Author's Note: So, this is gonna be a quick Christmas Fic. It's been so long since I've written, and its been kinda nice writing again. Though I have found I've been making some mistakes - stupid title for my other ongoing fic, poor choice of surname for OC as well – it's starting to become a little easier each week. Hope you all enjoy.


Chapter One

Once Upon a Time, Charlie Donovan gave a shit. She'd been one of those types - you know the spazes who loved the holidays - embracing mankind and geeking out on randomly placed elves and mistletoe. Black Fridays, decked out Christmas trees, and gag worthy holiday romcoms, were all part of her holiday itinerary. But now – well it was easy to say the blinders were off. The holidays were basically like a knife to the heart, reminding her of the life she once had, should have had . . . before.

Before S.T.A.R. labs had ruined her and her family's lives. Before her future had been ripped out of her grasp and epically destroyed in the most unfair and ironic way. And before it became crystal clear that the good guy – well they didn't always win. In fact, as far as Charlie could see, the universe took immense pleasure putting the screws to the really good people.

But the bad ones, those who fed on the weak and harmed with little disregard, they seemed to slip through the cracks with barely a scratch. Surprising little tidbit, not all 'bad guys' could be found in seedy bars and knocking over liquor stores. They could also be found sitting around conference tables planning on creative ways to screw over the 'little man', or at their work stations in some privately-owned labs creating whatchamacallit gizmos that would eventually blow up and wreaked havoc on a city of ignorant innocents.

Another nifty tidbit, the bad guys didn't care if it was Christmas either. People basically just sucked.

"Sweetie, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like crap."

"Makes sense, seeing that I feel like roadkill." Dropping her purse onto the bar top, Charlie frowned at the lingering customers around the stage area, before turning back to the bleach blonde behind the bar. "Also, explains the sucky tips."

"I think you'll find it has nothing to do with the dark circles around your eyes, but the time of year." Daphne, a retired striper who couldn't seem to leave the night life behind, nodded to the group of men with a sour look on her make-up caked face. "It's the same every freaking year. These jack wades come in here after their uptight Christmas parties, thinking the strip club is come kind of damn petting zoo. Do they spend any money? No. Because their anal-retentive wives analyze the banking statements, making sure every last penny is accounted for. And don't get me started on how no one seems to carry cash anymore."

"Good to know." Turning to see if the crowd had thinned out, Charlie muttered under her breath and took a seat at the bar. Sure, her job basically blew, and never in a million years had she thought her life would get to a point where she would need to twirl around a pole to make ends meet. "Do they also feel closing time is optional?"

"If you were married to a Pinterest-pill-popping addict, and had snotty nosed spawn who needed a safe room every time the wind changed, would you want to go home?" Grabbing another glass, Daphne smirked.

"There's a myth out there that a person needs to date before being saddled with a life sucking spouse and life destroying kids." Trying to match the older woman's snark, Charlie winced at how nearly pathetic she sounded. "Or so I heard."

"Yeah, this job can really turn you off of relationships." Pausing for a moment, Daphne eyed the younger woman critically. "Sweetheart let me give you some free advice."

"Men are scum and life basically sucks?" Pulling her strawberry blonde hair back into a ponytail, Charlie saw that the other woman was being serious. Ever since joining the staff of Diamonds the older woman had been relatively nice to her, and had passed on a few needed tips of the trade. "Shoot."

"This place, what you do, it's just a job, a paycheck. These idiots who show up, they're walking bank accounts, and it's your task to syphon as much as you can from them. But don't let this lifestyle take control of you, cause it'll take you down a road that will devour you. Stay off the drugs, don't let the men touch, and for the love of God don't think your gonna meet your future husband here. That's how some of these girls get trapped. You, your smarter than that, I can tell. Use this job to get on your feet and get the hell out." The advice sounded legit, and Charlie fidgeted on the bar stool under the other woman's intense stare.

"Trust me, this isn't exactly what I discussed with my High School guidance counselor." Feeling the bitter feel of failure churning in her stomach, Charlie lowered her gaze.

"I won't lie, you got dealt a crap hand." Returning to her task, Daphne wrung out the washcloth. "How's your Grams?"

Hating the lump that grew at the thought of her Grams, and feeling like a big fat baby for wanting to crawl off to a dark corner and cry, Charlie forced on a brave face. "She's having a good week."

"And that baby sister of yours?"

"Oh, she basically hates me." Drawing circles on the newly washed bartop, Charlie could feel her left eye starting to twitch. "I've ruined her life because I need her help at night with Grams, that she's the only person at school who's not going to the winter formal."

"Let me guess, Rick the Dick wouldn't give you the night off so she could go?" Daphne snorted.

"Laughed me out of the office."

"Someday your sister will see everything you did to keep a roof over her head, food in her stomach, and clothes on her ungrateful ass."

"I don't know, she seems pretty determined to make me as miserable as possible." Trying to pull the conversation away from the path of doom and gloom, Charlie carelessly shrugged her shoulders. "Which makes her happy, so there's that I guess." Looking over to where the men were still gathered, she let out a frustrated sigh. "Can they just leave? It makes me nervous having these bottom feeders lingering around. I know it's stupid, but I don't even want them knowing what kind of car I drive."

"Where you parked?"

"About a block away on Pine Street."

"Have one of the guys let you out the back."

"Yeah, walking down a dark, creepy, not to mention nasty alley sounds like a safer option."

Letting out a bark of laughter, Daphne shook her head. "Up to you darlin, but it doesn't look like Rick's kicking those fools out anytime soon."

Turning back, Charlie let out a moan when her eyes took in her jerk boss at one of the tables, drinking with the customers. "I hate my life."

