A time skip, in which Leonard Snart officially takes his place as a member of the Legion of Doom.

Takes place during Legends of Tomorrow S1E15 Fellowship of the Spear

All characters seen or mentioned copyright DC, CW, etc.


Vanishing Point

Damien stared at the chart, his amusement warring with impatience as he waited for Eobard's tantrum to run its course.

"Agh!" Crash!

And there went all of that sensitive equipment that Eobard had claimed was so very critical to their mission.

Damien chuckled. "Temper, temper." He turned around and grinned at the furious speedster.

"Don't test me, Damien!" Eobard snarled.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Damien asked. "You sent me and Malcolm off to find the Kalabros Manuscript while the Legends managed to abscond with the Spear of Destiny. I should have that zombie speedster you're so afraid of eat your brain."

"No," Eobard murmured. "No, this... is actually a positive development."

"Or maybe he already has," Damien added.

Eobard shook his head. "With the entire Spear in the Legends' possession, we no longer have to keep going after it piecemeal."

"Yeah..." Damien said, "I'm a glass half-full kind of guy—"

"The Legendary idiots won't be able to use it!" Eobard insisted. "They'll either try to hide it or destroy it, and when they do, we'll be there, waiting."

"No."

Eobard stared at other man. "Excuse me?"

"Not just us," Damien explained. "I'm not sure if you're keeping score, Eobard, but we're losing. So it's time to change the game. It's time to bring Leonard in on our quest."

Eobard scoffed. "That layabout will never be ready to join us. Too much has changed for him already."

"Changes that we made, as I recall," Damien pointed out.

"Do you think I don't know that? Those changes were supposed to motivate him to help us, but they've done the exact opposite!" Eobard zipped back and forth around the room between sentences, slowing down to pace at a human speed when he spoke. "How was I supposed to know that changing his history would make him that sick? The effect of time travel on someone with an eidetic memory is barely even understood in my era."

Damien shook his head. "Be that as it may, we did recruit him. You recruited him. You chose him, just like you chose us. Because you need him for something. I only ask that you keep that in mind before you lose the rest of your patience. And that you remember our deal."

"You have no idea what I need him for," Eobard muttered. "But, yes, I remember. Our deal. As in the three of us. You, me, Malcolm. What I don't remember is Leonard being a part of that. Now why do you suppose that is?" He smacked his forehead. "Of course, how could I have forgotten? Because while you and Malcolm were playing your little game in the bank vault, Leonard was in here, being completely useless."

"Not completely useless," Damien replied. "See, while I still haven't found an artifact that will give me full use of my magic, I was able to fashion a spell to help him recover by binding his life force to another's. Specifically to a member of the Legends."

Eobard shrugged. "And that's helpful, how, exactly?"

Damien smirked. "Because I told him that whoever's strength he borrows needs to know that he's borrowing it."

"You mean he's been talking to them," Eobard growled. "I am going to ask you one more time, Damien, and partnership or not you had better have a good answer for me. How is it supposed to be helpful to us if he is talking to the Legends?"

"To one of the Legends," Damien corrected him. "More to the point, one of the Legends has been talking to him. The beauty of it is, Mick Rory thinks he's been hallucinating the whole thing. And since we've never allowed Rip access to certain parts of the ruins, not one of their team has any idea that we have their former, uh... future... ex..." he waved vaguely "late team-mate."

A slow grin spread across Eobard's face. "Then he can tell us their next move."

"Precisely."

—CHANGES: TRACING TIME—

Leonard was slumped against a wall, fiddling with the hologram of a small dagger, when the footsteps approached behind him. "I apologize that you feel like you have to take things slow around me," he said. "That can't be easy... for a speedster." He flung the dagger at the wall and shot it with the cold gun.

The ice hit the wall in the shape of the dagger before both vanished into thin air. The dagger reappeared beside him, and he picked it up again to balance its point on a fingertip.

"Bored?" Damien asked.

