Chapter 15:

Wishful Thinking

The dank scent of mold wafted past Sage's nose, stirring her from her unconscious state. Her head and face throbbed in time with her heart beat. The rough floor scratched against her cheek as she shifted, looking around. Darkness was nestled in every nook and cranny of the room save for the old, flickering light that rocked to and fro above her head, emitting an eerie creak…creak…creak… with each swing.

She sucked in a breath only to cough and choke on the dirt and dust particles that shot down her throat. Her lungs screamed for clean air and tears sprang to her eyes as she tried to get her breath back. Her coughing fit steadily subsided and she looked around the room for any sort of familiar marking or escape but there were no windows, no ventilation, and no chance. There was always the door but what if she was safer inside than she was in the hall or whatever was on the other side of the door.

She stood, pressing her palm to her aching head, and tried to think back to what happened, how she got there but she drew a big blank. She remembered being in S.T.A.R. Labs and then…nothing. Nothing until she woke up…wherever she was. Was she still even in Central City? Her heart gave an extra hard lurch at the intruding thought. She swallowed thickly and slowly got to her feet. There was no sense in waiting around; Joe and Iris were probably worried about her.

At that thought her hands started frantically patting her pockets and then her heart dropped when she felt nothing. Her phone, her wallet, her keys were all gone. "Fuck!" she uttered, her hands still patting her pockets to make sure that they were, in fact, empty and that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. She blew out a breath and gave her head a firm nod. Standing around wasn't going to make her situation better, getting out was the best choice. The only choice.

Sage had only taken one step towards the door when it swung open and hit the opposite wall with a bang. She flinched at the sound; it seemed to echo around in her skull as it echoed around the room. Lips pressing together, she tried to calm her shallow breathing by taking deep, slow breaths. A heavy, dirt-covered boot slipped out of the darkness, the boom of the footfall made her heart race. It was followed by another, a sliver of a patchy green pants hem brushed the top of the boots with every step. Sage's eyes followed the visitor and the further they walked into the room, the wider her eyes became and it wasn't until they stood beneath the swinging light did her vocal chords start working again.

"D-Dad?" she gasped, peering at him. She blinked once, twice, three times; she rubbed at her eyes, feeling the sting in the corners and seeing colors and stars burst beneath her palms. But no matter how many times she rubbed at her eyes he didn't go away. "Daddy."

Austen Moreaux stood tall beneath the swinging light, his eyes set in a hard stare that made Sage shrink beneath it. The scars stretching across the left side of his face looked angrier beneath the low fluorescence in the room; deeper due to the shifting and contrasting light. His lips were tight, pressed together in a thin line and his muscles bulged and strained beneath the constricting fabric of his fatigues as he crossed his arms.

"Daddy, I can't believe it. You're here!" Sage crossed the distance between them in a flash and flung her arms around his waist, burying her face into his stomach. She heard him grunt at the contact but it only made her hold onto him tighter. Her dad was there, her dad would save her. Everything would be fine now. She dropped her arms and backed away, smiling up at him. "You're in Central City," she stated. "I didn't think…you didn't call, after what happened. I thought you didn't hear but…you're here."

Her cheeks began to hurt from how hard she was smiling. Hell, she couldn't remember the last time she smiled this big around her father. After all that time away from him, the four long, tense, quiet years, she wasn't sure he even cared about her anymore, let alone coming all the way from Canada for her. She wondered how he had found her, how he had known exactly where she was when she didn't even know but that didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that he was here with her and that her heart had warmed so much it could burn a hole through her chest.

"Okay, well…let's get out of here," Sage said, motioning to the door.

But Austen didn't move. He trained his eyes on her; the one cloudy eye always made her squirm beneath his gaze and now wasn't an exception. The stony expression on his face, if possible, got harder. His lips finally parted, one side of his mouth drooping a little due to the weakened muscle, and he said, "You're pathetic."

His words slapped her so hard she had to take a step back. Her breath caught in her throat and her ears buzzed. "W-what?"

"Relying on everyone else to save you. Can't even get yourself out of trouble." He grunted. "What a waste of a child. What a waste of my name."

