TOO LEGIT TO QUIT

"What are you seeing up there, Ray?"

The Atom swoops above the clouds, keeping himself concealed from the Roman army below. The visor of his suit focuses and gives a stellar picture of the encampment. The time displaced men all mingling around campfires, relaxed and readying themselves for sleep. The sun will be setting soon and at the snail's pace Octavian had his troops marching, there was no doubt they were settling for the night.

"Not much," He answers Sara. "Looks like they're not going anywhere tonight."

Ava fills his ears. "Perfect. Prepare for phase one."

Ray gives an affirmative. He hovers in the air, waiting for the official call from Sara before he dives down into the encampment, shrinking himself down to the size of an ant. Though generally an optimistic person, there was a snag of stress weighing on him with this particular mission.

According to Gideon, the army was a days ride away from the Nebraska-Kansas border, and sure to wreak havoc upon any they came across. However, just as pressing was the fact that the army had thousands of soldiers and supplies were quickly diminishing. With no water source in sight and no chance for rain, dehydration was already spreading among the men.

"We can't just let them die," Nate disputed when the Legends had gathered on the bridge that morning, revising the plan Ava had confidently made. "They're a significant part of history."

After an hour of arguing, particularly between Mick and Sara - for Sara still thought it'd be best if she infiltrated the encampment alone - the decision had come to one simple matter: Ray was the only one able to go in without being caught. So long as he stayed in his miniature form, no one would know that he was there and Killer Frost and Mick could use their abilities to essentially box the army in while Ava opened a portal to ancient Rome. Nate and Amaya and Zari would take the ground fight, keeping the army within the frozen and fiery walls. Any stragglers that broke through would be dealt with later; the main focus was getting the bulk of the army out of Nebraska.

"Alright Ray," Sara's voice returns. "Are you ready?"

His lips twitch into a smile. "Ready to willingly enter a squadron of thousands? Sure. Everyone back home already thinks I'm dead anyways."

"C'mon Haircut," Mick's gruff bark of a voice chides him. "Don't be a pussy. Frosty 'n I will be babysittin' yah the whole time."

Killer Frost scoffs over the commlinks. "Ugh, please. Okay, fine. Nerd, Caitlin says 'good luck'. Also, 'be careful' and - ugh, Caitlin, no!" Her link abruptly shuts off.

Mick is chuckling, and Amaya offers an encouraging, "Nate, Zari, and I will be near if you need any assistance."

"Ray," Sara says calmly. "The heart of the camp is where I need you. Think you can do it?"

"Okay!" Frost, exacerbated, is back. "Caitlin, not me, Caitlin, also says that she 'knows you can do this'. I don't. I'm giving you eighty-twenty odds of failing."

"Hey come on!" Ray yelps, all the while Mick is howling with laughter. "Whatever. I'm goin' in."

Flipping open a pad on his suit wrist, Ray presses a button and begins his descension from the sky. Once he breaks through the clouds, he engages another button and brings his arms and legs to a perfect divers formation. He releases the "shrink stuff" as his teammates call it, bringing his own body down in size to fit within the metal power suit. In mere seconds, he's no larger than an ant.

Just as expected, he enters the camp without being noticed. To the soldiers, he is no more than a fly, buzzing around their faces.

"Great job, Ray," Sara compliments. "Now, work your way to Octavian and start phase two."

"Hey," Nate interjects. "I had an idea. It'd be far more effective if you threw out some Roman god names - Jupiter, Apollo, et cetera. You're more likely to be taken seriously if Octavian thinks you're one of the gods he worships, and not some random ghost."

"For the record," Ray dodges a pair sparring with their spears, "I was never on board with the ghost idea."

"Ghost, god, whatever," He can practically hear Sara rolling her eyes. "Just get to Octavian and keep him occupied."

"Roger that." He speeds through the camp, trying not to accidentally get swatted away in the process.

"Well," Killer Frost sighs. "Not much to do now." She plops herself on the dry grass and dirt, stretching her legs out and tipping her head back against the hot sun. "Ugh. I so need a vacation."

This is your second mission, Caitlin scolds. And get up! You should be ready for Ray's signal.

"I am ready!" Frost snaps back. "Stop worrying. It's gonna take Nerdboy a while before he finds the right tent."

