment, he looked like he might just ignore her question, but then he said, “Others.”

Dez raised an eyebrow at him, hoping to prompt more of an explanation from the ex Time Master. Thankfully, it did. “People I might have asked to help me stop Savage instead.”

Dez scoffed, but she was smiling. “Well, now I feel like a rebound,” she joked. Stealing the desk's one and only chair, she grew serious again a moment later. “Why didn’t you ask them, then?”

Rip shrugged, leaning against the wall with his hands in his coat pockets again. “Two reasons. One being that Diana Prince, Arthur Curry, and John Stewart will go on to be founding members of the Justice League, and they need to stick around for that.”

Dez folded her arms, glaring him at the captain with suspicion. “The Justice League?” she said. “That sounds like something you’re making up.”

He shook his head, but instead of saying anything to provide proof, Rip simply moved the conversation along, as if Dez hadn’t said a word. “The second reason being that, in 2016, Billy Batson, Rachel Roth, and Harper Row are only teenagers, despite what Mr. Batson's alter ego might look like.” He had muttered that last part to himself, but before Dez could ask about it, he was moving on. “And Miss Zatara is a rather difficult woman to find alone.”

Deserey shrugged. “Why not time jump to a place and time when the kids are adults and Tari or whatever is less popular?”

Rip flashed her one of those sheepish looks of his. “Convenience,” he admitted. “I wanted to pick everyone up all at once so not to waste any more time than what was necessary.” 

Deserey shrugged. “What do they do?” She turned to the sloppy stack at the end of the desk and craned her neck a bit trying to read something off of at least one of the papers.

Rip spotted her doing so and, without answering her question, tucked them inside a red folder. He stuffed the folder in one of the desk's drawers, locking it with a silver key he’d pulled from his pocket a moment later. Deserey pouted.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” she asked.

“I’m really not,” Rip agreed rather sternly. He made a face and shook his head incredulously, as he placed the desk's key back in his pocket. “I’m not even supposed to be looking at them.” He shrugged. “I only took them because I needed help, and I needed to know who I was getting it from. But even then I’ve only looked at the bare minimum. Personal time lines are just that: personal.”

“Oh, fine,” Dez relented, feeling a bit rude now. Here she was trying to poke into complete strangers' business, trying to know their life stories, their abilities, everything about them. She thought about how pissed she would have been if the tables were turned…  “But what did you come down here for if not those papers?” Deserey asked, changing the subject. “Boardman's journal and the file we stole from the Pentagon are up in the parlour. So, it can’t be that either.”

“No,” Rip said, and his voice sounded a bit awkward. “I didn’t come down here for Savage.” She rolled her hand, signaling for him to continue. It was slightly annoying, coaxing him like a timid animal, but Deserey understood, she supposed. Whatever it was, it was difficult to share, much like the details of that fight she’d had with her parents so long ago… Deserey shoved that thought from her head as soon as it had entered. She didn’t need it. Didn’t need them.

Rip shifted a bit, hands in his pocket once more. “Let’s call it my personal time line,” he said. “Our conversation in the galley previously had got me thinking…” He paused for a moment, and Dez nodded, starting to understand. But she let him say it. “I'm looking for my birth parents,” Rip told her.

Something about the words stung, even though she’d been half expecting them. Deserey had such a rocky relationship with her own family, it had sort of given a bad stigma to all the other biological families in the world. She had a hard time trusting anyone who shared the same blood, and when looking at other’s stories it was usually the same thing, too. Abusive mom or dad. Neglective grand parents or distant aunts or uncles. Rude as hell siblings...

Even on this ship. Leonard had briefly told her a few stories about his sorry excuse for a father. Mick was basically in the same boat. Rip's biological parents evidently didn’t even want him, so she wasn’t really sure why he was bothering with them. Bio families were trash. That was the reason Deserey and Darryl had opted for a surrogate mother. (That and the fact that Deserey was infertile.)

Deserey didn’t say any of that, though, for fear of offending him. Instead, she said, “Oh. Well, um…” Deserey scratched the top of her head, despite not really having an itch. “Did you find anything yet?”

Rip shook his head. He looked down for a second, and Deserey felt a bit sympathetic. Because despite her pessimistic frame of mind surrounding family, she couldn’t imagine not knowing where she’d come from. Maybe that’s why Rip had started the futile search. Maybe he thought, if they couldn’t save his wife and son, the he might be able to find his other family at least. “Hard to find someone when you don’t know anything about them,” Rip said.

She nodded slowly, bringing her knees up to her chest in the chair. Deserey rested her head in her hand, looking back at the captain. She tried to think of something helpful to say, anything that wouldn’t seem rude, but nothing really came to mind; Dez wanted desperately for a change of topic…But she figured that would be rude as well. Rip must have sensed Deserey's internal struggle, trying to take her way through supporting him – or maybe he just also wanted to change the topic – because he said, “Well, I suspect I’m not going to find anything tonight either. How about we move this to the galley, eh?”

