Oh god.
This was so tough to write. So many plot threads to tie up that I never should have introduced in the first place, and the big reveal to pull off. Especially the big reveal.
I hope this chapter, which has been a long, long time coming, lives up to everyone's expectations. If it doesn't, or if you have any burning questions, or if you want to rant to me about what I've done wrong or what I could have done better, then hit me up. The next chapter is in the works and should be out sometime before the new year, so stay tuned.
As always, reviews, comments, and questions are welcome, and keep reading!
Enjoy!
"My dad was a bit of dick."
"I'm sorry, what?"
Cisco was halfway through a mouthful of sopapilla when Laura spoke, but he'd stopped chewing to instead stare at her. They were sitting next to each other on a bench in Gladstone Park, just a thirty-minute walk from the Ramon family home. Between them was the box of pastries Mrs. Ramon had packed up for them, now missing a few pieces. The light from the streetlamp behind them shadowed his face, making it easier to ignore the dumbstruck expression on his face.
Easier, but not easy.
"I – I said my dad was a dick."
It took a few minutes for Cisco to finish chewing and swallow, given that he could not seem to look at anything else besides her. She waited patiently, taking some sopapilla out of the box, the sweet, sugary dough a welcome distraction from the awkward silence.
"Thanks for the heads up?"
"Well, you all talk about your families," Laura shrugged, pointedly not making eye contact, "and I've never said that much about mine. Doesn't seem fair, does it?"
"It's not about fair, Laura. If you don't want to talk about them, you don't have to."
"But,"
but I want to,
"I'd like to."
Slowly, her hands shaking, Laura took off her jacket, draping it over the bench with a great deal of care. She could do this. It wasn't the first time she had done this, but tonight, sitting alone with her best friend, it somehow seemed monumental. She just needed to remind herself that once it was over, it wouldn't hurt as much.
"Cisco, this is the story of how my father went to prison."
She is walking home alone.
She has been walking home from school on her own for years. It bothers her a lot now.
It hadn't bothered her before. Before they'd left.
She stops at the corner.
Blue and red lights flash on top of the car in the driveway. She has seen those cars only a few times, but she knows what they mean.
They lead him out of the house with his hands behind his back. They watch and wait, patiently, as he ducks into the car, and shut the door behind him.
The sight does not disturb her. She has seen it all before.
Where's my dad going?
She knows exactly where he's going.
I'm afraid your father's done a very bad thing.
She knows that. She has seen those things. She has lived those things.
How long is he going to be away?
She hopes it's for forever.
A very long time. I'm so sorry.
They don't need to be sorry.
A very long time is almost forever.
They expect more from her, but she is never what people expect her to be. They do not see the bruises her jacket hides, bruises in the shape of his hands. They will see them, later.
Later.
She hasn't thought about later.
Where am I going?
"That's the last time I ever went home."
Cisco was silent. He hadn't said a word the whole time, a slow exhale or a sudden hitch in breath the only signs that he was listening. The edge of her sleeve, which she had been fidgeting with, was starting to wrinkle and crease, so she switched her focus to the other sleeve.
"What," Cisco cleared his throat, "what happened, after your dad…?"
"I went into foster care. I aged out. I went to university."
"You never got – nobody ever adopted you?"
"That's the thing, Cisco." Laura briefly glanced his way, looking away as she rolled out the stiff muscles in her neck. "The older you get, the more of a challenge you are. The more of a challenge you are, the less that people want to put effort into you. I was twelve years old with a lot of anger issues, so I wasn't exactly a popular pick."
A handful, she'd heard the Gardiners' complain to each other late at night. A brat, a threat, a burden, an accident waiting to happen, she'd heard it all.
"That, and my dad was a dirty cop."
"Did that bother a lot of people?"
"Oh, you have no idea. There was…there was this one girl who found out about it from her mom, I think. One day, she told our whole grade that I'd threatened to cut her in the girls' bathroom. I was so embarrassed and angry, I punched her in the face and got suspended."
"Jesus Christ, Laura. That's, that's fucked up."
It was one of the few times that Laura had ever seen Cisco look so angry. She remembered hearing over the years stories of his own bullies, from preschool to college to S.T.A.R. Labs. For Caitlin and Barry and many others, there had also been many people like that in their lives, children and adults alike who had made their lives miserable. She'd never seen him angry about it before, though, not as angry as he was now.
Laura had known everything she'd ever gone through was fucked up for a long, long time.
She'd just never heard anyone say it out loud.
They weren't sitting on the bench any longer. In the time that she'd started talking, they had moved into the middle of the field, lying side-by-side in the grass. Staring up at the sky, Laura could only see a few stars There were only a couple of stars visible, what with the amount of light pollution Central City gave out on a nightly basis.
"I never thought these were things you'd tell me."
"Why?"
Because you're boring, Cisco did not say. Instead: "I guess you just seemed the most normal out of all of us."
"Cisco," Laura sighed dramatically, "no normal person decides to put on a mask and suit and run around the city at night instead of sleeping. Honestly, I don't even think I was normal before I started doing that."
A moment passed before Cisco snorted out a laugh, and then another, and then Laura was laughing as well. Soon enough, the two of them were rolling about on the grass, eyes watering with tears from the force of their laughter. It felt good, indescribably good, to let go and laugh, especially after the last couple of days. There was just something so normal about being able to joke about the mess their lives had become.