I wish you would stop calling him that. He's my friend.

Frost rolls her eyes. "Whatever. He's fine. A bit like a golden retriever, actually."

She feels a swish of warmth, indicating a happiness from Caitlin. Frost lies back on the ground. "Ugh. This sun is bull shit. It's too weak."

I thought you hated the heat?

"I do," Frost yawns. "That doesn't mean I don't want to at least experience a sunburn. What's the point of living if I can't even feel the sun?"

Caitlin sighs in her head.

"Look alive Frosty," Mick's voice comes over the comm link. "Haircut's 'bout to start."

With a groan, Frost pushes herself up to standing and rolls her neck. "You know," she says to Caitlin. "We really need to consider starting up yoga. These shoulders are killing me. I blame your terrible posture, Caity."

I have impeccable posture! Especially for wearing six inch heels every day!

"Alright guys," Ray speaks up. "I'm about to make my landing."

Sara says, "Everyone in position?"

Frost brings her hands up, letting them start to freeze over. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get this over with."

Sara gives Ray the go and he lands on Octavian's shoulder, doing his best to keep his presence hidden among the folds of the Emperor's red cape, bunched at the shoulder clasp.

Clearing his throat, he pitches his voice to a dramatic, boisterous bellow. "Octavian! Hear me!"

The man whirls, searching his tent. Empty but for his own sleeping arrangement, the emperor stiffens. "Who goes there? Show yourself."

"You dare command me?!" Ray continues. "A god of the heavens?"

"No!" Nate hisses. "Ancient Romans didn't have a concept of heaven!"

"Shut up, Nate," Sara snaps at him. "It's good enough. Ray, keep going."

Octavian lifts his chin, a deep frown settling on his face. "You dare mock me? I am the Emperor! Enough of this trickery."

"Jupiter heeds no man's word."

"Jupiter?" Octavian whispers. A shiver runs through him, and Ray uses the opportunity to engage a projected image before the confused man. A movie clip of the 1959 film Hercules Unchained shows Steve Reeves, barely clothed, with stacked muscles and a piercing stare.

"God of Greatness!" Octavian falls into a bow, pressing his forehead to the ground. Ray lurches with him, able to grab a fistful of cloth to keep steady. "Forgive me for my foolishness!"

"Keep it up, Ray," Sara says in his ear. "As soon as Amaya is in position, Mick and Killer Frost will start."

Carrying on, Ray adjusts his position on Octavian's shoulders, readying himself for the next phase of their plan. "Rise, my servant! I have need of you."

Octavian stands, bowing his head and raising his hands in prayer to his forehead. "Whatever you need, I shall do."

"You must end your raid through these lands! Return to your homes and praise peace amon-"

"No!" Nate hisses. "No peace! Just get them to leave!"

"Uhm," Ray coughs. "Return to your homes and-and await for my next instructions!"

"Ray!" Sara snaps.

"Okay, okay!" Flustered, The Atom does his best to recover. "Leave! And do not return to these lands! Or Jupiter shall smite you down!"

Octavian nods his head fervently. "Yes, of course. So it shall be done, oh gracious God. But," he audibly swallows. "How shall we return home? I have not an answer for how we arrived in this empty land."

"I will take you, as I have brought you." Ray describes the opening to which Octavian must lead his men through, promising they shall reach their beloved Rome upon arrival. "Do not fear me," Ray softens his voice. "You are but mortals and cannot understand the workings of Jupiter. You shall be rewarded -"

"No!" Nate nearly screams in the comm links. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Okay!" Ray throws his hands up. "Time to go!"

—

"C'mon Frost bite," Mick barks. "Let's make this quick."

"I don't specialize in quickies, babe," Killer Frost quips back. "But for you, I will."

He chuckles as he raises his heat gun, taking care to hold it steady with both hands. Having been dropped closest to the army camp, he'd made sure to stay hidden behind the tents at the edge of the encampment. One spotting and he's a goner. Luckily, decades of being a delinquent alongside Leonard Snart has taught him stealth. His footsteps are light and nearly silent as he jogs back a few paces.

