TAKE FROM ME MY LACE

The cargo hold had unofficially become the training site for the Legends. Even with the random boxes stacked along the walls, the room was just big enough to fit the entire team. They had settled themselves into a circle, with Sara in the middle, holding her bo staff.

"It comes to my attention, that you all suck at fighting." She smirks at her crew, passing the bo staff from hand to hand casually. "And as your Captain, it's my job to fix that." She points at Nate. "Come on. No powers. Just good old fashioned hand to hand combat."

"Why do you get to have a weapon?"

Sara smiles at him. "If you can take it from me, you can have it."

"Oh, damn it," Nate mutters. He steps into the circle and raises his fists, slightly bends his knees, and gulps.

Sara doesn't bother to ready herself. Nate was a threat as Citizen Steel. As Nate his fighting needed a lot of work. She jerks her chin up. "Come on. Come at me."

"Yeah right," Nate huffs out a laugh. "I'm not stupid."

Sara shrugs. "Suit yourself." She lunges at him, swinging her staff and cracking it across his ribs.

The impact has Nate doubling over with an "Oof!" Quickly straightening himself, he winces and throws a glare at Sara. She doesn't give him much time to recover and already has the staff swinging for his face.

"Woah! Hey!" Nate ducks to avoid a blow to his temple. "Sara, what the hell?!"

She spins, twirling the staff overhead before bringing it down hard enough to crack against Nate's exposed side. The contact is enough to bring him to the ground with a hard thud against the metal floor.

Sara turns to the rest of the team. "Too slow, didn't take advantage of attacking first, didn't recover quick enough and left himself exposed."

"Yeah, thanks. Got it," Nate groans as he pushes himself up off the floor. He manages to hobble himself to Amaya, who offers him a sympathetic smile.

"Who's next?" Sara scans the team. "Ray?"

The technologist tries his best not to look terrified and enters the circle. He brings his fists up to cover his face and sets his stance. As soon as Sara stands across from him, he throws a punch at her. She dodges, and Ray swings again. Sara blocks with her left hand and then sends her right fist to Ray's jaw. His head snaps to the side at the jab. He quickly recovers and goes for an uppercut. Sara jumps out of his reach, then swings the bo staff at him. Ray dives to the side, rolling and popping back up quickly. But Sara is there, slamming her heel into Ray's face. The crunch of his nose breaking and the howl of pain signify the end of their match.

"Not bad," Sara smiles as Ray hustles out of the cargo hold to have Gideon set his nose. "Quick, dodged out of range. Good thing Oliver spent those months training him."

"Come on, Blondie." Mick moves into the circle. "Send everyone to the medbay and you ain't gonna have a team." He rolls his shoulders and without any warning, rushes at Sara. She braces herself, but Mick is too quick for her to react and slams his body into her, knocking her onto the floor like a damn bull. The bo staff goes skidding a few feet away from them. He gets up, speaking to the team without taking his eyes off of Sara. "Keep yer enemy pinned under yah, if yah can. Sock the fuck outta them while yah got 'em stuck. Ain't gonna do that today. Boss wants to show off." He grins.

Sara rushes at him, launching into the air and wrapping her slim legs around his neck and shoulders. She uses the momentum to fling her weight and bring Mick lurching forward and to the ground. They both roll, as if they'd choreographed this. Sara pops up and sweeps her legs at Mick's ankles as he stands. He trips back, slamming into the ground.

"Fuck," he growls. Sara moves quickly, aiming to kick at his temple. Survival instincts kick in and he rolls away, pushes up, takes a kick to the ribs, and staggers for a few seconds. Sara is at him again, sending her fists to his face. Sweat beads on her forehead, blue eyes narrowed in a scowl. Mick blocks her punches by raising his forearms to intercept them. He flips his arm over hers, grabs her wrist and yanks her towards him while also twisting her arm behind her back. He snakes his other arm under her armpit and snags her into a half headlock, securing his grip by holding on to the back of her head. Sara tries to smack her head into his face, but he's got control of her head and neck and shoves her forward instead. She stumbles forward, catching herself on the wall as Zari and Caitlin hustle out of the way.

Mick stalks towards her, watching her every move and as ready as a cat to pounce at the first opening. Sara spins around, huffing. "Come on, you fucker."

He smirks. "Tauntin' don't work on me." He stays put, braced for impact.

