A/N: Alright, so this is yet another attempt of mine to get more Mick stories out there. Seriously, that guy has it rough and he needs more love, both in the show and outside of it. Mick's younger in this story, about seventeen, and this story is an AU...I'm not going to share how it is one though, because that will be giving things away. Just read and find out for yourself.
I do not own Legends of Tomorrow. If I did, you can bet that I would be having more attention dedicated to Mick (seriously, am I the only one getting tired of the main plot of episodes always focusing on Sara? She's not even that interesting).
A pounding headache was the first thing that alerted Mick that he was conscious. It was painful, made remembering things a pain in the ass, and was definitely not the funnest way there was to wake up, but it was actually something that he was used to. Mick used to sneak out and get drunk all the time, and even though the hangovers were an absolute pain, the numb feeling that the alcohol brought was well worth the annoyance.
Yes, Mick had been drunk a number of times...and even with his head pounding so harshly that he could barely think coherently, he knew that this wasn't what a hangover felt like. This was something else. He didn't know what it was exactly, but he knew that much.
Mick tried to drag his hand to his head to make an ultimately useless attempt to ease the pain in his skull, but the slight movement caused his body to flare up painfully. Even if it didn't hurt, he still wouldn't have been able to move his hand far enough. He could barely move it a few inches before it was stopped in its tracks. If Mick had to take a guess, he would say that he was handcuffed to a bed.
And chances were, it wasn't in the fun way.
The longer Mick laid there, awake but with his eyes still closed, the more the rest of his senses came back to him. The next things Mick noticed was actually the last clue he needed. He could distinctly smell the fake cleanliness of the room. It smelled strongly of bleach, like a hospital.
Or like an infirmary.
Mick realized where he was. The distinct smell of a hospital/infirmary, as well as the fact that he was handcuffed to a bed told him that he was in the juvie's infirmary.
...right, he was in juvie right now. Kinda a strange thing to forget about. Mick suddenly remembered why he hated concussions so much. They messed with his head and made thinking and remembering things even more difficult than it already was...oh yeah, a concussion. That was why his head was hurting like a bitch, not because of a hangover. He should have known. Mick had gotten his fair share of concussions before.
Now, the question was, how did he end up with a freaking concussion in the first place?
Actually, Mick realized that he already knew the answer to that. There had been a fight, no surprise there. Fights happen all the time in juvie, and Mick himself wasn't exactly the most hesitant person to join in on the fun. But this time had been different somehow. Mick remembered there being uneven odds. Somebody had a shiv. And there was this kid. This young, small, stupid kid.
After remembering that kid Mick felt a surge of unexplainable protectiveness come over him. Suddenly he wanted, no, needed to know where this kid was and if he was okay. Mick forced his eyes opened and immediately regretted it. If there was one thing he always seemed to forget about hangovers and concussions alike it was that they caused a sensitivity to light.
Mick groaned and it felt like his headache just tripled in intensity. Stupid lights. Stupid him for not remembering that this would happen.
"Maybe not your brightest idea ever." Pain or no pain, Mick's eyes snap open at the sound of the all too familiar voice that he just couldn't place.
Mick turned towards the voice and when his eyes were focused enough that he could actually see properly he was a little thrown off by what he saw. There, sitting on the bed next to him, not even handcuffed to it, was the scrawny kid that he had saved. Somehow, the kid didn't look very beat up. Actually, Mick felt like he was in even worse shape than the kid was.
"Who the hell are you?" Mick asked. The kid smirked slightly, though there was a hesitant and almost pain filled look in his eyes.
"Leonard Snart." The kid said, and something about the name just sounded so familiar, and yet so wrong at the same time.
"Leo, huh?" Mick felt like he should know that name. The kid's eyes flashed...something, but he didn't say anything.
"Sure, call me whatever you want, Mick." Leo said. Mick frowned slightly in confusion. Had he told the kid his name? Huh. He must have. Except...he really didn't think he had. Mick was just about to ask how Leo seemed to know who he was, but at that moment the doctor entered. She was an okay looking lady, but not somebody that Mick would look at twice in a crowd.
Mick hated hospitals and everything similar to them, but he had enough experience with them to know that everything would go smoother for everybody if he just sat still and answered questions. Mick kept his hands (And his eyes) to himself as the doctor gave him a quick look over.