If Sara wanted him to burn through the Romans, he could easily. But creating a contained fire fence, and entrapping the warriors inside was a bigger challenge. He'd have to cover the ground section by section, somehow without creating an uproar from their target. Zari was stationed somewhere to his right. Too far for him to see her, but if he could stretch his flames far enough, she could use her totem and conjure up some wind to carry the fire further down.

"Alright gang," Haircut's chipperness cuts through Mick's analysis. "I'm leading the Emperor out of his tent. Ready?"

The heat gun revs, surging its power. Mick grunts in response.

"On my mark," Sara instructs. "Three, two, one. Now!"

He pulls the trigger and a long, blazing stream of orange, yellow, and red releases. It catches the dry grass of the field immediately and carries on, racing down the open plain quicker and quicker by the second. A few licks of flame jump to the encampment, reaching the tents along the border.

"Shit," Mick mutters as the fabric goes up in smoke. "Boss the camp's gonna burn. It's too dry out here."

"Hold back" Sara commands and he releases the trigger, dropping his gun to his side. He frowns at the flames. It's not big enough to be monstrous, but beautiful just the same. He can feel the pull, the want, but it's small enough to ignore.

Until it's not.

A wind sweeps through, feeding the small wildfire and graduating it to a six foot blaze, swallowing camp tents and sending men running and shouting.

"Shit!" Zari yells over the comms. "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!"

An inferno rages on before him and a tingle works down his spine. An itch, a need to walk into the fire, to raise his heat gun and add more to the destruction, to give in.

He steps forward.

The weight of the pull grows as he moves closer to the heat. " 'S beautiful," he murmurs.

And then, in the far, far corner of his mind, behind the pyromania and the anger and the loneliness, a drawling, nearly forgotten voice pushes forward.

Now, now, Mick. Don't let it control you.

He narrows his eyes, clenches his jaw. "Where yah been?" He growls.

Dead, Mick. Still dead.

He shakes his head, rubs his eyes. "Right." The grasp he has on his heat gun starts to hurt his hand. "Right." He lets out a deep breath. He presses a button on his commlink. "Blondie. Vulcan."

Without hesitation, Sara answers back. "Stay where you are. We're on our way to pull you out."

Grinding his teeth he clicks off. "...thanks."

Say no more, partner.

—

The panic was anticipated. And as Amaya made her way through the crowds of warriors, her totem giving her the strength of a lion, she did her best to inflict as little injury as she could on the others.

The fire had caused a rush of the army pushing away. And then the group found themselves unable to penetrate a solid, indestructible wall of pure ice. As well as their Emperor shouting that Jupiter had visited him and this was their test. Would they stay to die in these foreign lands, or return home with him?

The crowd had surged forward, eager to follow Octavian through the portal Ava had opened revealing a gorgeous landscape of cypress trees and rose bushes. Rome was calling the soldiers home, and they're desperation clawed through them.

"They're moving," Amaya says, side sweeping away from a warrior kicking his horse to full speed towards the portal.

"Run you fools!" He shouts. "It is as Octavian says! Jupiter brings us home! Run! Or stay and burn in this cursed inferno!"

"At least we don't have to do much," Nate shrugs.

"Lucky you!" Killer Frost shouts over the comm. Through the crowd, Amaya is able to see an impressive wall of solid ice, taller than the men sitting astride their horses and stretching farther down the encampment than she can see.

"How yah holding up, K.F.?"

A scoff is heard over the comms. "Listen, himbo, don't you dare try to give me some dumb nickname. We are not friends, even if Caity does like you losers."

"Just answer the question," Sara orders.

Killer Frost sighs. "I can hold out a bit longer, but you all need to hurry up."

Quickly Amaya scans the size of the group of remaining Roman soldiers. "Almost half have gone through the portal."

"Less than half?!" Killer Frost yelps. "Are you kidding me?!"

Over the commlinks, Mick's gruff voice interjects. "Boss, I'm stayin',"

"Negative," Sara answers. "You said the codeword. Under no circumstances can I let you stay down there. We're coming to pull you out."

"She needs help," Mick argues. Amaya looks at Nate, who shares her concern. Vulcan was the codeword the team had come up with whenever Mick's pyromania was activated. Anyone could use it and pull him out of the fight before he completely lost it. The fact that Mick himself had said it was a mark of how far he'd come in trying to manage his mental health.