As they slowly quieted down and caught their breath, however, the stone in Laura's stomach remained as heavy as ever. She continued to lay there, even as Cisco sat up and brushed away stray blades of grass. It would be easy, she thought, as she watched him stand, to end it there and let the sleeping lion be. It would be easy to pretend that everything was alright, that there was nothing else she was hiding from him, and it would be easy to pretend she would tell him when the time was right. It would be easier, for her and for him.
But since when had she ever done things the easy way?
"Cisco – before you go."
"Yeah?"
"There's something else."
He was back at her side, without hesitation, and Laura could feel it in her bones just how horribly this was going to hurt.
"Did you know that you can legally change your name after you turn eighteen?"
"Laura, what-"
"You remember," she had to do it quickly, had to force the words out, or she wouldn't be able to do it at all, "that girl I told you about, from my school? She wasn't the last one to do something like that, Cisco. Everything my father ever did, it – it followed me wherever I went. I couldn't be my own person with his name – all anybody ever saw when they looked at me was him. I wasn't anybody else but a dirty cop's kid, and I hated it. I wanted to change that. And as soon as I could, I did."
"So, your name…"
"My name is Laura, but Sanders was my grandmother's name, on my mom's side. She married into the Reynolds family, so my mom was Elizabeth Reynolds. And my father…"
"Laura-"
"Lewis. His name is Lewis Snart."
"Sna – wait," Cisco's eyes were suddenly as wide as saucers, and he stared at her with an intensity she couldn't withstand, "your last name is Snart?"
Just one last piece of the puzzle.
"Leonard Snart is my brother."
She is five years old, and her momma is dying.
Her momma has been dying for a while now.
Her momma is not afraid.
Take care of my baby girl, please.
She hears them talking when they think she is asleep.
Take care of her for me, won't you?
She hears him promise.
I will.
Her brother does not break his promises.
She is eight years old, and the skin on her arm burns.
There are only three of them.
She knows there will be more.
Her brother cries for her.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.
Her sister rages for her.
He's going to pay. For all of it.
They sit with her through the night, and she is not alone.
She is eleven years old, and her world is empty.
The other side of the room is empty.
Lisa.
The duffle bag in the closet is gone.
Leonard.
She has no more tears left for them.
All that is left is anger.
All they deserve is her danger.
She will be angry for a very long time.
She is twelve years old.
She does not smile when the police tell her.
She wants to.
They tell her about the family waiting for her.
She had a family, once.
They are gone now.
She is alone, now.
She does not look back.
"I'm sorry."
She was on her feet, but there was nowhere for her to go. The world had suddenly closed in around her, boxing her in and stranding her in the last place she wanted to be.
"Laura-"
"I should have told you, I should have said something-"
"Laura," she wasn't prepared for the hand on her shoulder, nor was she ready for the embrace he turned her around into, "it's okay."
"It's not, it's not okay." Laura gasped as he pulled her close, her voice hitching and her body refusing to stop trembling, "it's not. You should be mad, why aren't, why aren't you mad?"
Cisco was quiet for a second, before he pulled back so that they could look each other in the face. Tears were gathering in her eyes, Laura realized, as her vision began to blur, and she felt a tinge of shame for it. Even with his features muddled, Laura could see that the expression on Cisco's face was not what she had expected it to be. There was no trace of anger, or disgust, fear, or pity, or any of the things she had come to expect – of the things she had seen before.
She didn't know what to make of it, to make of this friend of hers and the way he was tearing down the slowly leaking dam inside her.
She didn't know what was going on.
It was – it was too much.
"Laura, why would I be mad?"
It was too much.
In between one second and the next, the dam broke.
And, so did Laura.
"I don't get it."
"What?"
"If Snart – if Captain Cold's your brother, why did he and Rory kidnap you?"
"I haven't seen my siblings in almost fourteen years, Cisco."
"Wait, are you serious?"
"I was twelve when Leonard and Lisa left home. The night Caitlin and I got kidnapped was the first time I'd seen Leonard since then. After this long, I doubt even Lisa would recognize me."
"And they just…left you?"
"I don't know why they did it. They just did."
"I'm sorry."
"It's – it's okay, Cisco. It happened a long time ago."
"Still. They were – they're your family. They shouldn't have left you."
"…thanks, Cisco."
"Who else knows?"
"Joe was the first to find out, back when the CCPD hired me. Captain Singh might know, but I can't be sure and, at this point, I'm too afraid to ask."
"Anyone else?"
"Oliver told me that he knew the last time he was here, and I'm not sure I want to know how he found out. There's you – oh, and I'm almost certain that Hartley knows."
"Wait, wait. why would Hartley know about this?"
"You remember that secret of mine he mentioned to you before he ran off?"
"That…?"
"Yup."
"…that son of a bitch."
"I've been meaning to tell you something, too."
"What is it?"
"I've been working on something for a while now, for Barry. Well, with him."
"I'm listening."
"What do you know about time travel?"
"This is huge - Cisco if you're right about this-"
"Then there's a lot more going on than we thought, I know."
"I was going to say we could rip apart the fabric of time and space itself."
"That too."
"I like yours better."
"Me too."
"...I still can't believe that you never got my package."
"Cisco."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
For listening.
For accepting.
For understanding.
For staying.
"For being a good friend."
"Anytime."
"And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long."
- Sylvia Plath