"Dad, I—"

"Have you suddenly lost all respect while being away? It's sir to you," he bellowed, making her jump. "I knew I shouldn't have let you go live with Joe of all people. You've lost all your damn sense, not that you had much in the first place. Look at you!" He made a show of looking her up and down. She rubbed the front of her boots together and hung her head; her hair cascaded in front of her face, shielding herself from him. Austen grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at his sneer. "Fake hair, pierced nose, barely-there clothes, what a disgrace! You look like a tramp, is that the attention you want to bring to yourself?"

"S-sir—"

"Shut up!" Her entire body tensed at the force of his shout, seizing up, before it loosened only for tremors to take over as she stared at her feet. "Did I tell you to speak to me?" Lips clamped together, she shook her head frantically. Maybe if she didn't speak, didn't make a sound he'd calm down and things would be fine. "Can't even work with common sense. I'm surprised you managed to stay in school for so long, with your lack of sense. What a waste." Spittle landed on her face with the force of his hissing but she didn't dare brush it away. His thumbs began to press against her jaw. Her heart began to beat hard against her ribs. "Can't do anything right, you're so fucking useless. Better to be a money drain on Joe than me. Let someone else deal with you, see how worthless you are. Don't know how anyone can go without drinking to stand you." With a turn of his wrist, he moved her head and then lowered his face so his mouth was by her ear to hiss, "You will never amount to anything."

Sage squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered being five, running around the house with a towel tied around her shoulders like a cape. She had run into the kitchen for lunch and, in her haste, knocked over her glass of grape juice. Austen screamed at her for making a mess and made her stand in a corner with her nose to the wall for hours on end. She remembered being eight and playing with balloons left over from a party. One had popped in her hands and the next thing she knew she was on the floor with Austen's hands on her throat, him screaming in his purple-faced, blind rage. She remembered being fourteen and rushing home to gush about the Homecoming dance within a few weeks only to spend the night of said dance pacing around her yard, picking up any and every stick she found because she got a C plus on a science test. She remembered being seventeen, coming home from a date with an older friend and was made to stand on a street corner in town with the thickest turtleneck and baggiest jeans she could find while holding a sign that read 'I date and dress up because I have no respect for myself'.

All of those she glossed over; put a smile on her face and looked past it to keep the peace in the Moreaux household and her life. It was much easier than fighting back because she could never win. He was bigger, taller, faster, louder, and stronger than she.

Blood rushed in her ears, her heart thumped hard against her chest. Her fingers curled and her teeth clenched. She wrenched herself out of his grasp, grabbing his wrist and twisted it backwards. She could feel his muscles straining beneath her hand but still she pulled. "Do not…touch me…ever…again!" With a final tug, Sage pulled his hand back hard enough that a loud crack shot through the room.

Austen grabbed at his broken wrist, howling in pain but that wasn't enough for her. With a solid thrust of her palm to his chest, he was thrown backwards, knocked off his feet. Austen barely touched the ground when Sage crossed the distance between them, climbing atop of him. Energy surged through her body, she couldn't control it. She slammed her fists into his face over and over again even when she drew blood she didn't stop. She felt his nose break beneath her hand, felt his teeth pop and loosen in his gums but still she didn't stop.

His face began to squish under her hands, blood forming a sticky layer over his battered skin. Little bubbles by his mouth popped as he gurgled and when he tried to push her off she simply grabbed his other good arm and gave that a sharp twist, breaking the bones with little effort. He needed to hurt, he needed to feel the same pain she did, the same pain that poked at her day in and day out like an exposed nerve.

Somewhere in her blind fury her gloves had come off. Her knuckles ripped open and she couldn't tell whose blood was whose anymore. Her chest heaved and her breaths were shallow and her father had stopped moving but that wasn't enough for her. Not nearly enough. Gritting her teeth, she wrapped her hands around his throat. Beneath the pulp of his face she could see his eyes widen beneath the swollen skin and his cracked, damaged mouth parted to allow him to utter a strangled scream.