"Well, Rory, it looks like you're good to go here." She handed him some pain medication, which he gladly took. "Do you have any feelings of nausea?" Mick shook his head. His head was still hurting like hell, but he wasn't feeling even the least bit sick. He kinda got off lucky this time. "Well, tell the guards if there's any change," (Like they would care.) "And I don't want to see you in here again, got it?"
"Got it." Mick muttered, though they both knew he would probably be back within a week. Mick had a tendency of getting into fights. Either he irked somebody and they attacked him, he would get annoyed with somebody else and punch them in the face, or he would see a fight already going on and wanted a piece of the action. Whatever the case, Mick was pretty much a regular in the infirmary.
Mick held out his hand and waited impatiently as the guard who came in behind the doctor uncuffed him from the bed, and then moved the handcuffs so they were on both of his wrists instead. The guard wasn't all that gentle in getting Mick to move, but he was pretty much used to that by now. It was extremely rare to find a gentle prison or juvie guard. They were an extremely rare species.
It was only when the guard had practically pulled Mick out of the room did he realize that neither of the adults had even spared a glance in Leo's direction. "Hey, what about-" But the guard wasn't hearing it. He scowled and gave Mick a completely unnecessary shove, sending the message that he wasn't supposed to be talking, for some reason. As Mick left he looked back to see Leo right where he had been before, watching him. He only bothered to face forward again when Leo was out of sight.
Even though it was dinner time, Mick was lead straight back to his cell. Normally he would complain, he hated missing a meal, but he didn't bother this time. First off, because he knew the guard wouldn't take him to the mess hall when dinner would only last for a few more minutes. Second off, his concussion was really not making the thought of food very appealing.
Mick was locked back in his cell and not for the first he found himself extremely grateful that he wasn't stuck bunking with anybody. He didn't do sharing. Even though he could feel his stomach rumbling in protest, he actually was kinda hungry, Mick laid face down on the bottom bunk of the bed. He knew that he had just barely woken up, but damn it all, his head was hurting and he just wanted to sleep.
As he was beginning to doze off Mick briefly tried to remember whether sleep was good or bad for a concussion...eh, who cared? Mick certainly didn't, he was too tired.
He would figure out whether this was a mistake or not after a quick nap.
Mick slowly woke up a few hours later. His head was throbbing painfully, but it was much more bearable than the pounding he had been dealing with before. Mick pulled himself onto his elbow and looked around, still half asleep. It was dark, and extremely quiet, with the only sound being the guard who was making his late night rounds. Everybody else was likely asleep.
Mick was considering rolling over and joining them, but he didn't when he remembered just why he had woken up. Mick had had a nightmare, a beautiful, horrifying and extremely vivid nightmare…One that he couldn't remember at all. He thought there was something to do with a fire in it, or maybe it had been a nightmare about being back on his family's farmhouse, which really would be a nightmare. Whatever his bad dream had been about, all Mick knew was that it had felt extremely real.
"You look like you had a good sleep." A sarcastic, bored, and extremely familiar voice drawled. Mick about jumped out of his skin and ended up hitting his head on the bunk above him.
"Damn." Mick groaned and doubled forward, his hands on top of his head. Ow. As if his head hadn't already been sore enough as it was. He turned his head and glared to the side where he saw that punk head from the infirmary leaning down from the top bunk, smirking at him.
"You have a bad dream?" The brat asked in a patronizing, mocking tone. Mick scowled. He hated it when people talked to him like that. His older brothers used to do it all the time. For some reason that thought caused a dark, painful, and almost completely hopeless feeling to come over him.
...Used to.
"Shut up." Mick shoved his pillow roughly in Leo's face. He quickly regretted it because now the kid had his only pillow and Mick was still exhausted. He wouldn't give Leo the satisfaction of asking/demanding for his pillow back, so Mick decided to just use his arm as a pillow. He lay down with his back to the kid, and even though it wasn't the most comfortable position, Mick had dealt with worse.
He had only been lying there for a moment when he heard creaking from the top bunk. An instant later there was a light thud as Leo jumped from his bed to the floor. Mick didn't know what he was up to, maybe he was just taking a piss, but he really couldn't care less. He just wanted to sleep.