"Always." Leonard turned his head so he faced the two men. "If you're looking for intel, I'm afraid you're both too late." He released the dagger and the hologram vanished.

"Why's that?" Eobard asked.

"It's a funny thing," Leonard said, "being cooped up somewhere that exists outside of time. While you three have been racing around for months on end—and I never did congratulate you on how you screwed up Rip's mind, by the way—for me, it's only been a couple of weeks since you picked me up from the train. The last time I heard from Mick was fifty-two minutes ago; hell if I know how long it's been for him."

"What did he tell you?" Eobard said. "Anything about their plans for the Spear?"

Leonard shook his head. "At some point between 'I love you, man,' and 'you're an idiot,' the Professor discovered some kind of receiver the Time Bastards had planted in Mick's head. Not fully functional, but it seems that's how we've been able to communicate. Once they removed that..." He shrugged. "I can still track the Waverider, but that's it. The ship might as well be empty for all the Wellspring will show me now. I barely had any warning to get out of sight when they showed their faces here."

"Dammit, Leonard," Damien muttered. "This was supposed to be your moment to prove yourself."

"Sorry to disappoint," Leonard murmured.

"I'm not disappointed," Eobard said.

Leonard twisted around to look at the speedster. Damien lifted one eyebrow.

"I'm really not," Eobard insisted. "Listen, you just said you could track the Waverider, right? How?"

"I don't know," Leonard admitted. "The Professor thought I 'bonded' somehow with the temporal explosion in my future. You suggested the blast goes through my entire timeline." He shrugged. "Maybe you're both right. I don't pretend to understand it, I just try to use it. Not sure how I can use it now, though."

"I told you before," Eobard said, "that we can take turns taking charge on specific objectives as our particular skills come into play."

Damien rolled his eyes. "Is that what we've been doing?" he muttered.

"Shush," Eobard muttered back.

Leonard sighed. "Your point?"

"This, uh, sickness of yours," Eobard said. "Damien thinks you've recovered enough to contribute more directly to our mission. And, well, it was your skills as a thief that I recruited you for, after all, not these new discoveries with the Wellspring."

"Are you going somewhere with this," Leonard asked, "or is this your way of telling me to take a nap?"

Eobard snickered. "Sorry, sometimes I forget you get bored almost as quickly as I do. What I'm trying to ask, Leonard, is this: Do you feel up to going outside, about seeing Mick face-to-face?"

—CHANGES: TRACING TIME—

"My god, that is a useful skill," Eobard's voice came over the receiver. "Not just the date, you predicted within an hour of their arrival time."

"I don't know, an hour sounds a bit sloppy to me," Leonard said back. He poked his head out of the tent, but the only person he recognized was Damien heading his way. "I'm used to planning my heists down to the second. This 'hurry-and-wait' has never been my style; I'm sure you understand that better than anyone."

"True," Eobard admitted. "It's such a pity you won't have a chance to experiment with this one."

"What does that mean?" Leonard tapped the receiver in his ear. "Eobard? What did you mean by that? Eobard!"

"Give it a rest," Damien snapped. He walked into the tent and settled himself in the corner. "Eobard, could you please try not to sound so ominous for at least five minutes? You know it makes him jumpy. And as for you..." He pointed at Leonard. "I realize paranoia is how you've stayed alive all these years, but you need to get your head in the game. He means that the Legends are nearby. In fact, I believe I've just seen your partner duck into a medical tent a few minutes ago."

"Which one?"

"On your two 'o clock," Eobard replied. "Less than fifty meters away from our tent. There's a truck out front delivering food for the injured. Go find Mick, see what you can get out of him, then meet back with Damien. And let's try to keep radio silence; switch off your communicator for a while. We don't want the Waverider hacking our signal, especially not with you in the field."

"Understood," Leonard murmured. He poked his head out of the tent again and looked off to the right...

And didn't see a single medical tent within range, nor a tent of any kind with a food truck waiting outside.

"Um..." He ducked back into the tent and glanced at Damien.