"We got this buddy," Nate answers. "Zari, you can push them through with your wind totem, right?"

"I mean, if you want me to also set the entire camp on fire? Then yes, I can do that."

Before he can argue more, Sara lays down the law. "Mick, you don't have a choice. You're out."

Amaya lets out a sigh. "Come on, we should probably move out of this. No one is trying to fight us and soon we'll be caught up in smoke."

"Yeah," Nate nods. "Kind of a bummer though. I was really hoping I could see Octavian in the flesh."

They dodge out of the flurry of rushing bodies. In their panic, no one bothers to spare them any attention.

"So we're really doing this?" Her arms are starting to ache from holding them up for so long and pushing power down through her fingertips. "We're going to be a part of a team of morons?"

They're not morons, Caitlin chides. They're a little chaotic. And not the greatest at planning.

Killer Frost rolls her eyes. "To put it lightly. Look, I was all for having an adventure, but I thought that meant a lot less work on my end. You've got that big brain and spend all day talking to the computer -"

Gideon is so much more than a computer!

"Whatever! My point is that I never signed up to be a hero!"

You helped Team Flash all the time.

"Yeah, but I like Dibny and Ramon! They don't care if I make an ass out of myself at the bar, and they have fantastic gossip, and -"

What? What gossip?

Killer Frost clenches her jaw, trying to ignore that she's starting to feel exhaustion creeping in. "Nevermind. Now shut up for a sec, I gotta concentrate." A stream of ice flows from her, building a thick wall a few feet away from her. Slowly she walks down the empty Nebraskan field, trying to cover as much space as she can with her contribution to the mission. Her powers were mighty and could be downright lethal when she wanted them to be. But she'd never used them like this before; never stopping for a breather or letting herself recharge, so to speak.

"Just a little longer, Killer Frost," Sara encourages, as if reading her mind. "Zari's got them all almost within sight of the portal. Give it a little more and then we'll pull you in."

"Thank God!" She grits out. "Yoga, Caitlin. We are starting yoga tomorrow. And I want a weekly massage, make it happen!"

"You know," Ray chimes in. "Yoga would be an excellent team building -"

"No!" Killer Frost barks. "No team yoga! Not everything has to be done as a group!"

Over the wall of ice, she can see thick clouds of smoke and the bright red and orange flames of Mick's fire. Zari's totem power was pushing the fire through the camp faster, feasting on dry grass and the soldiers now abandoned tents.

Any minute now, Caitlin offered. You got this.

Killer Frost rolls her eyes. "Ugh, please." A pang of embarrassment goes through her and she knows it's from Caitlin. She swallows down her pride and mutters, "Thanks." A warmth of joy practically smacks through her, telling of her alter ego's happiness.

"Alright," Sara finally says. "Prepare for pick up."

With a groan of relief, Killer Frost drops her arms to her sides. "I'm serious about that massage!" she gripes before the Waverider lands and releases the loading ramp.

–

"Overall very successful mission." Ava stands with her hands behind her back, beaming at the hologram of the Legends second attempt of the Octavian mission. "Zari burnt down half of Nebraska, but otherwise I would say your team managed to pull this off."

Sara stands with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against her office desk. Ava was right; the team had done well. Zari and Killer Frost were especially stellar in their abilities and adaptability. She'd already promised she'd get her team Fatso Burger as a congratulations. Killer Frost had merely stormed off for a shower and solitude. An hour later, Caitlin had come trotting down the Waverider's halls, apologizing for the rude exit.

Killer Frost's icy demeanor wasn't her source of worry, though. "I'm worried about Rory."

Ava looks over at her, her smile vanishing. "Yes, I can understand why."

"He hasn't had to use Vulcan in a while. Do you think somethings wrong?"

Ava lets out a sigh and fixes Sara with a sad, half hearted smile. "I think there's a lot of things wrong with Rory. And I think he made the right call to use his codeword, and you made the right call pulling him out."

"It's not like he and I are super open about our feelings or whatever," Sara shrugs and looks down at her feet, the heavy weight of her responsibilities a constant presence. "But I mean, I am the captain of this ship. I should probably know if he needs help. He's my second in command, for fuck's sake."

