— Rip Hunter, "Last Refuge"
Lisa didn't even know she had a brother until she was eleven.
She was sitting in her favourite booth at the Boxcar with her grandfather, dipping her fries in her chocolate milkshake, the fans all over the diner not doing much to fight the oppressive summer heat outside. She pulled the hair tie out of her hair for the sixth time and tried retying her ponytail higher, to keep her long, thick hair up off her neck.
She wasn't supposed to be having a shake made with ice-cream because it was going to spoil her dinner. Her mom was crazy strict about that. But lunch at the Boxcar with Pops was their little secret.
All the ice in his Coke had melted, making it look like iced tea, and Lisa was about to ask him if he wanted another Coke, when out of the blue he'd said "You know, he'd have been twenty-six today."
"Who, Pops?"
He pushed the plate with the crusts from his grilled cheese and empty cup of soup to the side, and reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. Lisa picked up his Zippo from the counter, handing it to him.
He fished a cigarette from the soft pack, tapping it on the tabletop. The smell of lighter fluid momentarily overpowered the salt, grease, and sweat until he clicked it shut on the flame.
"Your brother, Leo."
Lisa froze. She'd heard the name a few times in her life, but when she'd asked, her mom refused to talk about it. She'd always figured he was some cousin she'd never met, or something. The last time had been when Lisa was seven, during the epic screaming match between her parents, right before her dad stopped coming for visitation.
"What happened to him?"
Pops took a long drag on his cigarette before answering. "He was stolen from the hospital the day he was born. The police assumed it was a kidnapping case. That maybe someone on the hospital staff was in on it. But they never found out who did it. It was like he just disappeared."
Lisa was blown away. If her eyes were any wider, she was pretty sure they'd fall out of her head. "No way. Seriously?"
"Oh, it was all over the news. Everyone in Central City knew the story. For a long time Leonard Snart was famous for being a name on a milk carton. They even made a TV movie about it, before you were born. I Know My First Name is Leo or some foolishness. The names were all changed of course, but the reporter who'd covered the story for Picture News—his name was in the credits. Your mother cried for days, and your dad disappeared for the better part of a week. Probably on a bender, if I know Lewis."
Pops scowled as he tapped ash into the tin ashtray in the centre of the scarred table. Pops flat-out hated Lisa's dad. For a long time, Lisa was sure it was because Pops thought nobody would ever be good enough for her mom. But then when her dad basically stopped coming around at all, and money got tight, she started to believe maybe Pops was right, and her dad was more than just a lousy father.
"How come I didn't know any of this? Why didn't anyone ever tell me?"
"Carole—your mother—she just wanted to move on. That's why she went back to her maiden name. There was so much media attention, both from the case, and then the lawsuit. Your father was so angry all the time—he'd been a hothead before, but then he started drinking. And the money from the settlement should have been enough to live on for a long, long time, but… well, that's all water under the bridge."
Lisa felt weird—like she was sitting in the diner with Pops, the same as usual, but nothing felt real. Like this was a dream and any second she'd wake up.
Her folks had split up when she was two, and she only saw her dad on holidays. It was supposed to have been more than that, but most of the time he never showed up for visitation. Her mom was always on the phone with Mrs Kelley talking about Lewis 'missing the payments'. Lisa knew from pictures that once upon a time her parents had lived in a the house on Hadley Avenue, but that had been a long time ago. The only home she'd ever known was the apartment in Leawood they shared with Pops. She'd always been 'Lisa Bates'.
"I have a big brother," Lisa said, blinking. Her fingers were wet from the condensation on the tall glass that held her chocolate shake, and she wiped them on her thigh, shivering. "Do you think he knows he has a sister? Do you think he might ever come back?"
"Oh sweetheart—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you. Your mom never wanted you to know. It just slipped out when I saw the calendar."
"Is today his birthday?"
He stubbed the half-smoked butt out. "Yes."
"Do you think he's having a party? Maybe he grew up in one of those ginormous mansions in Windsor Heights. Like a prince in a fairy tale. And he has a bajillion different fancy cars, and wears a different gold watch every day just because he can." She was really getting into the idea of having a secret big brother, now. "Maybe he'll find out about us, and come to Leawood in a limousine with a driver and everything. And we can all live with him in a mansion."
When they got home, Lisa was so excited and asked if they had any pictures of Leo. The knife her mom was using to chop tomatoes for the salad fell on the floor. But she didn't pick it up. Instead she leaned against the kitchen counter, the heels of her hands pressed to her eyes while her shoulders shook.
"Lisa, go to your room."
"But Mom—"
"Right now, young lady. Do not make me tell you twice."
Her mom never yelled at her, so Lisa ran out of the kitchen and slammed the door to her bedroom. But the walls were thin, and she could still hear voices from the living room.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Dad?"
Lisa started to shake. Not only did her mom never yell, but she never used the F-word. At least not when Lisa could hear her. Pops kept saying he was sorry, but her mom sounded like she was crying. Lisa jumped onto her bed, and put on her headphones, trying to drown it all out.
Instead of having a healthy dinner, that night Pops ordered pizza, and Lisa ate hers alone in front of the TV, watching Muppet reruns. After her mom went to bed, Lisa went to the spare room where Pops slept on the fold-out couch.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."
"Not your fault, baby girl. It's just… losing her first child was hard on your old mom. It's hell to lose a child, and worse when you are always wondering… At least if Leo had died, she'd have been able to mourn him, and move on with her life. It was the not knowing, you see. That's all. Just promise me you'll be a good girl, and let it drop for now, OK? Just give your mom some time to simmer down."