That idea went out the window when he felt his bed sink in slightly as Leo sat down at the edge of it. "...Do you want to talk about it?"
No, he didn't. Why would he want to talk about something that he couldn't even remember? Especially when that something was so personal, and the person asking was a kid that he barely knew.
"I can't talk about it." Mick said quietly. "Even if I wanted to talk about it, I don't remember." He wondered why he wasn't growling or grumbling at the kid like he usually would. Mick was not a quiet or gentle talker, so what was with him using that tone now? Was it just because it was so late and he was tired? No, that couldn't be it, because Mick got even more irritable when he was tired.
The kid 'h'mmed' thoughtfully. Mick heard a quiet click that he immediately recognized. All of his fatigue seemed to go away in an instant as Mick lifted his head and turned to see the kid holding a lighter with a small, flickering flame.
Mick's lighter.
He desperately wanted to snatch the lighter away, snap it shut, and throw it out of the cell without a second thought, though he wasn't sure why he would even want to do that. But he couldn't. The flame was just so beautiful, he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. The fire was just so small, so enticing, so harmless.
...harmless. No fire was harmless. As if to remind himself of that Mick held his hand over the flame. He could feel the heat burn his already red and blistering hand. It hurt like hell, but he didn't have even the slightest desire to pull away. Maybe this burning feeling, this pain, was exactly what he deserved.
Besides, if it was so wrong for him to be doing this, then why was Leo just watching him, almost as though he approved? It was only after a few minutes had passed did Leo speak up about it.
"Maybe you should take a break for now." He suggested. "You don't want the guard's getting suspicious." Mick reluctantly closed the lighter that he must've taken from Leo at some point, because he knew the kid had a point. He could watch the flames lick at his skin all night, but if any guard got wise to what he was doing his lighter would be confiscated, and then where would he be?
"Get out of my business, kid." Mick growled grumpily. Just because Leo was right and they were now cellmates did not mean that Mick wanted to hear what he wanted to say. Actually, were they even cellmates. When had that happened? "What are you even doing here?"
"You don't see me asking you why you're in juvie." Leo said, which caused Mick to pause. That wasn't what he had asked...actually, why was he in prison? Mick felt like he should know this, but he really didn't want to think about it. When he did start to think about it...no, he didn't want to. The ugly feeling in his gut just wasn't worth it. So Mick stopped trying to think about it. He just avoided it all together.
And in his opinion the best way to avoid something, whether it was unwanted thoughts or chores, was by sleeping.
Mick roughly kicked the kid off his bed, snatched his pillow from off the floor (he was lucky the kid hadn't claimed it for himself) rolled over and tried to fall asleep. He could hear Leo getting up off the floor and climb up to his own bed. The cell was silent for a few minutes and Mick had nearly fallen asleep when he heard Leo speak to him one more time from the upper bunk.
"Nobody here is innocent, Micky, we all have our demons to live with." Leo said in that stupid, condescending voice of his that Mick couldn't help but listen to. "The question is, are you going to ignore them, or embrace them?"
The thing was, Mick had no idea. He really wanted to just ignore and forget about his problems, but something told him that wouldn't work very well. Was the only other option to embrace his inner darkness?
Mick didn't really want to do that either, but he didn't think that he actually had a choice. With that cheerful thought Mick fell asleep. Once again he found himself having dreams filled with fire, fear, amazement and pain. Dreams that he, once again, couldn't remember after he woke up.
The next few days Mick found himself with a stalker. That Leo kid always seemed to be following him around everywhere he went. The brat always insisted on shooting his mouth off and saying things that were either sarcastic or made Mick think about something that he would rather forget about.
Needless to say, Mick found the kid annoying and just wished that he could get rid of him...at the same time though, he didn't. He still had that same feeling of fierce protectiveness towards the kid. He didn't know why, but considering it was the only real feeling other than numb boredom or anger that Mick had had since he had been sent to juvie, he was willing to roll with it.
Mick had known from the start that keeping the kid from getting himself killed was going to be a very difficult challenge. He was young, probably barely even fourteen, and was likely the smallest kid in there. As if that wasn't bad enough, the kid had a mouth on him to rival anyone else's. Leo wasn't afraid to let his opinion be known, which Mick might have admired if the kid was tough enough to protect himself from any heat he would get because people didn't like what he said.