“The galley?” Deserey asked, raising an eyebrow. She was sort of surprised that he’d suggest there of all places. He didn’t seem like the type to eat away his sorrows.

Rip shrugged. “I thought if you didn’t see me eating something soon you’d force me too again.”

Dez pointed at him, nodding quickly. “You right,” she laughed lightly. “Let’s go.”

{~}

In the galley, Stein and Jax were sitting across the room from each other. Jax was leaning on the counter, munching on a bowl of Doritos; Stein was sitting properly at the table with a silver form, nibbling a grapefruit.  Neither was saying anything to each other, which had Dez thinking that her therapeutic football act hadn’t helped much.

Dez scrunched her nose up upon entering the room. “Someone hand me a knife so I can cut this tension,” she muttered. Both Stein and Jax looked up at her, completely unamused.

“You're not here to throw more footballs at us are you?” Jax asked.

She shook her head, walking over to the counter. Taking a seat, she said, “Not as long as you two are good little boys.”

“Hey!” Jax complained, as Dez stole one of his chips. She smirked back at him, before taking another one. He rolled his eyes, but Dez didn’t think he was that annoyed considering he didn’t bother to stop her. Meanwhile, Rip walked over to the food fabricator and grabbed a bottled water and a mini mince pie before joining Stein at the table.

“How are you two, then?” the captain asked the two halves of Firestorm, as everyone nibbled on their snacks.

They both shrugged. “Well enough,” Stein said, which wasn’t very encouraging.

“How long have you two, like, been together anyways?” Deserey asked, gesturing between Stein and Jax with a Dorito. “No offense but from the attitudes I’m guessing it hasn’t been very long?”

“Well, no,” Jax said, shaking his head. “We’ve only been Firestorm for a few months.” He paused for a moment, stopping just before he put another chip in his mouth. “I mean, I have anyways.” He ate the chip.

“Wait. I thought that Firestorm needed two halves?” Deserey asked.

“Er, yes?” Stein said, not quite meeting Dez's eyes.

“But you’ve been Firestorm longer than Jax?” she asked, eating her Dorito. Stein hesitated, as she swallowed the chip, but he eventually nodded. “Hm. Well, then I’m totally confused,” Dez went on. “But anyway, the fighting makes sense now.”

She stood from her chair, all three men watching half heartedly, as she washed the Doritos powder off her hands. “You haven’t been partners like enough to really bond or whatever. I mean, I guess you can bond a bit in that time, but it’s not like a pair who’s been together for years. Like…um…” She snapped as the perfect duo came to mind. “Like Mick and Leonard.”

Stein raised an eyebrow, looking vaguely offended. “Are you comparing us to criminals, Miss Dunet?”

Deserey shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “A little,” she admitted. “But, think about it. They work together so well, because they’ve been together since their Juvie Days. They basically know everything about each other. They know what the other is thinking without even having to say anything about it, and if I had to guess, I’m pretty sure they’ve always got each others backs. They’d probably even die for each other.”

Jax gasped and said, “Whoa.” For a moment Deserey thought the kid saw her point and had experienced some sort of epiphany, but when she followed his gaze she saw what he’d really been looking at.

Deserey yelped, jumping back as her eyes landed on multicolored sand, swirling in mid air at the center of the room. The sand formed an odd shape, something similar to the bridge, though on a much smaller scale.

“Is that the jump ship?” Rip frowned, and Deserey shrugged, having never seen it before. She glanced at the sandy image, floating before them. Blue lights hung on what was apparently the walls of the jump ship, seats lining up just below them, a small control panel at the front.

A small movement at the edge of the image, made everyone in the galley jump. The sand changed slightly, forming two figures walking onto the Jump Ship. It didn’t take long for Dez to recognize them as Mick and Leonard, and her mouth fell open.

“That’s what I call a clean heist,” Mick smirked, as he and Leonard took a seat each.

“Yo, are we spying on them?” Jax asked.

“It appears so,” Rip said apprehensively.

“Astonishing,” Stein muttered, eyes lighting up slightly. Deserey wished she could have shared his enthusiasm, but all she could focus on was the way her stomach was flopping around.

“Well, thanks for not setting the place on fire, partner,” Leonard said half heartedly from the sand image. He tapped the console, looking thoughtful for a moment. “…One more stop,” he eventually decided. Deserey hadn’t known him for very long, of course, but she thought he was acting a bit off.

Mick stared at him, like he thought Len was being weird too, and the sandy image made his face look a bit fuzzy. “Which is?”

“1629 Hadenly Avenue,” Leonard said stiffly. The sand made his body look like television static.