"If it makes you feel safer, you can take my mace." The offer was tempting, and basically all Charlie wanted was to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep until Spring. Though in reality, her insomnia would kick in to keep her company for the night. With the possibility of sleep on the line, Charlie knew her ability to make decisions was under serious consideration as she pondered just how bad it'd be walking just a block.

"I'm going to regret this, and will probably end up spraying myself in the face, but I can't stay around here all night."

On the bright side, the alley was better lit than she'd envisioned, the down side to that though was that it just meant she had better lighting to enhance all the reasons she should turn back around and bang on the club's back door until one of the bouncers let her in. The stink radiating off the dumpsters was enough force her to keep walking forward, as thoughts of a long hot shower flittered through her head. Then there was the mushy feeling asphalt beneath her feet, which she was pretty certain wasn't slush from the recent snow fall. It was going to take a week to feel clean again.

Keeping her eyes trained forward, she tried to pretend she was in no way doing what was probably just one of the many stupid things she'd been accumulating over the past two years. It would be one thing if she'd made the choices that had put her on this path, but she hadn't. Her life, before S.T.A.R. freaking labs, had been one of structure, hard work and determination. All it'd taken was one night, one fluke accident, and everything in her world had been turned upside down.

First, it'd been her Grams getting sick, with some freaky mutated form of what the doctors could only guess was cancer. While all the doctors were left scratching their heads, the jerk offs at Central City Pharmaceuticals clued in on the link between the explosion, and the new mystery illness which was being found in babies and the elderly. It hadn't taken them long to find a treatment, but being the money hungry douchebags they were, slapped a hefty price tag on their miracle cure. So basically, unless a patient had a real understanding insurer willing to pay ten grand for a treatment, had an extra 10k, or knew someone with nifty healing powers, they eventually died. Painfully.

Of course, the little glitch with knowing a metahuman with healing powers was that it didn't technically heal the condition, just bought the person more time.

Then there had been – coming to a complete standstill, her heart skipping a painful beat inside her chest as a shadow to her right moved just enough to catch her attention from wandering thoughts. The longer she stood frozen in what she prayed was a puddle of slush, the surer she was that she could see the outline of a boot peeking out from behind a dumpster. As her brain started to return to somewhat normal capacity, it urged her to run as fast as she could, and not look back until she was safely locked away inside her car. Executing the plan didn't work out so well, seeing how she was still in the same location, three minutes later.

Sucking in a deep breath, while forcing one foot in front of the other, Charlie forced herself to move. The closer she got to the shadowy outline, the surer it was indeed a boot and unfortunately it appeared to be attached to a leg. After that she knew it went without saying an entire body would follow. Why couldn't it just be a random boot?

Moving as quietly as she could, she spared a brief glance as she passed the dumpster, and nearly cried in relief when the person appeared to be asleep. Feeling as though she was scott free, she froze again when her eyes fell onto the smeared bloody handprint on the industrial green of the dumpster. Her glance trailed to the form still hidden by the shadows and fought her instinct to ensure the individual was okay. Hadn't she learned already that no good deed went unpunished? What she needed to just keep walking, get in her car and drive home.

Definitely not inching closer to get a better look.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, and as her the person took shape she knew without a doubt God or someone up there hated her. A lot. Because it was the only explanation as to why Leonard Snart, Central Cities most wanted criminal was sitting there before her in a pool of his own blood.

Standing up way quicker than she should've, Charlie did the first smart thing she'd done all night and moved away from the wanted criminal. "This isn't happening." Lifting her head up, to stare at the smog filled sky, she couldn't help but yell. "I really don't think this is funny, and between you and me – you suck."

Turning her attention back to where Leonard Snart lay prone, she fumed and stomped her foot in a mix of anger and frustration. "I don't owe you anything, and honestly you wouldn't give me the time of day if our situations were reversed. So don't take this the wrong way, but I just don't have it in me. It's not you, well yeah perhaps it is just a little bit, but its mostly me."

Taking a step back, and then another she turned her back on the dying man and made it at least three more steps before a child sized tantrum took over her feet as she kicked and stomped until the balls and tips of her toes ached. With one last yell, that echoed off the brick alley walls, she spun back to him and moved quickly to kneel by his side.

"If you wake up and shoot me I'm gonna be pissed." Taking in his face, she tried to ignore the fact he wasn't hard on the eyes, she moved her eyes down his slouched torso. His thick, fur lined winter jacket covered way too much, and with an overburdened sigh her fingers went to the zipper. "Sure, hope you still respect me in the morning."

Once she could move his body enough to maneuver the jacket off she found the issue, well about ten issues to be exact. "This is the last time I ever use the back exit into a freaking alley." Peeling the blood-soaked shirt from his skin, she let out a long whistle. "Someone really hates you."

Placing a hand over the first entry wound, Charlie tried hard not to think about how unsanitary it was, and concentrated instead on the metal objects inside Snart's body. With a deep breath in and then out, she let the fog take over her mind and soon the bullet was in the palm of her hand. Fighting against the inevitable vertigo, Charlie used squeezed her eyes shut until the world stopped going wonky.

Over and over she carefully extracted the bullets from his body, until the last one was removed. "Hard part is over, for you I guess, another minute and you'll be good as new."

This time she envisioned the damage done inside, the torn muscles, broken bones, arteries, organs, anything really that had been shredded by ten little slugs. When she was ready, she moved his body to lean forward and placed both hands palm down upon his skin. Soon her fingers tingled, which moved quickly to her palms, making them almost itch.

The effort was intense, and the vertigo was nearly enough to make her sick. Feeling the damage healing, Charlie fought against the tide that was threatening to pull her under. When at last the outer wound, itself was closed, Charlie felt darkness take over, and this time she welcomed it.