Mick didn't like playing the part of a bodyguard, but...well, he did like heat. Besides, what else was he supposed to do, let his cellmate get kill? Sure, kids died in juvie all the time, and it hadn't really bothered Mick before, but for some reason it made him sick to his stomach to think of the same thing happening to Leo.
Luckily, he really didn't have to worry about the kid nearly as much as he thought he would. For some reason Leo was left alone. No matter how many snarky comments he made, he was ignored by everybody. The guards didn't try to intimidate him, the other kids didn't try to threaten him. It was as though nobody seemed to know that Leo even existed.
Honestly though, Mick was more than fine with that. It certainly made his job easier. A small part of him wondered why though. Nobody, especially not someone like Leo, can fly so far under the radar in juvie. It just didn't happen. Mick was curious about why nobody was giving Leo a hard time, but he didn't really question it that much. Mick really wasn't big on overthinking things. He left that to people like Leo.
Mick just contented himself with thinking that nobody dared to mess with Leo because they didn't dare to mess with him. After all, Mick was a fairly intimidating guy, even if he wasn't the oldest, strongest or biggest person there he had still made a bit of a reputation for himself. Everybody here knew what he could do with fire, and it was fairly common knowledge that he had gotten his hands on a lighter, which he could do a lot of damage with.
Mick wasn't exactly sure how his obsession with fire had become a thing that everybody was aware of, but he didn't worry much about it. He would be crazy to complain about people knowing about his 'little' obsession when it was probably the only thing keeping them off his back for just being a dimwitted farm boy.
Mick knew better than to question why things were going easy for him and Leo. He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth...even though that was one thing that his father had actually taught him to always do. What could he say? His dad was a picky, stubborn bastard farmer who would never accept anything less than perfection, even if that something was a gift...or a son...or, hell, even five sons. The man was never satisfied.
Yep, his dad was definitely a bastard.
And Mick refused to be anything like him, so yeah, he was absolutely willing to accept things at face value. It wasn't as though he was smart enough to actually figure out how to dig into things, and he definitely wasn't motivated enough to do so.
So, yeah, until the real reason for things was spelled out for him, Mick was going to continue to hang out with Leo and appreciate that nobody seemed to have it out for him.
Mick was usually with Leo, because the kid always happened to be wherever he was...most of the time. There were a number of times though when Mick couldn't find Leo anywhere, no matter where he looked. This had worried him those first few days, because he thought something might happen, but he stopped worrying as he got used to it. Leo always came back to him, though it was kind of annoying that he never told Mick where he went when he was gone. Oh, and that he always seemed to disappear and reappear out of freaking nowhere. Mick could do without that.
Things seemed to go smoothly, almost too smoothly, for about a month before anything happened. The long break had caused Mick to get cocky, weak. Fortunately for him, growing up with three older brothers had taught him to never fully let his guard down. He was able to tense up right away when six punks, the same ones that had jumped Leo his first day in, surrounded Mick as he was eating his lunch in the mess hall.
Mick wasn't wimp enough to be even the least bit intimidated by these guys. It's not like they could hurt Leo, because he wasn't even there (Mick had long since stopped worrying about where he ran off to). He didn't even consider that they were here just for him. Mick was just irritated that they were cutting into his food time.
Mick didn't even look at the guys, but not in a 'I'm-scared-please-don't-hurt-me' way but in a 'you're-not-even-worth-my-time' kind of way. Sometimes that kind of approach caused people to get bored easily and leave, but not this time. Bradley "Mangler" Patrick (Yeah, Mick thought that it was a stupid name too) sat himself next to Mick and leaned in close, smirking like he knew something that he didn't.
Mick hated that look. Leo gave it to him all the time.
"What do you want, Mangler?" Mick asked grumpily. He was oh so tempted to call him 'Bradley', but he had decided against it. That would just get him a ticket to the infirmary, and Mick really wasn't in the mood for that today.
"We just thought you looked lonely over here." Mangler said in a tone that clearly said that he was up to something. "Come on, j-cat, where's your friend?"