Jax looked around the group in the galley, frowning. “What’s in Handenly Avenue?” he wondered.

Rip shrugged, looking confused as well. “From the brief research I did for the team, I believe that’s where Mr. Snart grew up.”

Deserey shifted, her stomach deciding it would like to play twister. She knew from the small amount Leonard had shared with her that if he was going to his childhood – for lack of a better word – home than it meant nothing good.

“…Oh,” Mick said, looking a light bulb had gone off in his head, the sand swishing his form around slightly, as he sat up a bit. He must have known the address well and instantly recognized it.

“Shut up,” Len snapped. He whirled around, glaring at his partner in crime like he had something very offensive; the sand separated briefly as he moved, so for a moment he was invisible inside the image.

“That’s why you wanted to steal the Maximilian Emerald,” Mick said, completely ignoring him.

“Mick,” Leonard tried again, his voice rising a little. “Enough.”

“You wanted to give it to your old man,” Mick went on anyways, “so he wouldn’t go to jail trying to steal it for himself.”

Deserey remembered this story. He hadn’t told her all the details, but she knew enough to realize that this was the thing that had put Leonard's father on the path to becoming an abusive jack ass. Her stomach was really determined to win that twister game now…

Jax frowned. “Wait, his father was a thief too?”

Rip’s words from the library came to Deserey in a flash, and her stomach twisted some more. This was Leonard’s personal time line…
“We shouldn’t be watching this,” she decided. “How do I turn it off?”

“Well, it’s your powers,” Rip told her. “Don’t you know?”

“If I knew do you think I’d be asking you three?” Deserey hissed.

“Didn’t Rip say something about not messing with the time line?” Mick asked, and the image shook again as he stood, briefly giving the arsonist invisibility. Deserey frowned, noting that he had actually used the captain’s name instead of calling him ‘the Englishmen' like he normally did.
“You’re just gonna screw with history?” Mick hissed, seeming a little ticked by the idea.  

“Yeah, well, history screwed with me first,” Leonard shrugged, not seeming to care at all about his partner’s sudden mood change.

Mick rolled his eyes, which looked a little strange since he was currently made entirely out of sand. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “Just don’t come bitchin' to me when you erase yourself from the time line.”

Leonard rolled his own eyes, as he turned back around; the sand flickered and spread apart again at his movement. “If I erase myself from the time line, we’ll have no idea who each other are.”

“That’s my point, ya idiot!” Mick said rather loudly, which made the flimsy sand image shake slightly.

Leonard muttered something under his breath that Deserey couldn’t catch. (Probably a curse at Mick’s expense.) “Just give me the damn thing. We're here.”

Mick wordlessly tossed something at Len, which he almost dropped because the movement was so abrupt and unexpected. The sand swirled, forming a small green object in the ice villain’s hands. The Emerald, Dez guessed. Len glared at Mick, but the arsonist just shrugged carelessly, as his partner passed him.

The sand around Leonard's formed changed, swirling like a sandstorm before settling on the scenery of a suburban yard, a starry night sky above. Mick had disappeared, being replaced with a metal ship similar to the Waverider, though much smaller. Deserey guessed the Jump Ship wouldn’t even be a tenth of the entire Waverider.

Leonard took a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself before he went inside the brown house that now stood before him. He glanced around at the little swing set and tree in the yard, maybe letting a few memories wash over him, before continuing forward with a determined expression. Deserey's heart was taking a turn at the game of Twister now. She didn’t even want to know what it was like to be faced with the one place that held so much trauma.

The sand image swirled once more, as Leonard entered the house. The first thing Dez noticed was that the Snart house looked a bit like her own place, that is to say: messy. Empty beer bottles sat on the round table in the dining room, poker cards laying next to them. Dirty clothes lay every where, on the floor, on the furniture. Random news paper clippings were stacked on one desk, along with more empty bottles.

Leonard made like he was going to pick one up, as he passed by, but apparently he decided that would have been too unsanitary because he yanked his hand away quickly, frowning distastefully; the sand made his face look even more displeased. He silently walked through the kitchen, walking right by a pile of dirty dishes in the sink that would have driven Darryl insane and back into the messy living room.

He stopped, spotting the contents on the coffee table: a stack of coloring books, a plate with the remains of what must’ve been a sandwich based on the bread crusts, a plate full of crayons, and a tiny brown teddy bear. Leonard regarded the childish items the same way a bomb squad might regard a ticking time bomb.

“I came down for a glass of water.” The voice came just before the sand shifted to form the figure of a small boy, no older than eight years old, wearing little dinosaur pajamas.