She could feel waves of cold ebb and flow on the palms of her hands and she watched as he tried to fight back but as the seconds ticked by his motions slowed. She expected to see his body stiffen much faster than Austen was but then, she wasn't freezing him. His body wasn't covered in a layer of ice, there were no traces of frost clumps in his hair nor did he have a blue tint to his skin. Her shoulders dropped and she panted heavy breaths as she slowly uncurled her fingers from his now still form. Sweat beaded at her hairline and she swallowed thickly, backing away as she started at him. She hesitantly reached out a hand and touched the blood on his face, only to recoil and press the back of her hand to her mouth when she found that it was frozen. She didn't freeze him, she froze his blood.

A heavy weight dropped onto her chest and she found it hard to breathe as she scrambled backwards until she was tucked into a corner. She stared at the lifeless body that was once her father and blinked hard. She couldn't have just…. She couldn't have really just…. This has to be a dream. Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP! She blinked and rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, gagging when she realized she smeared blood across her eyes. Her saliva thickened and soured, collecting in her mouth as she stared over at her father. But the longer she looked at him the more distorted her vision became, as if a glitch was shaking a computer screen. And with every twitch of her vision the body changed, it flickered back and forth between the tall, strong, camouflage covered body and a smaller, shorter, all-black covered one.

"What the fu…" Sage muttered. She closed her eyes and gave her head a hard shake. The black-clothed body still lay on the ground. If that wasn't her father, then who…?

She let out a scream at the fiery hot pain that pounded in her head. Each throb made her stomach clench and another round of thick saliva to pool in her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes and it felt like a hot poker was pressed against her temple. What started as a small tremble soon took over her entire body, her limbs jerked in every direction and her head bounced up and down akin to a bobble-head doll. Her eyes rolled up in her head and a trickles of blood seeped out of her nostrils as the color slowly faded from her face.

The door opened and Leonard sauntered into the room, Mick railing behind him. He paused by the man lying on the floor and peered down at him, humming as he nudged the still man with his foot. He turned on his heel and walked over to where Sage was still in the corner. He lowered until he was balancing on his toes and took her chin in his hand, turning her head this way and that.

"Hmm. Thought the blood was supposed to come out of their eyes," he said with a click of his tongue. He stood and turned only to roll his eyes. "Mick, it's not nice to poke things," he noted, squinting at the sight of Mick jabbing his large finger into the side of the man's face.

"She turned his face to mush," Mick noted.

"It's the serum."

"She froze his blood." Mick stood up. "Who was this guy?"

"He took a cut of money I was owed thinking I wouldn't notice," Leonard replied. "He's not important."

"Okay, so how's she important?" Mick jabbed his finger in Sage's direction. "I may be a criminal but I draw the line at sexual misconduct."

Leonard stopped and stared at him partially because of what he suggested and partially because he was able to utter the word 'misconduct' without help. He closed his eyes and let out an elongated sigh through his nose. He cut off Mick's rambling about leaving DNA traces behind with a swift lift of his hand. "The Streak has two weaknesses, Mick," Leonard said, "saving people and the cold. It slows him down. What better way to slow him down completely than to have him save someone he seems to know that can also be his Achilles Heel?"

"Okay." Mick nodded his head slowly. "I get that—"

"Do you?" Leonard interrupted, an eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.

"—but why did we inject her with that stuff?"

"Because, Mick, that stuff enhances people. It makes them stronger, faster, tougher. They have enhanced healing, senses, reflexes, stamina, and endurance."

"Right. So why didn't we use it on us?"

"Because this Mirakuru had…a special ingredient added to it. Something that will be hard to find a cure for," Leonard replied, turning back to the shaking girl on the floor. "Something that we wouldn't be able to handle. It would kill us right away but this…this will be a slow death. Not just for her but for the Streak, too. Two birds with one stone and then Central City will be ours again."

"But Boss, didn't you say that you were getting bored before?"

"Trust me, Mick, this will be all the entertainment I need," Leonard replied. "Watch her," he ordered a second later as he headed back towards the door.

"What if she tries to fight back?"

Leonard had his hand on the doorknob when his partner asked his idiotic question. His fingers curled around the knob and he had to resist the strong urge not to put a bullet in his head. When he wasn't trying to wrangle Mick and keep him from burning off his own face he had to stop him from asking such asinine questions. It was almost like dealing with a perpetual eight-year-old. "Then shoot her," he replied. "I can trust you to do that at least, can't I?"