Mick stiffened. So this was about Leo. If these idiots thought he would let them hurt the kid, they had another thing...wait a second, had Mangler just called him 'j-cat'?
"What?" Mick broke his rule of not even looking at these guys. He glared at Mangler in disbelief and confusion. "What did you just call me?" Mick didn't exactly consider himself fluent in prison slang, but he did know what j-cat meant, and he wasn't one. "And why should you care where Leo is?"
For some reason, that just made Mangler and his cronies laugh hysterically, as if he had just delivered the punch line to the greatest joke in the world.
"Oh my god," Mangler wiped away a fake tear, which just infuriated Mick even more. What was so goddamn funny?! "You seriously have no idea. Rory, you really are a j-cat."
"I am not!" Mick shoved Mangler away from him and got to his feet. "Just because I hang out with some kid does not mean that I'm...that!"
"See, that's the best part." Mangler stood up and Mick was loath to notice how much taller than him Mangler was. "You've been talking to this 'Leo' for weeks now, and you can't even see what is right in front of you. Everybody in here knows it, except you."
"Knows what?" Mick spat, even as he briefly cast his eyes around and noticed that they were being watched. Everybody in juvie loved a good fight, and they were all probably at the edge of their seats, waiting for things to escalate. The weird thing was, so many people were looking at Mick as though he was the butt of some stupid joke. The few who weren't looking at him like that almost had a look of pity on their face, which Mick somehow hated even more.
Mangler could tell that he had a captive audience, and he reveled in it. The jerk leaned even closer to Mick so they were nose to nose. "That your little friend, Leo, doesn't exist."
Mick reacted on instinct. He took a step back, which just got Mangler smirking, probably because he thought that Mick was running or something. He wasn't. He just wanted more room so he could give that bastard the punch in the face that he deserved. There was a loud crack when Mick's first came in contact with Mangler's face, followed immediately by a sharp cry of pain as the idiot tried to staunch the sudden blood flow.
Never before had Mick found it so satisfying to break somebody's nose. Still, he wasn't satisfied yet. Mick clenched at Mangler's shirt and pulled him forward, so they were eye to eye. Mick glared at him darkly, but Mangler was still chuckling slightly, which was absolutely infuriating. Mick had broken his freakin' nose, and this guy was still laughing at him?! Let him have just a few more hits and they would see who would be laughing then.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Mick growled.
"You really are a j-cat." Mangler spat blood out of his mouth. "You really haven't noticed that this Leo kid has never even talked to anybody else before?"
Actually, Mick had noticed that. He just hadn't thought much of it. Leo just didn't like to socialize, so what? "That doesn't mean anything." The dozens of sniggers around the mess hall told him that many people seemed to think otherwise. Well, wasn't that just fan-freaking-tastic? All Mick had wanted was to eat his lunch in peace, and now people were watching him like he was the freaking entertainment.
"So talking to things that aren't really there doesn't mean anything?" Some random kid in the crowd muttered. He was only a year or two older than Leo, and had even arrived the same day. "Sure, j-cat."
Mick snarled. There was no way he was going to let some random fish get away with disrespecting him like that. Mick let go of Mangler's shut and lunged towards the kid. Before anybody could blink he had smashed the kid's head into the table, knocking him right out. Mick got the brief satisfaction of seeing the unconscious kid's head bleed before he was rammed into from the side.
Mick recovered quickly and punched his attacker in the ribs. If a fight was what these idiots wanted, then it's what they were going to get! Mick didn't even care that it was basically every single inmate against him, he would still take them on. And if he didn't win, then he certainly was going to cause hell for as many of these guys as he could.
It didn't take long for the guards (where the hell had they been?) to get word of the fight and step in to break it up. Most of the kids backed down when the guards came in, but not Mick. He was too pissed off and hyped up on adrenalin to even care about the guards. He was too busy trying to smash Mangler's face in.
It took three different guards to pull a struggling Mick off of a barely conscious Mangler, and it was quickly decided that he was too unstable at the moment to be put in his regular cell. Without even having to talk about it, or even discuss it with the higher ups of the juvie, the guards dragged Mick kicking and screaming to solitary confinement.