Stein gaped at the image, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. “Is that –”

“Little Lenny?” Deserey finished. “I think so…”

Rip sighed, looking a bit on edge. Dez wondered if it was because he was worried Len would mess up the time line or if he was just being awkward about spying on the thief. (Not that she could blame him for either. Her stomach and heart were still going at it with a rather violent Twister game, after all.)

“I’m Leo,” the little boy said, looking up at his older self, innocently holding his cup of water. “Are you friends with my daddy?”

Leonard eyed his younger self apprehensively for a moment, considering his words carefully. His eyes had a sort of glassy look to them, something Deserey had never seen before, and she suspected that, had he known anyone was watching him, he wouldn’t have allowed it to form. “Kind of,” he decided.

“I think my daddy's sleeping,” Leo said helpfully. Leonard nodded and, after a moment's hesitation, he walked over and crouched before his younger self. “Can I tell you something, Leo? It’s important.” 

Rip looked like he was holding his breath a bit, as the younger Leonard nodded. But he relaxed a bit when the adult Leonard spoke his next words, only for the relief to be replaced with guilt. “Don’t ever let anyone hurt you. Ever,” Leonard told himself, and Deserey really knew this was something he wouldn’t be doing if he knew they were watching. Guilt perched itself on her shoulders like a hawk landing on its master's arm.

“Not here,” Leonard went on, pointing to his head. “And especially…” He gently touched his younger self's chest. “Not here.” He slowly took his hand back. “No matter what you always have to look out for yourself. Okay? You understand?” It was a voice Deserey hadn’t ever heard him use before. Normally he spoke with that cold drawl he was so famous for. This…this was soft and gentle, sort of like a little stream of water, drifting ever so with the wind.

“I think so,” Little Leo nodded, but the look on his face clearly stated he did not understand. Though before Leonard could say anything else to his younger self, a gun could be heard, readying for fire.

“Get the hell away from my boy, you son of a bitch,” a man hissed, as the sand swirled around to form his image.

“Why don’t you go on up to bed,” Leonard said kindly to Leo. The boy nodded and silently left, the sand swirling a bit as he popped out of the image. Leonard stood up and turned around to face, who Deserey guessed was, Lewis.

He didn’t look very much like Leonard, leaving Deserey the impression that Leonard must have gotten his appearance from his mother. The only thing Lewis shared with Len was his hair color: a dark brown. And even that was several shades off. He had dark, hostile brown eyes, and a blank expression that he may of worn when he was drunk off his ass. Around his face was a surprisingly well groomed beard, which sort of made Deserey wonder what Leonard would look like with facial hair.

Suddenly, Leonard's expression changed again, going back to his usual cold demeanor, if not a bit more intense. He walked around the dining room, pacing in an agitated manner, while Lewis grabbed the light above the dining room table, shining it on him and training his gun at his son’s chest. “Talk fast,” Lewis demanded, “or you take a bullet. What are you doing in my home?”

“A favor for you,” Leonard said, as Lewis let the light drop and spin around on it’s chain. Len reached in his pocket, where he had stuffed the diamond before coming inside. Lewis raised his gun, glaring.

“Watch it!” he hissed in warning.

“Relax,” Leonard whispered back, raising the Emerald.

Lewis' eyes widened with surprise. He started to ask, “How did you –”

“Two days from now, you try to steal this,” Leonard cut him off, “and you’ll get arrested, and you spend five years in Iron Heights.”

“What are you talking about?” Lewis asked, looking somewhere between completely shell shocked and playing dumb.

“Cut the crap,” Leonard hissed quietly, like he didn’t want to wake his younger self again. “We both know if I go down to the basement right now, I’ll find floor plans for the Central City museum. Let’s just say I’ve saved you the trouble…and from being arrested.” Leonard placed the Emerald none too gently on the counter top. 

Lewis glanced at the diamond, before lowering his gun and looking at Leonard skeptically. “How do you know all of this?”

“The same way I’ll know if you even think of raising a hand to your wife and child,” Leonard said, taking a few brave steps forward so that he and his father were nearly inches apart, his voice ten times colder than it was before. “I know who you are,” he added cryptically. “I know the man you become. And it’s all I can do to keep from ending you right here, right now, but if I do it means my sister’s never born…So, you get a pass.”

Leonard turned and left without another word, leaving Lewis frowning with confusion. “Your sister?” he asked the now empty room.

Then, all at once, the sand fell to the ground, the images disappearing as it did so. Deserey stared at the sand pile with wide eyes, her hand covering her mouth. Jax was sharing a frown with Stein, while Rip ran his hand along his face slowly.

“We…really should not have seen that,” Deserey muttered.

Annnd done. This chapter is a bit longer than normal…but I figured that would make up for the wait for the last chapter. And also the fact that updates for my fanfic might get a bit slower soon, since I want to focus on my original stories again. (Try to anyways)

Lemme know your thoughts in the comments!