Leonard didn't wait for Mick to answer before he left the room. He didn't have any time to waste on listening to Mick's ranting and raving about how he always had Snart's back. He navigated through the halls until he got to the one secluded room he could call his own. There weren't many places in their string of safe houses that he could claim as his own. This one certainly had its benefits but he knew they couldn't stay there for too long. They never stayed anywhere longer than they had to.

Leonard made sure the door was closed behind him and immediately went for the lone desk in the room. A broken, rusted, beat up cabinet sat in the corner and a single lamp sat atop of the desk, illuminating the motes that floated in the air. The chair exploded in a cloud of dust when Leonard crashed down into it and he lazily waved it away as he pulled open one of the stubborn drawers. He brushed past the faded yellow, crumpled and wrinkled papers and pulled out a black bag.

He unzipped the top and it popped open right away due to the amount of bills shoved in it. The fake leather was beginning to strain against the stack of money. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out another fistful of money that was rightfully owed to him. It was beginning to become a bother that those he hired to work with him tried to pull one over on him. There was a reason he was the one who called the shots, one would think they'd trust him by now.

The money made a humming sound as he flipped through it, counting it in a rapid manner. His thumb skimmed over the top of the bills as the 10s and 20s flashed before his eyes. The larger the bills the more chance he had of them being traced. He counted three times to be sure the money was there, and it was, all $1500. He laid that down on the desktop and recounted the money in bag only to slam his fist upon the wooden surface. He ran his hand down over his mouth, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip.

He scratched behind his ear and drummed his thumb against the desk as he wracked his brain. He knew he was short but he was much shorter than he wanted to be at this point. How was it possible? He counted everything; he knew how much money he had on him down to the very last cent. He recouped everything he had lost before; made sure he got the money he was owed, split everything with Mick that they both worked on. There was no way he made a mistake. He didn't make mistakes. Mistakes only left him vulnerable and, after living with Lewis Snart, that was not an option he was willing to take.

He leaned back in his chair and drew an arm across his eyes. The last mistake he had made on a mission resulted in him being smacked around by his father as he was pinned to the floor, unable to escape.

He was woken from his sleep at some ungodly hour of the night, his father ushering him out of bed and when he tried to take his stuffed bear, Mr. Fluffington, with him he was told to leave it behind and to hurry up for Pete's sake. They had to get in and out before his mother woke up.

It was cold that night and, having hit a recent growth spurt, the hem of Leonard's—Leo at the time— pajamas sat a few inches above his ankles. But the cold didn't affect him anymore; he'd been locked out of the house and made to sleep on the porch more often than he'd like to admit. He obediently followed behind his father who kept shushing him and telling him to lay low as they squeezed their way through the shoddy wooden fence that separated their yard from their neighbors' yard.

"Daddy, I don't think they're home," Leo commented, looking up at the large, looming darkened house. "There are no lights on."

"I know, son," Lewis replied, grabbing Leo by the shoulder. "They want us to…check and make sure everything's okay. That's all we're going to do. Make sure everything's okay."

"But why don't we just call the police?" Leo asked.

"Because they'll take too long," Lewis said, his voice tight. "Now get over here. Try and squeeze through this window." He pointed towards the window above their heads.

Leo looked up at it. The window was open, he could see the curtains on the inside swaying to and fro due to the light breeze. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked back and forth between the window and his father. "Daddy, I just wanna sleep."

"And you'll get some sleep after you get your fucking ass through the window!" Lewis snarled, shoving Leo forward.

He stumbled a few steps and regained his balance soon after. Leo looked over his shoulder at his father once more only to see that look on his father's face. He heaved a sigh and crept closer to the window. He grabbed onto the windowsill and managed to lift himself up. He slid through the window on his stomach, grunting at the splinters snagging on the front of his shirt. He rolled forward, bracing his hands on the floor to somersault into the house.

It was weird being in his neighbor's house at night. He went over many afternoons to watch cartoons and eat candy when his dad was out and his mom was working at the diner. They had a deer head on the wall that was cool during the day but at night, as it stared down at him with beady, glass eyes, it gave him the willies.

"Will you hurry your fat-ass up and let me in?" Lewis hissed from the other side of the window. "We don't have much time."