"Sure it will," she smiles. "Show everyone how big and strong you are. Show 'em why you're a wanted criminal."

Mick chuckles. "Think they know, Boss."

"Yeah, well," Sara launches herself at him again. Mick catches her on the impact and effectively lifts and flips her over him. She lands with a spring off her palms, pushing herself into another roll and spins on the rise, kicking her foot out where his face would be.

Mick stands far enough away that the move doesn't touch him. "Uh-uh," he wags a finger at her.

"This is going to take forever," Nate mutters from the side. "Can't we call a tie?"

"Never," Sara grumbles. She meets Mick in the middle of the circle, both poised and ready. He's got street fighting skill, survival skill, and a whole lot of rage and strength to back him up. But she's Sara Lance, a trained assassin for Ra's al Ghul, the White Canary, and the Captain of the Waverider. Quick as a flash, she punches. Mick ducks and steps back in an old school bob and weave pattern. He wants to tire her out so he can coldcock her and send her to the Medbay. She won't let him.

Swing after swing, Mick ducks and moves faster than someone his age or size normally would. She kicks her feet; Mick jumps back, her toes sweeping the fabric of his jacket. Maybe they'd sparred too much lately. Maybe she was getting predictable and easy to fend off.

For just a moment, she halts. No, she grimaces. She was not predictable, or easy, or lazy. And this old fuck was going down. Sara rushes him, grabs ahold of his jacket and -

Mick clutches her wrists in an ironclad grip, lurches her forward and smacks his forehead against her face.

"Fuck!" Sara yelps, pain swarming her. Blood gushes out of her nose and she knows immediately that it's broken. "What the fuck?!"

Mick smirks at her. "Little revenge for Haircut."

"I'm trying to teach them something!" Sara growls back at him. Caitlin hurries over to her and places her thumbs on either sides of her nose.

"Ready?" The doctor asks. Sara nods and clenches her jaw as her nose is reset. She uses her shirt sleeve to dab at the blood on her upper lip. Mick watches with his arms across his chest, a smug smile on his face.

"Next time, teach 'em how to block better."

"Fuck you," Sara barks at him. "Alright, anyone wanna take on this old bastard?"

Next to her, Caitlin clears her throat. "Uhm, actually. I would."

The team collectively raises their brows. Caitlin frowns in response. "I know it's not really my forte. But I would like to learn how to learn how to defend myself."

"Doesn't Killer Frost do that for you?" Nate asks.

"Well, yes." Caitlin smoothes an imaginary rumple in her pencil skirt. "And I know she's a valuable asset to the team. However, I would like to try as well."

Sara smiles at her with pride. "Absolutely. You should learn how to fight. Never know what could happen." She turns to Mick. "Go easy on her."

The arsonist merely stands as Caitlin steps up to him. In her heels she's nearly at eye level with him. She inhales, shakes her shoulders, and then raises her fists up, mimicking what she'd seen earlier.

"Good," Sara smiles, blood still staining her upper lip. "Keep your balance even between your feet and drop down to a semi squat. Did you play any sports growing up?"

"No," Caitlin swallows.

"Okay, well, you've seen basketball, right?"

"Of course," she blows a stray lock of her hair out of her face with a puff of air.

"Mimic that half stand, half squat they do. Brace your core. Keep your fists up, that's to protect your face. Some asshole is gonna try to break your nose at some point."

Caitlin bends her knees to lower her center gravity.

"Should probably take yer spikes off, Snowflake," Mick smirks at her with amusement.

"Absolutely not," Caitlin quips back. "I'm always in pumps. It'd be best to learn how to fight while wearing them." She looks over her shoulder to Sara. "Don't you agree?"

Sara's smile is from ear to ear. "Yes. Keep them on. The more comfortable you are fighting in them, the better."

Mick chuckles, his smirk morphing into an actual grin.

"Now," Sara goes on. "Throw a punch at him."

Caitlin gulps, worry etching her face. "What if I hit him?"

"Good!" Sara encourages. "That's the goal."

She can't help the shake in her voice when she asks Mick. "A-are you going to hit back?" He frowns at her. "Because if you do hit back, please don't aim for my face or head. I could maybe take it in the torso, but I'm certain I would -"

"Just swing," Mick cuts her off.

"Okay, okay!" She rolls her neck and lets out a huff of exasperation. "Okay." She licks her lips.