"I promise."
"That's my good girl. Now go on and get yourself in bed. It's way past your bedtime."
He kissed her forehead, and impulsively, Lisa threw her arms around him, and squeezed as tight as she could.
"G'Night, Pops."
Lisa kept her promise, and never breathed a word about Leo to her mom, and after a while, things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be, anyway, with Pops' cough getting worse, and her mother having to pick up extra shifts. Lisa became a latch-key kid, taking public transit to and from school since the yellow school bus didn't pick up in her neighbourhood. But that was OK. She took the bus all the time with Pops, and knew the route by heart.
She didn't forget her brother, though. From that day on, whenever someone was mean to her at school, she'd tell the other kids they had better be nice to her, or else her big brother would come and beat them up. At first everybody just laughed at her, but after a while they started to wonder if her rich older brother was real. She'd sit in a corner of the lunchroom, telling them about all the adventures Leo was having, and how he was going to pick her up from school someday in a Rolls Royce and take her to live in a fancy house.
Steven Loring the jerkface told her she was just making everything up, and she didn't have a brother at all. They got into a big fight, and Lisa gave him a busted lip and he had to go to the school nurse. He cried like a little baby. After that, no-one picked fights with her anymore.
When she was thirteen, the school guidance counsellor called Pops and her mom in for a meeting. Lisa had to sit outside the office, doing her homework. She was worried she was in trouble—that someone had caught her looking at Katie's answers on the math test they'd had the week before. She wasn't great at math, and Katie was super-smart, and she'd actually got a B+ on the test, but she'd felt so guilty that she'd bought Katie ice-cream sandwiches from the cafeteria vending machines with her pocket money, to feel better about it.
But her mom and Pops hadn't been mad. They'd just been sad and worried. And then after that, she had to talk to a psychologist once a week. She told him all about her famous brother who was kidnapped as a baby, and he would write down notes he kept in a file on his desk.
The worst part was when she was sixteen, and her dad actually showed up for her birthday.
He didn't bring her a present, or anything. It was like he forgot why he was there at all. He and her mom had a long quiet talk in the kitchen, and when Lisa came out wearing her new jeans skirt and her favourite John Mayer tee-shirt that Pops had got her, her dad was handing Mom a folded cheque.
They were supposed to be going to the Italian restaurant down the street for a birthday dinner. Instead, Dad took her to the track, where he spent the money Pops had given her for her birthday on beer.
Lisa was actually pretty pissed that it was her birthday—her sweet sixteen even—and her dad was totally ignoring her, forcing her to tag along behind him between the betting windows and the bleachers.
Finally, as he sat with his eyes glued to the track, the racing form and a stubby pencil in his lap, Lisa dared to ask him what she'd wanted to for so long.
"Dad, do you ever think about Leo?"
"Leo who?" Lewis didn't take his eyes off the horses.
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Leo who disappeared. My brother Leo."
"Don't be stupid, kid. Your brother's probably dead." And then he'd laughed. Like, how could he laugh about his own son like that?
"You take that back," Lisa had said, really softly, her eyes suddenly prickling with stupid tears.
"Don't talk back to me," her father had growled, and slapped her. He hadn't even been looking at her all day, and the one time he did look her in the eye it was to make sure his open hand connected with her cheek.
Lewis had never hit her, before, and Lisa gave a yelp of surprise. People around them glanced their way, and then looked away, like nothing had happened.
"I'm not stupid, and Leo's not dead," Lisa said, her cheeks flaming red. "You're stupid."
Lewis Snart looked at her like he'd never seen her before. In that moment, the feeling was entirely mutual. Lisa hadn't exactly grown up with loads of happy childhood memories of her father, but the man in front of her now was a complete stranger. He dropped his mostly empty plastic cup, lukewarm beer slashing over his shoes, and grabbed her upper arm so tight she knew she'd have bruises tomorrow.
He dragged her out of the stands, and she'd whimpered as he yanked her all the way down the hall to where the bathrooms were. Nobody was around, and he slammed her up against the concrete wall so hard she bit her lip.
"I said don't talk back to me, you little bitch. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it, you understand me?"
His fingers dug into her arms, pinching so hard she started to cry. Her head hurt from where she'd slammed it against the wall, and her lip had started to swell.
It was Steven Loring all over again, except Lewis was a lot bigger and a lot meaner. But Lisa was just so angry she couldn't think straight. Her knee came up, just like in gym class when they'd studied basic self-defence, and her dad let her go as he doubled over in pain, swearwords and sick, wrong things tumbling from his mouth as he reached for her again.
That was when the racetrack security guy came over, and Lisa took three steps back, to put the guard between her and her father.
"Everything alright here?"
"Fuck off—this is between me and my daughter," her dad said, and Lisa shivered from her head to her feet.
"He's not my father," she said flatly. "He's just some asshole who dragged me down here, like a perv."
"You lying little—" The rage on Lewis' face transformed him into a monster she didn't even recognise.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step back," the guard said, pulling a baton from his belt before leaning over to murmur into the radio attached to the should of his uniform. Two more security guards showed up, one of them female, and she walked Lisa back to the office while Lewis screamed curses at her retreating back.
One of the guards took her home, and when her mom saw her fat lip and bruised arms, they went straight to the Central City precinct, and filed for a restraining order. A nice cop named Officer West took her statement, and gave her an ice-pack for her cheek and lip.
"Lewis Snart," the office said, suddenly getting a faraway look on his face. "Not—"
"Yes," her mom had said, her lips pressed together in a tight line. "That Lewis Snart."