Leo grumbled under his breath and walked for the front door. If they were just checking on the house for their neighbors, what were they rushing for? His feet padded over the hardwood covered floor, a few of them creaked beneath his weight. He twisted the deadbolt and the lock on the door handle, grasped it, and popped it open with a tug.

His heart dropped into his stomach as a high pitched whistle sounded off by his head. He whipped his head around, looked up, and bit his lower lip. When had that alarm system been installed? He didn't remember seeing it there the last time he came over. His blood ran cold and his heart thump, thump, thumped against his chest. Did that mean the police were coming? Was he going to be thrown in jail? Was he never going to see his mom ever again?

"Don't just stand there, you fucking retard!" Lewis yelled, bursting onto the front step. He reached in through the door, grabbed a fist full of Leo's shirt, and yanked him so hard Leo's feet didn't touch the ground until they were halfway across the yard, rushing back to their house as the lights began to turn on in their neighbor's house.

Leo stood with his nose pressed against the glass once the police officers showed up moments later. A crowd of other neighbors had formed in the street to watch and ask questions; Lewis was a part of it, mastering the proper look of sleep-induced confusion. It was such a good act Leo didn't realize he had done anything wrong until his father yanked him out of his bed by his ankle, held him to the floor, and started beating him on the behind with his belt so hard that he couldn't sit properly for the next couple of days. And he hadn't made a mistake ever since.

Leonard dropped his arm from his eyes and tapped his fingers against his chin. There were plenty of ways to make extra money, more pieces to steal, more "deals" to get paid for, there was a never ending supply of opportunities for him. But then, there was one easier way…

He pressed his lips together and then reached into the drawer again, this time pulling out a ring. It was a pretty little thing: silver with a ring of diamonds on the top and bottom. In the middle, bands of gold intertwined, nestling four repeating stones in them: sapphire, topaz, emerald, and ruby. He brushed his finger along the inscription on the inside—Our Family is Forever—and let out a humorless laugh at the notion. Forever doomed, perhaps. Though his mom was lucky, she managed to get out. He didn't foresee that in his future, but Lisa maybe…

He held the ring in his palm, shame filtered over him but it was fleeting. He had stolen it ages ago, surely he would be over it by now. Then again, it was his grandmother's and it didn't really belong to him. It was destined for Lisa but…she didn't know that. And if it was going to help her one day anyway, what did it matter if he sold it? He curled his fingers around the ring and set it aside. He wasn't that desperate yet and, if he could work things out, he could get Lisa the money and give her the ring like his grandmother wanted to years ago.

His eyes flickered up towards the door when Mick announced that she had stopped shaking and was conscious. He didn't reply, instead he stood and followed behind his partner, wiping every inch of emotion from his face. His cold gun thumped against his leg as he walked through the corridors, back into the room that housed his two victims.

"Rise and shine," Leonard said once he was close enough to the girl for her to hear him. She looked up at him from the floor. She used her elbows to push herself up into a sitting position, trying to tuck herself into the corner she had squeezed herself into. The bruises and swelling on her face had faded.

"What do you want from me?" Sage croaked. Her lips were cracked and her words stuttered as they came out of her quaking mouth. "If you want money or something…I don't have much. College student, what can you do?"

"I don't want your money," Leonard replied.

She lifted her chin, holding his gaze. "Then what do you want?"

Leonard's mouth pulled back in the corners. "I want you."

# # #

Central City used to be synonymous with their advances in science, technology, and architecture but was now becoming synonymous with the weird and strange. First were reports of The Streak, of which everyone ignored before. A blur running around saving people? It was on the same level as aliens. But as time went on even the existence of aliens began to seem plausible in light of what Central City went through. Especially with reports of a man that could turn to steel and a man who could siphon electricity popping up within a few weeks of each other. And now, when Eddie thought things could go back to normal, there were reports of people around the city becoming irrationally angry and violent out of nowhere.

If he knew going into becoming a deputy would involve having to deal with the frequent unusual cases, he would have had second thoughts about it. It was one thing for the city to put their trust into the police department but now to put their trust into The Flash (as he was now named)? Someone that could turn his abilities around on them in an instant? It was foolish and, frankly, dangerous. And he didn't understand how he was the only one who thought so.