Ava comes to stand next to her, leaning against the large oak desk as well. "Being a captain is exhausting. Some would say its akin to babysitting. But," She nudges Sara's shoulder. "You're doing a really good job. Rory's condition is sensitive and I'm sure he's sensitive about it. Give it some time, and handle it the way you two always handle things."

"I dunno, the shiner he gave me last time just finally healed."

Ava smirks. "I meant drinking."

"You condone getting wasted with your crew?" Sara raises an eyebrow.

Ava smiles. "I condone helping your crew work through whatever they're going through. And also, I am not your superior. I'm just your friend."

Sara looks down at her shoes and nods. "Yeah. You're right." She lets out a sigh and pushes off from the desk. "I better go find him."

"For what it's worth," Ava stands up straight. "I, uh, I like drinking too."

Sara grins at the blush spreading across Ava's cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind," she says smoothly and slips out the door.

–

He flicks his lighter repeatedly, watching the flame, hovering his hand over it until the pain makes him snatch it away. He's been sitting in his room for an hour, alone and angry. He loves the flames and always will. However, he needs a better grip on reality if he wants to stay in control of his own life.

Don't let it control you, Snart had always said. And he was right. Mick didn't want to give anything power over him, not even the one thing he loved above all else. He was so close to losing himself to the mania today and he couldn't figure out why. He'd always been a bit insane, but he had been doing pretty good for quite a while. It took longer to slip, longer to give in. Yet he fell prey so easily during the mission, so quickly.

He snaps his lighter shut and pushes himself off of his bed. Wallowing in his room wasn't going to solve anything, or temper the rage inside him. He pushes the button to open his bedroom door and steps out into the hallway. If nothing else, he'll head to the cargo hold and hit something until his knuckles bleed and the chaotic noise in his mind stops.

He didn't even want to address the fact that he'd heard Snart's voice. When Leo Snart - the variant of Len from Earth X - had eventually left the Legends to return home to his husband, the phantom whisperings of Captain Cold had fizzled out and died, leaving Mick alone in his brain. And he'd managed to build a system to keep himself in check when the flames called to him. Vulcan had been created during a discussion between himself, Sara, and Amaya, and it had worked great so far. No one on the team abused the power of using the codeword, and Mick never fought on if he should be taken out of the mission or not.

After forty-eight years, maybe he was finally calming down.

As he passes the med bay, he notices the good doctor sitting at a computer. Her brow is furrowed as she reads the scientific jumbo on the screen; she writes on a little pad of paper and tucks the pen behind her ear when she's finished jotting down her notes. Her regular pencil skirts and high heels have been swapped out for a pair of black jogger sweats, white fuzzy socks, and a pullover shirt with the S.T.A.R. Labs logo on it. Gideon has probably fabricated a duplicate wardrobe from the one she left in her apartment.

Her apartment that a future version of him had broken into.

He knew that apartment; had staked it out when he'd kidnapped her years ago. The fact that she hadn't moved always struck him as brave. And why should she move? He'd already tied her to a bomb, looked her dead in the eye, and threatened to end her life. Savagely she'd glared back at him and said he could go ahead.

And he'd never forgotten that.

"Rory?" He looks over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. Sara offers a small smile to him. "Hey, we gotta go over some stuff."

He looks back at Caitlin. "What kinda stuff?"

"The mission, mostly."

"Didn't you an' Ava cover it already?"

He can feel Sara's glare boring into his back. "It doesn't matter if Ava and I -"

"Like hell it doesn't."

"God, Mick!" Sara throws her arms in the air. "What do you want me to do? I'm trying to extend an olive branch here!"

He glances over at her again. "Shouldn't be in a position where yah need tah do that."

A beat passes between them before Sara is yanking on his elbow, whirling him around to face her. She sticks her finger in his face. "I'm ordering you to come with me and review the Octavian mission."

His temper rises as he glares at her. Sara stalks away without looking back, fully expecting him to follow her like a dog.

He gives one last look to Caitlin at her computer, where she sits very still, the pencil in her hand hovering over her notepad, shaking.