Damien looked up from his drink long enough to roll his eyes and point off to the left.

"Got it," Leonard said. He looked outside again, and sure enough, off to the left was a food truck parked directly in front of a medical tent.

Leonard scoffed. Trust someone born in the digital age—or whatever came next—to have no idea how to use a clock to give directions.

He squinted to help his eyes adjust before investigating the darkness within the medical tent, then immediately squeezed between the nearest cot and the side of the tent. He watched, fighting a smile, as a nurse handed a basket of bread to Mick and the arsonist immediately tried to take a bite out of one of the loaves.

"Hey!" the nurse snapped. "Those are for them."

Good ol' Mick, always thinking with your stomach. Lisa loved to tease you about that. He had to swallow the lump that tried to form in his throat. Damien's right, I need to get my head in the game. I can't help Lisa if I can't focus.

And so he watched as Mick tossed the loaves at the beds, neither man even sparing a glance to see whether the bread landed anywhere near where he'd aimed.

And finally, after a few more half-hearted throws, Mick glanced up to see Leonard watching him.

Mick just stopped and stared at him, quite literally as if he'd just seen a ghost.

Leonard walked out of the tent and waited by the truck. Footsteps, a tread both familiar and so very strange, followed close behind.

"My, my, my," Leonard drawled. "How the mighty have fallen."

"You said that," Mick said. "The last time you appeared." He grunted. "You pick a hell of a time to show up; I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Yeah. In the middle of being a good little doggie to those insufferable wannabes."

"Stay on mission, now," Mick grumbled. He covered his eyes with one hand. "Gotta find this hobbit guy."

Hobbit guy? In this era? He must be talking about the author. But what did Tolkien have to do with the Spear of Destiny?

"J," Mick continued. "R. R..."

Yup. "Tolkien," Leonard finished. "Why? Hoping for an autograph?"

"I don't even know who the guy is," Mick replied. "All I know is I gotta find this hobbit guy, who knows the guy who's buried with Jesus' blood. Then we can destroy the Spear of Destiny."

Leonard sighed. "Mick, Mick, Mick. When have we ever destroyed anything we've ever stolen? Let alone the most valuable score in the universe." He shook his head. "What have they done to you?"

"Mr. Rory?" The voice came, distant, from the vicinity of Mick's ear. "Steal us an ambulance, will you?"

Mick covered his earpiece with one hand. "On it."

"What happened to the man who never took orders from anyone?" Leonard asked. "I respected the hell out of that guy. Now you're just their... trained pet. Sit, Mick! Fetch, Mick! Good boy, Mick! Woof!"

Mick glared at him. "I am no one's pet," he said, his voice quiet enough to send shivers down Leonard's spine.

Leonard took a step back from the arsonist's impending fury. If Mick lost his temper, things could very easily go south for all of them. And if Mick really didn't realize it was the real Leonard in front of him... well, he might not lose his temper as easily, but he probably wouldn't pull his punches, either.

"Sure you are," Leonard muttered. "They may act all friendly to you, but they'll never trust you. Never." He paced around his former partner. "When the chips are down, they'll look at you the same way they always have... as a thug. But you and me? We're partners. At least, we were. And could be again."

Mick turned to watch him pace.

Leonard stopped pacing right in front of him. "Take the Spear of Destiny, Mick," he whispered. "Use it for yourself. Use it for us."

"There is no us," Mick replied. "You're dead."

"I don't have to be," Leonard told him. "With the Spear, it'd be so easy to bring me back." To bring back Lisa he almost added. But if this version of Mick didn't know she was dead... or worse, didn't know she had ever existed...

"You're in my head," Mick muttered. "You're a... you're an... illumination."

"A hallucination?" Leonard said.

"That's it."

Leonard rolled his eyes and swiftly punched Mick in the face before he could stop himself.

Mick sprang back just as swiftly, but all he did was stare at Leonard.

"Now, did that feel like a hallucination?" Leonard spat. He spun on his heel and stalked back to the Legion's tent, leaving Mick to continue to stare in confusion.