At the hearing, Lewis stared at Lisa from across the room, his eyes flat, like a lizard or a snake.
"It's a good thing your brother's gone. He didn't have to see what a disappointment you grew up to be," he sneered at her as he passed the bench where she and her mom sat. Carole gasped, and Pops took her hand, but Lisa's throat was tight, and her chest hurt. Like someone had reached inside her and was squeezing her heart in a vice.
The judge signed the restraining order that day, and Lisa never saw her father again.
Lisa never saw it coming.
One second she was in the ladies room, dragging a brush through her hair, and wondering if maybe she shouldn't have at least put on some mascara before her shift this morning. The next second a woman came up behind her, there was a blinding flash of blue light, and she woke up slumped against the wall in an eight-by-eight transparent cage with three other people.
One of them was a cop (even before she saw the badge on his belt, she knew from the way he stood. She just recognised the stance). He was the only one on his feet, pacing the length of the cell with brisk, angry strides.
Next to Lisa lay a woman her mom's age, classy, with blonde hair, wearing a silk blouse, slacks and jacket accessorised with tasteful but expensive-looking jewellery. On the other side of the cell was a pretty brunette curled on her side, long-sleeved red sweater and black pants showing smudges of dirt and dust. Lisa immediately touched her fingers to the girl's neck to check for a pulse.
"They're alive—just still sleeping off the effects of whatever it was we got hit with."
He was right; both women appeared fine; strong, steady pulse and breathing evenly. No doubt he'd checked as well when he first woke up. But Lisa was rarely someone to take anyone else's word for something—especially not when her own life might be on the line.
"Where the hell are we?" Lisa asked, her voice creaking a little, and she coughed to clear her throat. The air wherever they were was dry, static electricity making her hair even worse than usual. She pulled out her ponytail holder and retied it by reflex, but it didn't do much to help.
"Your guess is as good as mine," the cop said, offering his hand, and she let him pull her to her feet.
"Last thing I remember was another chick in the ladies room. I didn't even get a good look at her, and then she whammied me."
"Long black leather trench coat?" Lance asked, eyes narrowing as Lisa nodded. "She showed up at the precinct this morning—guns blazing. I think she's kidnapped my daughter, Sara. She was only with me researching for some paper for her criminology class. She's just a kid. If anything's happened to her—I'll… I don't know what I'll do."
"I'm sure wherever she is, she's fine," Lisa said, but the reassurance sounded hollow even to her ears.
He took a beat, sizing her up. She knew what he saw: late twenties, no make-up, jeans, black tee-shirt, blazer that had probably been fine when it was new but was definitely no longer, low-heeled boots. Some guys would just assume she was just butch. Not Lance.
"Sargent?"
"Detective," he corrected her assumption. "Lance, SCPD."
"Bates," she replied, immediately reaching behind her for her weapon. The holster was empty. "She took my gun."
"Mine, too—even the ankle holster."
"How long have you been here?" Lisa asked, turning her wrist so she could see the face of her watch. Cheap digital thing was broken—the green-grey face blank.
"Couple hours, maybe? You three were already here when I woke up."
Footsteps echoed on the metal floors and a young black man in desert BDUs, the name 'Jackson' written in block letters on the front rounded the corner and came into the room. Close behind him was a tall, severe looking woman, some kind of fancy pistol pointed at his back.
"Where's my daughter?" Lance beat on the walls with his fists, his voice hoarse. "What have you done with my daughter!"
Lady In Black ignored him, and gestured toward the cell with a jerk of her head. For a second it looked like the soldier was calculating the odds. Three against one, if they could get to the door in time. If if if...
"Don't even think about it," the woman said as she nudged him forward with the barrel of the gun. Without stepping closer, she hit two buttons on some kind of panel on the outside of the door.
Without warning she kicked him squarely in the back, and he stumbled inside, landing hard on his hands and knees.
The door was shut before he'd even landed, ad Lisa gave him a hand up, while Lance was still slamming his fists into the glass wall.
"Hey! I'm talking to you! Where is she?"
"Don't worry," the brunette said with a single backward glance as she holstered her pistol. "This will all be over soon."
"Are you okay?" Lisa asked as she helped him get to his feet. "Are you hurt?"
"Only my damn pride," BDUs said, "James Jackson, Bravo Company, Third Battalion, 75th Army Rangers."
Lisa whistled "She took out an Army Ranger?"
"Without even breaking a sweat. My CO's gonna kill me. Assuming I survive this, anyway."
Lance slid down the wall to a sitting position. "I don't care what she does to me. I just need to know my baby girl's alright. That's all I need."
"Oh my," a soft voice came from across the cell, ad Lisa turned to see another one of her cellies was awake.
"Are you OK, ma'am?" Jackson asked, his own plight completely forgotten as helped the woman into a sitting position.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just still a bit woozy."
"Ms—"
"Clemens. But please, call me Clarissa."
"Clarissa, do you remember what happened to you?" Lisa asked gently.
"I was at the university, conducting office hours, and a strange young woman showed up. I was sure she wasn't in any of my classes—I'd have remembered such a flamboyantly dressed young lady."
"Ow, my head," the brunette on the floor rolled onto her side, and Lisa crouched down to help her into a sitting position. "Where am I? Who are you people?"
"We probably should have waited to do the introductions," Lisa muttered, rocking back on her heels and balancing her forearms on her knees so she could maintain eye-contact. "I'm Lisa, and this is Detective Lance, Clarissa, and James."
"I'm Anna. Anna Loring."