Being with Iris, one of the Flash's main supporters, was challenging some days. It seemed that she was the only one who was allowed to have opinions on him and they had to be good ones. Any time he tried to voice his own opinions on the matter, realistic ones, he was shot down and he was put in the doghouse. He liked her, he really did, but being caught on the fierce end of her stubborn nature was hardly his idea of fun. And if there was any subject that could bring that out of her, it was the Flash.

Sometimes it felt like he was the third man in their relationship. At first he felt it was Barry that was getting between them, he was always around Iris and tended to pop up in their conversations. Not that it bothered him, they were best friends of course and everyone liked Barry, even Captain Singh as much as he tried to hide it. But they fell into a groove over time that worked and he could even call Barry a friend so he wasn't the obstacle anymore.

It was this…this Streak, no, the Flash. The masked being that was going around saving the city like it was its playground. And Iris…the stars in her eyes that appeared whenever she spoke about the Flash used to be the same stars she got around him. But those were dull and they weren't as bright as those associated with the Flash and that left him disgruntled. He used to be Iris's hero. If she didn't see him as a hero anymore, how long was it until she didn't see him as a part of her life anymore?

After the Flash had rescued her from Tony Woodward it's almost as if she was star struck, as if she had spotted Hugh Dancy drinking coffee at Jitters. The Flash wasn't doing much more than the CCPD was, he had the advantage of being faster, that's all. The CCPD was still around for a reason. He was still a detective for a reason. If they weren't needed then the Flash could handle everything and they could retire. But Eddie was used to being needed, needed to be needed even and this Flash was throwing a wrench into his job and livelihood.

Eddie finally rolled out of bed, forcing himself to see the day. He had the day off work and, like the few before; he didn't know what to do with himself. He could go to the gym but that only took up a small part of his day. If he could work all the time he would, having so much time to be idle drove him crazy.

He paced around his apartment, turned on the news to keep up to date, ate a couple bowls of cereal and went to get the mail for his elderly neighbor. By the time he was finished with all of that barely an hour had gone by. Huffing a breath he decided to change his clothes and go for a run. Maybe some fresh air would do him some good.

Once out of the apartment complex and on the street he took on an easy jogging pace, weaving his way between the stragglers on their way to work. The bright sun over the city seemed to glaze everything in a golden glow and the light, crisp breeze felt like heaven on his skin. It wasn't long before he was pushing himself to run faster to bring his target heart rate up. Wind whistled in his ears and tugged at his clothes as she dashed down the street, heading towards the park. He always ran around the park twice in the morning before heading back to the apartment. Today he wanted to see if he could beat his old time.

His shoes slapped against the sidewalk, his cheeks puffed with every breath. Sweat dripped down the side of his face, the faint traces of salt touching his tongue but still he pushed on. He ran by moms pushing strollers, older women power walking, people walking their dogs, and visitors sitting on the park benches reading the morning paper and drinking coffee. All the colors flew by in a fuzzy blur, smearing together as he neared the end of his run. He sucked in his breath and sprinted the last few feet, only coming to a stop when he felt as if his lungs were going to explode. He glanced at his watch to check his time, his chest heaving as he tried to get his breath back.

His lips split into a wide grin when he saw that he did, in fact, beat his old time. A swell of elation rose through him; there was certainly no way his younger, heavier self could ever achieve such a feat. But the joy in him was soon cut down by an intruding thought: The Flash can run faster than this.

He immediately rid his mind of the burning thought and scoffed. The Flash, what was so great about him? After all, nothing strange happened in Central City until he came along. His body jerked with the hard jolt of realization. He had to be behind everything, every strange occurrence in the city, his city. The Flash had to be the one bringing them there, to them, causing all this trouble. Yes, that had to be it. The Flash was behind everything! If he could only get everyone to see…

A newfound spring entered his step and it propelled him all the way back to his apartment. He took a quick shower and threw on some clothes before hopping into his car to drive back into the city. It wasn't long before he reached C. C. Jitters and he practically bounded out of the car like a puppy just to get inside, partially because he could finally tell Iris what he was thinking and partially just to see Iris in general. She always made his day better with little effort.

"Iris, hey," he greeted her with a wide smile once he got up to the counter.