"And how was the reunion?" Damien asked.

Leonard glanced up at the man's smirk and then looked away. "I'm gonna let him, uh, spin out for a bit," he replied. "Then go in for the kill, so to speak."

"Meaning you lost your temper," Damien suggested.

"I don't lose my temper," Leonard replied. "Unlike some people on this team."

Damien glanced down at Leonard's bruised knuckles and snickered. "Right. Just keep telling yourself that."

Leonard sighed. "I already knew he thought I was a hallucination."

"But confirming that he thinks that, hearing him say it right to your face... that can't be easy for anyone. I imagine it brought home your, uh, personal experience on the subject."

"That was fourteen years ago!" Leonard snapped.

"Yes," Damien murmured. "Fourteen years since your sister was lost to time itself. Is that truly so long ago that you can expect to just... be okay with it?"

"I guess not."

"I mean that is why you're working with us," Damien continued. "To be reunited with Lisa, to keep her safe. So on that note, did Mick say anything useful?"

"They want to destroy the Spear," Leonard replied. "Mick seems to think they can use the blood of Christ to do that. But I don't think he knows how."

A flash of lightning, and Eobard joined them in the tent. "And how do the Legends plan to find this blood? Did he at least tell you that much before you lost your temper and blew you cover?"

Leonard closed his eyes and reviewed the details Mick had given him. "They'll find their next clue in Sir Gawain's grave in the Church of Amiens."

"Mick said that?" Eobard asked. "I didn't think he'd even know that many big words."

"Not exactly," Leonard admitted. "He only said they're looking for Tolkien, so they can find, and I quote: 'the guy who's buried with Jesus' blood' so they can destroy the Spear. But if you look through your history books, you'll find that Tolkien wrote a paper titled The Burden of the Purest Heart, which was, among other things, about the author's theory that Sir Gawain had returned from the Crusades with a vial of the blood of Christ. A vial that was rumored to have been buried with him."

Damien and Eobard stared at him with their mouths open.

"What? I read, and I have an eidetic memory. Why is it so surprising that I would know something like that?"

Damien cleared his throat. "I guess I just never expected you to be a fan of Tolkien, is all. I mean, you're not really the type to follow a fad, and it doesn't seem like it'd be all that useful to a thief."

"Following fads can be very useful for a thief," Leonard said. "Shocking as it sounds, even my father agreed... once I pointed out the random trivia some people choose for passwords and security questions." Which argument had made it a lot easier to convince Lewis to let him read Lisa bedtime stories instead of...

Leonard drew in one shaky breath after another until he no longer felt the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Fair enough," Eobard said. "So..." He clapped his hands together. "Church of Amiens, then. I will leave the two of you to it." With another flash of lightning, he was gone.

"Is it just me," Leonard drawled, "or could this mission be a lot smoother if our esteemed leader would quit racing off every time something interesting happens?"

Damien nodded. "It's not just you. But Malcolm and I have already been over this. While you were recuperating we discovered that Eobard has a very good reason to dislike staying in one place for long."

"Because he's a speedster?"

Damien wobbled one hand in the universal sign for 'so-so.' "Er... yes and no. Let's just say it has to do with why he needs the Spear and leave it at that for now. It doesn't matter, anyway; we need to focus on the task at hand. I will continue to follow your lead on this one, so... what is our next step?"

"Hmm... I can get Mick on our side. But for that to happen, he'll need to know that I'm actually here; they all will. What do you say we wait for them at the church?"

Damien cocked his head. "Sounds like a plan."


Thanks to an unplanned staycation (was supposed to go on a motorcycle ride with my folks but I'm trying to get over a cold and I decided to stay home and get caught up on some of the backlog on my computer), I have finally, finally caught up... on season 2.
There's still Season 3 and the other shows to catch up on as well, not to mention re-watching relevant episodes to make sure I have dialogue etc right as I write this thing, but this means I can finally get back to work on this particular plot bunny without having to jump ahead of myself.