"Anna," Lisa said gently, "What's last thing you remember? Where you were, what you were doing, before waking up here?"
"I was on my way to meet my fiancé. He was working late, so I called a cab. We were supposed to have dinner. When I came out of my building, there was this woman walking toward me in this long black coat. I just… I thought maybe it was cosplay. And then I woke up here."
"Where does your fiancé work?"
"Palmer Tech." Anna's face instantly became more animated. It made Lisa drop her initial guestimate of her age down by a few years. "Well, I mean, sort of? Right now Palmer Tech's Starling headquarters is actually just Ray's lab downtown. He wants to move the entire company from the valley to Starling. It's just—my mom lives in Starling, and he thinks a tech start-up would really help the economy, after what happened last spring. And when his IPO skyrocketed because of his smart watch—"
"What the hell is a smart watch?" Lance looked completely mystified.
"Your fiancé is Ray Palmer, as in genius billionaire Dr Raymond Palmer?"
Anna blushed. "He wasn't always a billionaire. When we met, he was still getting his doctorate. Um, the second one. Oh my God, do you think that's why she grabbed me? Because of Ray's work?"
It was worth considering. Palmer Tech was a pretty big deal. Especially after they acquired Queen Industries and most of Malcolm Merlyn's business as well. If it weren't for anti-Trust laws, Lisa was betting Ted Kord would have been watching his back right about now.
One tiny hitch in that plan, though: Anna seemed completely unaware that her fiancé was dead.
"What exactly could your fiancé been working on that's worth kidnapping four people?"
"A new kind of tech interface, light-years beyond today's wearable computers. He recently turned down a lucrative DOD contract because they wanted to weaponise the tech. The board was furious. Do you think we're here because of that? Some kind of, I don't know, corporate espionage thing?"
"That may explain why you're here—but not the rest of us. I'm nobody. And not from Star C-Starling. I'm from Central City. Detective Lance, you got any connection to Palmer?"
"To tell you the truth, I've never even heard of the guy. Only big-shot millionaire I know is the father of my oldest daughter's boyfriend. And believe me, there are days when I really wish I didn't know Robert Queen."
Lisa kept her face blank, but another piece of the puzzle slotted into place. Robert Queen's death had been big news—as had his son's surprise reappearance on the scene a few years back, after being lost at sea.
Lance ran his fingers through his dark hair, which was already standing up in spikes. "Jackson? I don't suppose this DOD thing rings any bells?"
"That is way, way beyond my pay grade. But I can tell you this: we're definitely being held hostage," Jackson said, and Lance's eyes snapped to him.
"How do you know?"
"The woman who grabbed us—"
"Trinity from the Matrix?" Anna said, without a single trace of irony. Lisa immediately filed that away under "geek girl".
"Who?" Jackson looked completely confused.
Anna blinked. "You know, from the movie?"
"Sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about. But she did some kind of Proof of Life video with me, for someone called Rick Hunter, right before she tossed me in here. Said since she couldn't find him, she could find those he loved."
Lance's scowl deepened. "I don't even know anybody named Hunter."
Lisa shrugged. "Me neither." She turned to Clarissa, who seemed even more confused than Loring.
"I do remember hearing something about Dr Palmer, and recently too. But I have to admit, I've been so busy this semester. So many papers to grade, and my grad student assistants have been severely lacking. I'm afraid it's just… gone out of my head, at the moment."
Lance was basically interrogating Jackson now. "Did she say anything else? Anything about my daughter?"
"No—she didn't say anything about any other hostages. I'm sorry. But she did say something… weird." He shook his head. "Something crazy."
"Crazier than this?" Lisa asked, waving her hand around the cell. So far everyone in their little cell seemed to be from either Central City or Star City, so there had to be a connection there, somewhere.
"Good point. She said unless Hunter surrendered their 'younger selves', she was gonna kill us, and anybody 'they' ever cared about. Friends, family, whatever."
"Any idea who the 'they' she was talking about might be?"
"I got no idea. One second I was leaving the hospital—"
"Hospital?"
"Yeah. My wife just had our baby. Like, a few hours ago. I never even got to hold him. All I know is that I was supposed to ship out," he glanced down at his watch, "six hours ago. I'm AWOL."
"Where to?" Lance asked, and Jackson's shoulders tensed. Not a huge change, but Lisa was watching for it.
"I'm afraid that's classified."
"I'm pretty sure your CO isn't gonna bust you for telling us," Lisa assured him.
"Somalia."
Another piece—Lisa was starting to get an idea of the overall picture, and it was just too out there to believe.
"Task Force Ranger?" she asked, trying to make it sound like just an idle question, but Jackson looked at her now like he too was wishing he had his sidearm.
"How—how can you know that?"
Lisa shrugged. "Lucky guess."
Lance crossed his arms, and looked at her with what she could only assume was his best 'stare down a perp' face. "What about you, Bates?"
"I was in the bathroom," Lisa said, rolling her eyes. "At Iron Heights."
"The prison?" Lance asked, and she nodded.
"It's a long story. But here's the thing—getting into Iron Heights? Not that big a deal. Cops, lawyers, family, conjugals—it's a regular revolving door. But getting out with an unconscious person just, I don't know—slung over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes? Without setting off a million alarms? She either had tech, or help."
"Like a partner?"
"Or a crew. Jackson, when she brought you in, you were still conscious, right? Was there any sign at all that she's not in this alone?"
"No, I only ever saw the one woman. I mean, assuming the same chick grabbed all of us—"
"How many crazy chicks in black leather can there be?" Lance asked.