Mick was thrown unceremoniously into a dark, solitary cell and locked in. Mick was still feeling extremely pissed off and had a bunch of aggression that he still needed to burn off. He needed to hit something, somebody, and actually cause some damage. Throwing a fit with no consequences wouldn't do him any good. After a minute or two of punching and shouting at the door, Mick gave up trying to get out. He would have to find another way to get rid of his frustration.
And he knew exactly how to do it.
Mick sat down on the floor, his back against the door, and took out his lighter. He was lucky the guards had been in such a rush to get him locked up, that they had forgotten to search for contraband. Mick flicked open the lighter and clicked it to get a little flame going. Mick stared at it for a minute before holding it out under his bloody and sore hand.
Mick hissed in pain as he felt the fire dance under his already sensitive skin, but he didn't pull away. This was a good pain, one that distracted him from unwanted thoughts that were caused by stupid idiots who thought they knew everything.
It was also a pain that he knew he deserved. Fire was dangerous and destructive, and this was just the reminder that Mick needed of that fact. Fire always needed something to burn, and he figured that for as long as it was him who was burning, nobody else would.
Mick sat alone in the darkness, with the small fire as his only source of light and his own hisses of pain as the only sound. He could still feel the pain from the burns, but somehow he didn't feel the pain, or register it as such. Because pain was bad, and this wasn't. The fire and the burning wasn't bad, he was.
Some people said that fire was only as dangerous as the person who was controlling it, but that didn't make Mick feel any better about it, because he was the one who had the flame in his hands, and he was definitely dangerous, even when he didn't want to be. Besides, no flame could be controlled, and only idiots believed that they could.
Mick had once been an idiot.
He had lost control of a fire. That was why he was here…
Mick clenched his lighter tighter in his hand and brought the flame even closer to his palm in an attempt to burn away the pain. He did not want to think about that, not now, not ever. It was best just to ignore that it had ever happened in the first place.
"Really, Micky?" A familiar, snarky voice came out of the darkness. Mick lifted his eyes and stared in shock. Leo was standing right in front of him, but how could he? Mick was in solitary, he should be the only person allowed in here. Leo had definitely not been in here earlier, and Mick had been leaning against the door the whole time, so it wasn't as though he had gotten in that way.
"Leo, what're you-" Mick pushed himself further against the wall, suddenly feeling the urge to get away from Leo.
The younger boy scowled, his look much darker than it had ever been before. "You really haven't learned your lesson?" Leo squatted down so that he was at Mick's eye level. "When you play with fire, somebody's going to get burned.
"Why should you care?" Mick frowned and turned his eyes back to the flame. "You've seen me burn myself before, and you weren't bothered then."
"Who said I was worried about you?" Leo said in a nasty tone that just didn't sound right. "Anybody who's around you is at risk because of your obsession. Me, the guards, the inmates...your family."
"Shut up." Mick muttered. He clenched his fists tightly. He didn't want to hear this.
"They're dead because of you, Micky." Leo said darkly.
Mick couldn't take it any more. "Shut up!" He screamed and threw his lighter at Leo...except his so called friend wasn't there. He had disappeared entirely and Mick's lighter clattered harmlessly against the floor.
Mick cast his eyes around uneasily, but he saw no signs of his friend. He wasn't in there...and he probably hadn't been in the first place. He had just imagined Leo being there. Mick knew that that was true, but...it just didn't seem possible. Leo had been right in front of him, he had heard his voice crystal clear. Had he really just imagined it?
A terrifying thought came to Mick's mind. If he had just now imagined Leo being there, who was to say that he hadn't been hallucinating him the whole time? Mick felt his stomach clench painfully and he felt like he was going to be sick. Had he...had Leo just been a hallucination this whole time?
He wanted to say no, but...he really wasn't sure. What Mangler had said earlier, and the fact that Leo was always disappearing and reappearing out of thin air told Mick that Leo wasn't actually real, but…But it had felt so real. Is it possible to hallucinate something so clearly? And what if Leo was real and everything else was the hallucination?
Mick really wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't anymore.
Oh, god, Mangler was right. Mick really was a j-cat.
He really was insane.
A/N: Why am I always so mean to my favorite character? It seems a little backwards to me. Anyways, this story isn't quite over yet. There will be another chapter after this one, maybe I'll finally cut Mick a break in it...or not, we'll just have to see.