Sara has never been the kind to promote mental wellness, and in fact, tends to ignore any rising issues circling the topic. When her parents divorced, she'd largely covered her sorrow with boys and booze. When she was swept out to sea and survived Ivo, she'd launched herself into becoming the perfect assassin for Ra's al Ghul and lover for his daughter Nyssa. When she was murdered and brought back to life, she'd ignored the nightmares and bloodlust, pushing them so far down she was nearly functional. When Lenard died, she became ice. When her sister died, she became steel. And when her father died, she became stone.

Over and over, she's faced death and trauma and learned how to ignore it, push it away, force it down. Put herself last, in order to keep others going on.

And tonight, as she leads Mick down the hall of the Waverider, enough anger coursing through her to rip his fucking face off, the thought occurs to her that he's been doing the exact same thing. Mick's got roughly thirteen years on her, and it's only been recently that he's even attempted to do something about his pyromania. He certainly did not grow up in a loving household with options like therapy.

Ripping his face off probably wasn't what a Captain should do. Sara sighs. They stop in her office, which Ava has mercifully cleared out of. The sight of her would probably set Mick off, which was decidedly not the goal here. When she turns to face him, she's met with Heatwave not Mick. He's tense and red faced, eyes glaring her down. His beefy arms are crossed over his chest again, and he stands near the door, surely ready to exit the second he gets a chance.

"Mick -"

"You want me out, just fuckin' say it," he snaps at her.

Sara blinks. "What?"

"You want me out just fuckin' say it."

She frowns at him. "I don't want you out. Why would even -"

"Don't play dumb, Blondie. You -"

"Stop cutting me off! God, you've been such a -"

"Whatta yah fuckin' want from me then?! You run to Sharpe for everything -"

"I do not!"

"Bull shit! What's the point of givin' me some damn title, when you only listen to her?"

"I listen to you!" Sara practically screeches.

Mick throws his head back and laughs. The sound fills the room and Sara clenches her fists to keep herself from lunging at his throat. "I ain't dumb. But for fuck's sake, why did you name me your second?"

Sara clamps her mouth shut, refusing to answer.

"C'mon, Boss." Mick narrows his eyes at her, the crease between his brows deepening. "We both know you made the wrong choice."

She shakes her head. "No, I didn't. I," she lets out a frustrated breath. The ring on the chain around her neck feels heavy. "I picked you because I trust you."

When Mick doesn't say anything, she runs a hand through her blonde hair. "I trust you and…and you get it. You've done this before, been on a team, been in charge of people, had a partner. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. As fucked up as it might be, I chose you because I wanted someone who could've given a little guidance on all this shit."

His eyebrows shoot upwards. "You wanted me to teach yah how to lead?"

Sara shrugs. "Rip is gone. I don't think we're going to find him. And -" she looks away. "And Len's dead. I guess, partly, I wanted you as my second because…" She swallows and looks up at him. "You get it."

His expression softens, but he doesn't say anything. He never does; they never do. Not about this, not about that night and the life they lost.

"I'm sorry about Ava," Sara says around the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry for being a jackass. And I'm sorry I have been consulting her before I come and talk to you."

He hums a grumble, which she decodes as his version of verbalizing forgiveness. "Her plan was shit."

Sara chuckles. "Yeah, yeah it was. But, the team did a great job that second round." She smiles at him. "And I'm really proud of you."

He raises a brow at her.

"Look, I actually came to find you because I wanted to know if you're alright. We haven't had to use Vulcan in a long time. What happened?"

In a matter of seconds, that angered look returns. "Nothin'."

The hope in her deflates. "Come on, Mick. Don't do that."

"Leave it alone," He warns. "It's over."

"Is it over?" She can't help the concern leeching through her, the voice that sounds a bit panicked. You can't go too. Subconsciously, she fingers the ring she wears around her neck. Mick tracks the movement. "We can get you help."

"Leave it alone," He growls, voice like gravel. He turns and makes for the door.

"Why?!" Sara pushes, crossing the room quickly and grabbing his arm. "We're friends. This is what friends do! Talk to me!"

He rips his arm out of her grip with a grunt and stomps out into the hall. "I ain't that kinda friend. Talk to Palmer if yah wanna get all deep an' shit. Leave me alone."

She lets him go.

Irritated and ready for a beer, Mick strides down the hall towards his room. Fuck Lance and her superiority and let's talk about our feelings bull shit. He's fine. He did the right thing and used the codeword and got out of a situation that he could have made incredibly worse. That should be enough.