Lisa opened her mouth, and then closed it again. If he was a Star City cop and unaware of the multiple crazy chicks in black leather in his own city, then she wasn't exactly going to enlighten him. Especially when she was starting to get an idea of what might be going on. Maybe. It seemed too nuts to even consider, but then again, ever since the STAR Labs particle accelerator explosion, her definition of "impossible" had become a hell of a lot fuzzier.
"Ok. So that's something. Five against one are pretty good odds, wouldn't you say?"
"We had a lot more than that at the precinct and it didn't—" Lance began, but there was suddenly a flash of light and a 'pop' of displaced air, and Jackson was gone.
"Holy shit!" Anna repeated, unable to believe what she'd just seen. "He just disappeared."
Lisa reflexively reached for her gun, which wasn't there. Lance did the same.
"Oh good heavens, you don't think..." Clarissa put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.
"I don't know what to think," Lance said, trading a look with Lisa.
But she knew what he wasn't saying. Jackson could very well be dead. And any one of the could be next.
Silence descended on the small glass-walled prison.
The next hour was tense. Lance's face grew paler and more haggard, and he'd started pacing again. Lisa's heart went out to him
Clarissa and Anna sat next to one another, talking quietly. Both were shaken up by Jackson's disappearance, but to their credit, they were keeping it together. Anna seemed like a nice kid, but definitely out of her depth. Clarissa on the other hand was remarkably calm about being kidnapped, not to mention the part where everything that had happened since she woke up seemed like it was straight out of an episode of Star Trek.
Lisa had acted casual as she'd asked Clarissa what subjects she taught, and even got her to open up about a journal article she'd just had published in the most recent issue of some stuffy academic journal. All innocence, Lisa had feigned interest in the subject (she wasn't sure who really got excited about advances in gene therapy other than other biochemists) and jotted down the issue number and date in her notebook.
Jackson hadn't reappeared, but no-one else had disappeared, so that was something. She'd carefully asked Lance questions, her voice low so the other women wouldn't hear and start to panic. But from what she could tell, Lance had no idea that it wasn't 2007. He was going out of his mind, worried about his missing kid. Lisa couldn't really blame him. If she'd disappeared at that age, her mom and Pops would have gone nuts.
Lisa heard a clanging, and she and Lance rose, positioning themselves in front of Anna and Clarissa as they heard multiple footsteps growing closer,
A tall man with red hair and beard in a long brown coat came barrelling around the corner, followed by a blonde in what looked like grey motorcycle leathers except for the coat, and a kid in his late teens or early twenties.
Lisa breathed a sigh of relief when Jackson appeared behind the boy. Alive, then. Good.
"Sorry—sorry, had a bit of trouble figuring out where the Pilgrim had landed her ship. Gideon tracked it, but it was still cloaked. We resorted to, well… throwing things. Which sounded better in my head." His accent was British, and not super-fancy BBC British as far as Lisa could tell. He still seemed to be talking gibberish to her, but whatever—all that mattered in that moment was getting the hell out of the glass box they were in.
Lance was staring at the blonde in shock. "Sara?"
"Hi, Daddy." The woman smiled, her blue eyes dancing and the second the Brit had got the doors to the cell open, she embraced Lance.
"Come on—let's get you out of here," the woman—Sara—tucked her arm in the crook of her father's, resting her head on his shoulder and Lisa felt a pang that she quickly buried. It was the same feeling when she watched Joe West with Iris—longing for something she'd never had. She shook it off as best she could, and clapped Jackson on the shoulder.
"Glad you made it. We were worried."
"Me too. You wouldn't believe—" he began, but Brown Coat stepped between them.
"Not to cut the reunions short, but it's entirely possible this ship will, erm… self-destruct, due to the death of its owner." He firmly but quickly ushered Clarissa and Anna ahead of him, and while they didn't exactly sprint out of the my God were they in a spaceship? But they certainly didn't stop to marvel much at their surroundings.
Lisa grabbed Lance's sleeve as they ran down the corridor in Hunter's wake.
"I thought you said your kid was in high school," Lisa said quietly.
Lance just continued looking like someone had punched him in the gut. "She is."
Last piece of the puzzle. Lisa didn't want to believe it, but there was no other explanation. Figures, she thought with a grimace. As if life in Central City wasn't weird enough, with all the metas. Now she's dealing with freaking time travel.
The ship did not, to Lisa's relief, actually explode. As they got far enough away that she could see the actual size of the thing, her jaw dropped. But that was nothing compared with the other ship that came into view as they rounded the corner of what appeared to be an abandoned industrial complex. It was huge.
"I'm sure you all have a great number of questions but it's rather vital right now that you come aboard, so we can get you all home. My name is Captain Rip Hunter, and this is the Waverider."
"Rip, not Rick," Lisa said, elbowing Jackson, who smiled sheepishly.
The open hatch seemed to lead to some kind of cargo hold. There were crates stacked against one wall, and several people hovering near the entrance. One was a grey-haired guy with glasses, who rushed to Clarissa's side, clearly relieved to see her. Lisa's guard came up as Clarissa stiffened in his embrace, and she shot panicked, confused looks at the rest of them. She was about to go to her when Anna squealed (that was the only way to describe the high-pitched noise that Lisa could only assume was from joy) and ran over to a tall, dark-haired guy who looked vaguely familiar.
"Ray!" Anna cried, and Lisa's eyebrows shot toward her hairline. OK, so maybe not so dead after all.