"Eddie!" her smile mimicked his and it set his heart aflutter. "Did we have plans?" she asked a second later, her eyebrows furrowing as a worried expression settled on her face.

"No, I came to surprise you," he replied reaching out his hand. She motioned to Tracey that she would be just a minute and took his hand, walking around the counter. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips which made her smile return.

"I like these surprises," she replied, lightly wrapping her arms around his waist. "What have you been up to all morning?"

"Oh, the usual. Watched the news, got the paper, went for a run," he replied. He lowered his voice and added, "I missed waking up next to you. Do you think you can come over tonight?"

Iris bit her lip and backed away from her, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "I don't know. I think I should be home."

Eddie gently took her hands. "Iris, I'm sure Sage is fine now. She doesn't need you watching over her." Ever since Lennox found Sage wandering around Central City in daze after not showing up in their meeting place a couple weeks ago, Joe and Iris had been preoccupied trying to figure out what happened and making sure she was okay. It was better than being preoccupied with The Flash but he wasn't foolish enough to say that out loud.

"She hasn't come in for her coffee."

"Call the police," Eddie said in mock horror. Iris slapped him on the arm and he sighed. "Look, Iris—I shouldn't have made a joke, I'm sorry. But I would like to see my girlfriend every now and then and not in between work and classes. We can take a walk around the city, just you and me. We can even go to that Mexican restaurant you've always wanted to go to."

"Eddie, you hate Mexican."

"I know but I…" he paused and quickly switched the words he was about to use, "really like you."

Iris's cheeks darkened and she bashuffly looked down at her feet. Eddie smiled, thinking he had been successful when she looked back up and said, "I'm sorry, I would if I could but I'm meeting someone."

He blinked. "Meeting someone?" he repeated.

She nodded. "Just to talk about some things."

"Are…you cheating on me?" His heart gave a painful lurch at the dreaded word.

Iris laughed. "No, of course not! It's just…a piece I'm writing for a class. It's really important, worth quarter of my grade and I kind of don't want any distractions." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Rain check?"

Eddie sighed but nodded his head. "Sure, rain check," he replied. He turned his cheek when she stood up on tiptoes and smiled at the warmth where her lips touched his skin. "Can I read the article later?"

"Of course. But I have to get back to work, okay? I'll see you later."

Iris rushed off and went back behind the counter. Eddie watched her interacting with the customers for a moment before leaving. He casually walked back to his car and sat looking at the storefront for a moment.

He couldn't shake off the odd weight that had settled upon his shoulders. Why couldn't she just tell him who it was that she was meeting? It wasn't as if he'd get jealous about it, he trusted her completely. He twisted his mouth to the side and then brushed his hand across the stubble on his mouth and then turned the ignition. Oh well, it was nice that she had her own interests. He had his as well and, for now, they all revolved around The Flash and just what it was exactly that he wanted from Central City.

a/n: Well, what did you think of this chapter? We get some good insight into Sage, Snart, and Eddie when it comes to their families and internal self-esteem plus Snart's plan is revealed! And as of now we are officially finished with part one of this story! Thanks to everyone for being so patient with me between updates. None of you got Sage's codename right but a lot of you were close, I can say it does start with the letter S. I can also say that it will be revealed next chapter. What also comes with the next chapter? The Arrow crew!

As another treat for being so patient with me between updates, I'll tell you a few fun-facts about this story: when I first thought of the idea for this story, my character's codename was going to be Sage. I hadn't thought of what her first name was going to be but I had the idea of her metahuman abilities was to be able to decipher any language put in front of her be it spoken, coding, scientific, archaic, or body language. But then I felt it was a tad lame so I nixed that idea, haha. Then in came the idea of making her Iris's family and, seeing that Iris was a flower-based name and Sage was also a flower-based name, I moved that to become her first name. Also I had thought of her just being a normal human but, after really thinking about Snart and his cold gun, I thought (especially since we didn't know a thing about Killer Frost and her part in the show at the time) what would happen if someone on Barry's team was his weakness? And here we are!

Thanks to all that have fav'd, alerted, and reviewed so far, I appreciate the support so so much and I'm glad to see you're enjoying this story. Please read and review!

~C.M.