He passes the Medbay and barely glances in. The sight of Caitlin, still working at the same computer as before, has him stopping at the entrance. The rage inside him fizzles out while he watches her, leaning up against the doorway. It's late, the rest of the Waverider silent. And yet here she sits, working just as steadfast as ever. A determined expression on her face, her eyes scanning over the screen before her. Every so often she bites her bottom lip and furrows her brow, as if what she's reading confuses her.

Fuck, he wants to bite that lip.

He clears his throat, making his presence known before he walks into the Medbay. Caitlin doesn't look up from the computer, the typing on the keyboard the only sound in the room. He waits, folding his arms over his big chest. After a moment longer, she glances up at him and blinks.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't hear you." She rubs at her eyes and offers him a tired smile. "I tend to focus a bit too much whenever I start a new research project."

"Research for what?" He pulls up a chair and sits across from her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Well," Caitlin rubs the back of her neck. "I thought I would get a move on this mysterious enemy out to kill you all." Her hand moves to her shoulder, kneading the muscle. Caitlin grimaces in pain.

"Thinkin' about that yoga, doc?" Mick raises a brow at her.

She grins at him. "It's probably a good idea." She switches to her other shoulder and Mick wonders what it'd be like to help her ease the problem. He's got strong hands, he could work those knots until they dissolved and Snowflake's aching would be over. "How are you doing?" she asks him.

He knows she's only asking because she's a decent human being and his situation was intense. The Flash probably didn't need a damn codeword. Kid probably had a good fuckin' grip on his mental health. He ignores her question, responding instead with, "We gotta talk, Snowflake." She tilts her head just slightly. "'Bout this future me an' all."

Caitlin stops her massaging and stills. "What do you want to know?"

"I wanna know why I came to your apartment."

"I told you," She answers. "You wanted medical help."

"Lotsa hospitals in the city, doc. Lotsa places I coulda gone anywhere throughout time. Why'd I go to you?"

She presses her lips together and swallows. "I-I can't tell you. You know I can't."

Mick narrows his eyes at her. "Snart's dead. My team's dead. Where's Lisa in this future?"

"I-I don't know."

He can see her start to shake. She's afraid of you, yah dumb fuck. He hadn't even given her a taste of what a true interrogation from him is like, and here she was quivering and barely able to get her words out. He looks down at his clasped hands, coming up with the right thing to say. "Look Snowflake, I don't -"

"Hey Mick?" Hair Cut peeks his head in from the hall. His hair is ruffled from sleep and he's got a matching set of white and blue striped pajamas on. "Sorry, I just had an idea about finding Rip. Sara's not answering, so I thought…?"

Mick nods, "Gimme a minute. Go grab us some beers and I'll meet yah on the Bridge." At Ray's departure, his attention turns back to Caitlin. He leans back in his chair, eyeing her cooly.

Caitlin stares back, looking for all the world like a cornered rabbit.

"Stop that," he jerks his chin at her, hands twisting her fingers and picking at her cuticles. "It's a dead giveaway that yer nervous."

She stops and rests her hands in her lap. "I can't tell you, Mick. I wish I could, but the risk is too high."

He hadn't expected her to give in, but he'll get the answer from her eventually. Sometimes the slow game is the only way to play. He points at the computer. "What'dyah find so far?"

"Oh," Caitlin blinks. He represses a grin, knowing his change of subject had thrown her off. That's the thing about extracting information - you don't always need to be blatant about it. "Well, not really much of anything. I've made a list of likely enemies, most of which are from the team's individual lives before boarding the Waverider. Sara has quite a lot of people who want her dead. And, uhm, so do you. You, uhm, you have the most, in fact."

He smirks. "That surprise you?"

She frowns at him. "Not especially." He chuckles. And just when he's about to quip a smart ass remark, Caitlin quietly adds, "But I wish you didn't."

A quiet energy pulls between them and Mick can't bring himself to tear away from the doe eyes staring back at him. It's not a crackling, electric, sizzling streak of electricity zapping them. Instead a soft humming, persistent, and low gently flows in that space between his being and hers. If he pulled on it a little, would it grow or snap?

He doesn't want to take the risk. And instead, gets up without a word.