Anna threw her arms around him, while the pretty brunette with freckles and a bleached streak in her hair who stood next to him stepped back a little. Her expression was fond, but the whole thing seemed awkward. Brittle. She, too, was wearing some kind of leather outfit, and now that Lisa was closer, should could tell it wasn't exactly motorcycle leathers, though it clearly was modelled on some kind of protective gear. Well, except for the cleavage window, Lisa thought, the corner of her mouth twitching upward despite the situation. After all, if you've got 'em, why not flaunt 'em?
Lance seemed to have got over the shock of his baby girl suddenly being Lisa's age, and the two of them disappeared down a corridor ahead of the rest of them.
As the group moved further into the ship, conversations overlapping so it was hard to follow just one, Lisa hung back.
She was still angry that the woman Hunter had called "pilgrim" had taken all her gun. She felt naked without it, and she still had no idea where they actually were, and what was going on.
Hunter came over to her as the doors slid shut, barring her potential escape.
"So, this your time machine?" Lisa asked nonchalantly. "Or is it just a space ship from the future?"
Rip grimaced, and Lisa tried—and failed—to hide her smile.
"Truth be told, I was rather hoping to not have to go into detail."
"Sorry. But when you're stuck in a room with an Army Ranger from the 90s, a cop who has no idea Robert Queen's dead, a woman who has no idea her fiancé's dead, and a nice elderly college professor who is definitely from 2016 like me, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together and get five."
"Miss Snart—" he began, and Lisa flinched.
"Bates. Lisa Bates. I haven't been Lisa Snart in a very long time."
"My apologies. However, if you'll follow me," He extended an arm in her direction, but not actually touching her, "there's someone who would very much like to see you. And I imagine you'll be quite pleased to see him, as well," he said cryptically.
Lisa frowned, but followed him, still hoping that at the end of this little adventure, there might actually be answers.
Hunter led her to what appeared to be living quarters of some kind. It reminded her of a cruise ship—everything built in, bolted down, and clearly meant to be multipurpose. It made sense, since the entire room was pretty much half the size of her college dorm room. In lieu of a window, there was a flat screen beside the bed/sofa, projecting a view of the ocean.
"If you'll be patient for just one more moment, Mr Snart will be joining you."
Lisa tried to keep her shock from showing on her face, but her short nails dug into the palms of her hands. What the hell was her father doing on a goddam space ship?
Hunter stepped out, and another man came in. He was tall, with a slim build and close-cropped salt and pepper hair and five o'clock shadow, wearing dark layers of blue and black. He looked to be in his early 40s, and he was smiling in a way that seemed so familiar, despite the fact that she'd never seen him before in her life. A pair of tinted goggles hung around his neck, and he wore some kind of thigh holster that was currently empty.
"So, remember when I told you me and Mick were laying low, planning a big job?" he said, stepped right into her personal space, and forcing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "I might have skipped some of the… relevant particulars."
He reached out to touch her shoulder, and she flinched back. The warmth in his eyes was replaced by blankness that was just a little eerie.
"Lisa?" he asked, dropping his hand back down to his side.
Not dad after all, Lisa suddenly realised. She stared at him, looking for familiar features in an unknown face. There was something of Pops about him—maybe the nose. And she could see echoes of her father's jawline, beneath the stubble. He had probably been quite the heart-breaker, when he was her age, she thought absently. With those eyes—lashes that were completely and utterly wasted on a boy.
Blue eyes the exact same shade as hers. Mom's eyes.
"Oh my God. You're Leo."
She had to sit down, because the world had tilted beneath her feet. Literally, as the ship seemed to be lifting off vertically, like a harrier. The padded bench was more comfortable than it had appeared, and she dug her hands into the blanket, fingers twisting it slightly in her fists.
"Nobody's called me that since—not in a really long time." He very carefully sat down at the opposite end of the bed. Once the penny had dropped for her, she guessed it had for him as well. He looked completely shaken, and his face had become closed off, compared with when he had first walked in. "You—my Lisa, I mean, calls me 'Lenny'."
The surprised laugh she couldn't stop from passing her lips seemed to relax both of them. "Lenny like from Laverne & Shirley Lenny?"
He smiled, then. It wasn't the thousand megawatt grin he'd had before, but it was a nice smile. "Yeah. Exactly like that."
"Huh. Lenny," she repeated, trying the name out for size. It felt strange in her mouth, but his eyes softened when she said it.
"Welcome to the weirdness that is Time Travel," he said with a shrug.
"Didn't anybody ever tell you you're not supposed to step on any butterflies?"
"Funny thing is, this team is kinda all about stepping on butterflies. And if all had gone to plan," the way he said it, she got the feeling something had definitely not gone right and he was pissed about it, "it would have been like we'd never left. Beautiful baby me will be put back in his crib at St Mary's Hospital, right where he belonged, and it would be like we'd never left. Clearly, that's not the case," he said wryly, turning so he could tuck one leg beneath him, and she got the feeling he was studying her, comparing the Lisa he knew with the Lisa in front of him.
"So I was kidnapped to use as leverage against you. The brother I never actually had."
"That's the long and the short of it, yeah." His blue eyes locked onto hers. "You're taking this whole brother-from-another-timeline thing awfully well, all things considered."
Lisa shrugged one shoulder. "Believe it or not, I've seen weirder. Like a guy who can control the weather, and a chick who can teleport. There's even some weirdo in a red suit who can run father than the speed of sound."
"Ah, the Scarlet Speedster," Leo said, drawing the words out like one of those announcers on TV, and Lisa laughed.
"You know about him, too?"
"Oh, the Flash and I go way back."
Lisa shook her head, smiling. Of course he did. "My partner's obsessed with him."
That got Leo's attention, and he leaned forward, eyes dancing. "Partner?"
"Yeah—Joe West's kid, Iris. I drew the short straw and got assigned the rookie. But she's a good kid."
Leo looked like she'd just told him the sky was green and water ran uphill. "You're a cop?"
"Made detective last year. CCPD, Major Case Squad."
"You have no idea how ironic that is. No, really." He tipped his head back until it was resting against the wall, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "God, I wish Mick were here right now."
"Mick?"
"My partner, Mick Rory."
Now it was her turn to look shocked. "The arsonist?"
"You know him?"
"I arrested him." She smacked his leg hard enough that he actually flinched. "You work with that whack job? Voluntarily?"
"Believe it or not, yes. I'm the brains, he's the muscle. He's the hothead—pun intended—and I'm the one who stays calm, cool, and collected. We actually make a pretty good team. Not all the time, mind you. We hit a few… hiccups, recently. But he's my oldest friend."
"God, you really are from a parallel universe."
"Alternate timeline, but yeah. I am. I should have guessed it when I walked in, actually. My sister wouldn't be caught dead without lipstick, mascara, and five inch heels."
"The last time I wore five inch heels was when I got loaned out to Vice. Never again. Seriously. You ever try to run down a skel in heels?"
"Can't say as I have," he drawled, and it was weird, but God it felt so normal, sitting there, talking to him. Like the empty chair next to her her whole life was clearly meant to have him sprawled in it. Or lounging, maybe. He seemed like a lounger. All feline grace and sly smiles, and like a cat she wasn't sure if he'd appreciate being petted, or would try to take a chunk out of her with teeth and claws.
"I know, it's kinda crazy. Dad was such a shitty cop, even before you were kidnapped. Apparently he was drummed out of the force for being on the take. I actually didn't know that until I went to the academy."
At the mention of their father, Leo froze.
"Dad's still around?"
"He and Mom split up when I was really little. I haven't seen him since high school."
Some of the tension drained out of him, but the muscle in his jaw still twitched. "But he never… hurt you?"
She knew, then, that it didn't seem to matter which universe they were in: Lewis Snart was always a worthless bastard son of a bitch.
"Once," she said, remembering the look in his dark eyes as he'd loomed over her that evening at the track. "Then never again."
Leo closed his eyes, as if he was in pain, and took a shaky breath. "Then maybe you're better off without me," he said, voice low and quiet.
She grabbed his hand. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that," she said, the fierceness in her voice surprising even her.
The look he gave her, then—it was haunted. Like he was seeing ghosts. Maybe he was? She felt like she was, finally, finally sitting next to the big brother she'd always wished she'd grown up with.
"Lise, you don't know what your life would have been like, with me in it—"
"I know what my life was like without you," she said, her throat suddenly tight. "I know that my entire life, I've felt like a part of me was missing. From the second I found out you existed, I always wondered where you were. What you were doing. Some kids had imaginary friends—I had an imaginary big brother."
She smiled at him, and squeezed his hand in hers. "Sometimes the only thing that got me through was imaging you out there, having these amazing adventures. And knowing that if you knew about me, if I ever needed my big brother, you'd come riding to my rescue like some prince in a fairy tale."
He shook his head, expression rueful. "I'm nobody's white knight."
"You were always mine," she said without hesitation. "And I bet, if you asked your Lisa—the one you were expecting to see when you walked through that door—you were always hers."
"That's debatable," he said with a shrug that was more like a flinch. Just as Lance had taken her measure back in the cell, she took a minute to just look at him. Really see him.
His body language seemed open, until she realised that he had one leg still on the floor, like he was poised to take off at any second. He wore long-sleeves and layers; the only skin that wasn't covered were his hands and face. And even then, she could see the faint line of a shiny scar peeking out near his collarbone, almost but not quite hidden by the dark thermal shirt.
She may not have had scars on her skin, but that didn't mean she didn't have scars.
"You know, once people on the force found out I'd been born Lisa Snart and not Lisa Bates, I had a pretty shitty time of it. I guess a lot of cops assume the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I had to work three times as hard, to get half the credit. I spent my entire life living down Lewis Snart's lousy rep. And there's still a couple of higher-us who don't trust me to handle big cases on my own. But I'm tough." She lifted her chin a fraction. "I'll outlast every one of the petty bastards."
"You are tough, aren't you." He smiled again, and reached out to very carefully wrap his fingers loosely around hers. "My sister's tough, too. She had to be, to survive our childhood. I'm glad to know that at least in some universe, you didn't have to."
Lisa looked down at their entwined fingers. "Sounds like we both had it rough, no matter which timeline we're from. What about you—got a family?"
He shook his head. "Just you, and Mick."
"No girlfriend? Or, you know, boyfriend?" She raised a brow.
He laughed. "Not at the moment, though let's just say I've got a few irons in the fire. What about you? Made me an uncle yet?"
"God no. I can't seem to get my own shit together, right now. Can't really see trying to bring a kid into the mix." She wrinkled her nose.
"Good to know you're still a trainwreck, in any universe."
She nudged his knee with hers. "Jerk."
There was another long pause as he stared down at the scuffed toes of his boots. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, that haunted look was back.
"I know this is a weird thing to ask, but, in your timeline—is Mom…?"
"Retired. She and Aunt Gina live in Lake Mary, Florida." Lisa smiled. "Land of endless antique shops with names that end in 'shop' with two p's and an e."
On impulse she pulled her wallet out of her back pocket, and thumbed the wrinkled photo out of the pocket.
"High School graduation," she said, handing it to him. "There's mom, with the awful Hilary Clinton haircut. And Pops—my grandfather—he died not long after. Lung cancer."
He studied the photo, thumb tracing the bottom edge in slow, sweeping passes. "You got more time with him than I did. I'm glad."
"And Mom?" Lisa asked quietly, gently, half-fearing the answer.
"You got more time with her too," was all he said as he handed the photo back to her. She hesitated a moment, before tucking it back into her back pocket.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense. You got any pictures of Mirror Universe me?"
He pulled his own billfold out of the inside pocket of his long jacket. He thumbed through it, and she caught a brief glimpse of several different IDs—none of them bearing names she recognised. Finally he pulled a photo out of the very back.
"Also high school graduation," he said as he handed it over.
The picture was slightly dog-eared, with while lines where it had been folded at least once. Lisa stared at it, feeling not exactly ill at ease, but definitely off-kilter.
The cheap polyester gown and cap were a different colour, and she barely recognised herself under all the make-up, but it was definitely her. Just not her her. Leo stood on one side of her, his hair slightly longer but not by much, and much darker. On the other side was another man, as broad in the shoulders as a linebacker, with spiky dark brown hair. Both of them were grinning, and Leo had his arm around her shoulders.
It was downright eerie. Incontrovertible proof that another her existed out there somewhere—having lived an entirely different life. But her smile was the same. The pride in her mother's eyes in her photo was mirrored in Leo's, and she was struck again by the family resemblance. It was so weird, to see familiar features in an unfamiliar face, but the sensation that she'd always known him and had just momentarily forgot (as if you could forget your own family) was even stronger now. Almost a third presence in the room.
Lisa tried to laugh it off, suppressing a shudder. "Wow. Clearly I was a fan of hot rollers. It's weird to think of myself as such a… girlie-girl."
"Were and still are." The sly, amused light was back in his eyes. "I don't think I've seen you without a lick of make-up on since you were fifteen."
"Now you sound like Iris." She handed it back, a strange sense of relief uncoiling in her gut as he tucked it back into his wallet. "It's not that I never wear it. I just don't wear it unless I absolutely have to."
"Believe me—it's weirder, thinking of you as a fine, upstanding member of the Central City police force."
"I don't want to know what you and Rory and other me get up to, in your universe, do I,"
"Not if you want to sleep at night," he said with a wink. "Speaking of, I'm supposed to give you this."
He removed a small glass phial from a different pocket, a small pill inside. It looked like one of those little gel Vitamin D pills they sold at CVS. Somehow she doubted it was one.
"Instant amnesia," he explained "Short-term memory only. Strictly voluntary. Dear Captain Hunter has a thing about messing with the future."
He reached out to hand it to her, but she shook her head. "No."
"Lise—"
"Keep it." She scooted backwards on the bed until her back hit the wall, and crossed her arms. "I've waited my whole life to finally get my big brother back, and want to remember every second of this. I want to remember you. Even if this me goes back to being your me. Until and unless that happens, I need this. I need you."
Her voice broke, eyes stinging, and she blinked rapidly. She hated crying in front of people—even family. It was difficult enough, being one of the few female detectives in her precinct. But if anyone ever saw her cry, what little cred she had would vanish. When guys got angry and frustrated to the point of snapping, they tended to hit things. For Lisa, it was tears she couldn't control.
And the way he was looking at her now, like she was precious and special made it hard for her to breathe. Without thinking about it, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. The angle was precarious and more than a little awkward, but he hugged her back tightly.
"I need you too, kid," he said into her hair. "Always have, always will."
She could feel his breathe hitch, and she knew this time her eyes were burning with happy tears. For once.
After a long moment, she finally let go.
"So, what now?"
"Rip's gonna take you all back to when and where the Pilgrim grabbed you. And it'll all be like it never happened. And then we finish the mission, and he does the same to us. But if this thing goes sideways, and those butterfly wings stay flattened, I need you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"Promise me you'll never let anyone hurt you. Not anyone."
She nodded solemnly. "I promise."
"And maybe… maybe tell Mom…" his voice broke. "Tell Mom I'm OK. And that I love her."
She hugged him again, trying to memorise the feel of his arms around her, so she wouldn't forget what it felt like to have a big brother. So she could close her eyes and call up this memory, when things got rough.
"Love you, Leo," she said, her voice thick with tears.
"Love you too, Sis. Any universe—every universe. I will always, always do anything in my power to keep you safe. "
It took a while for the COs to find him and bring him to the visitation room. She hadn't been on the list, and visiting hours where over. But being a cop does have some pull with the bulls, and she hadn't been there long enough for the grey concrete walls and bare cement floors to get to her yet, when the heavy dark green door opened.
He shuffled in, trailed by two COs, hands cuffed in front of him. He sat down in one of the black moulded plastic chairs slowly, wincing. She guessed the prison bunks probably were hell on an old man's back. Her heart bled for him, it really did.
"Why're you here?" he asked, eyes narrowed. Even with two inch glass between them, they still made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. "You never came before. Why now?"
"You know, it's funny. If you'd asked me that an hour ago, you would have got a totally different answer."
Lisa held up her phone, so he could see the photo she'd managed to get away with; her brother's arm around her, both of them grinning like idiots.
"I just figured you'd want to know," she said with a sunny smile. "Leo says 'hi'."
She hung up the phone, got up, and walked away from Lewis Snart for the last time.