"Don't be nervous," Sara offers from the side. "Throw your fist at him and follow through with your torso. Let your foot pivot. You can even take a full step as you follow through."

Don't be nervous, Killer Frost repeats. It's one punch and he's letting you hit him.

Caitlin throws her punch, and it does hit Mick. Right in the jaw. His face swings to the right by the force. "Oh my God!" Caitlin yelps, covering her mouth with a hand. "I am so sorry!"

Don't apologize; are you kidding me?! She ignores Killer Frost and takes a step towards Mick to inspect where she'd made contact. To her surprise, he smiles at her while rubbing his jaw.

"Not bad," he encourages. "Any harder and yah might'a given me a fat lip."

"Really?" Should she be ashamed of the excitement running through her? By nature, she's a pacifist. And aside from that, she has a reputation as a scientist! Fighting was not something she'd thought she'd ever boast about.

Sara offers her a boost of confidence. "Your form isn't terrible. Barry or Joe never gave you any pointers?"

Caitlin shakes her head. "No; I never asked. I didn't think I would ever need to learn."

"Well," Sara shrugs. "Now's as good of a time as any to start. Give it another go." She looks to Mick. "Block this time."

"C'mon Blondie, she don't need a step-by-step. Let 'er fight." Mick cracks his knuckles. To Caitlin he says, "Whatta yah say? I'll go easy on yah."

She chews her bottom lip. "I suppose experimentation is the best tactic. Who knows," she grins. "Maybe I'll give you that fat lip after all."

Mick squares up. "Hopin' for it, sweetheart."

Caitlin takes a deep breath and does her best to mimic his stance. Her heels are no issue, she could sprint in them if need be, but she knows that she has weak arms and her core strength is basically nonexistent. Fighting Mick, even if he were to take it easy on her, was likely to wear her out quickly.

We need to start doing more than yoga, she shoots to Killer Frost.

Surrounding them, the other Legends watch with varying looks of interest and slight concern. Surely someone would say something if this wasn't, in fact, a good idea? Nevertheless, Caitlin has decided to learn how to fight, and this seems to be the available method.

Aim for that smug fucking face, Frost demands. Right in the nose.

"C'mon," Mick taunts her. "Swing."

And so she does. Mick's hand snaps out and snatches her fist so fast, Caitlin has no time to recover before he's pulling her towards him, twisting her arm behind her back, and wrapping his other arm across her chest. She struggles against him, trying to simultaneously push him backwards and pull herself forwards. It's useless, of course. The man has pythons for arms.

Panic starts to creep its way up her. Her breath came in quicker and she felt the chill that came with her meta-human abilities growing stronger.

"Ah, ah, ah," She can feel the rumble in his chest. "No powers, Snow."

Fuck that, Killer Frost comes blaring forward. She flings her head backwards, striking as hard as she can against Mick's nose.

"Fuck!" He reels backwards, letting her go. Killer Frost faces him, her arm raised and ready to blast ice through her fingertips.

And suddenly, Sara is there. Standing between her second and the meta-human, a look of pure fury on her delicate face. "Stand down."

Frost glares at her, the room growing colder with each passing second. Ice laces across the surfaces and breath comes out in puffs of white.

"It's a training exercise. You can't take this away from Caitlin. Stand down."

Without a word, Frost drops her arm and raises her chin. She surveys Sara, skeptically roving her eyes over every inch of her. This was a warning, a silent, deadly warning to Sara and the rest of the team. Caitlin may be their friend, Killer Frost is not. And it would take minimal effort for her to kill them all.

She spares not a glance at any of the others before she retreats and Caitlin is standing before them again. The cargo hold immediately heats up at the switch. Sheepishly Caitlin tucks a lock of brown hair behind an ear. "Uh, I uhm. I wouldn't be opposed to trying again."

Mick crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Nah. We're done."

"What?" Caitlin blinks.

"What?" Sara snaps. "Like hell! She's got every right to-"

"Ain't 'bout rights." His eyes glare into hers. "Snowflake an' Frosty got some issues to work out before round two."

"She's just trying to protect me."

"That's the problem."

Caitlin scoffs. "It's a problem that she wants to protect me?"

"It's a problem that she don't let yah fight for yourself," Mick clenches his jaw.

"How can I learn to fight for myself if you won't -"

"Ain't me, sweetheart. It's that Elsa reject yah got inside yah that won't."

Notably, Killer Frost is completely silent during this exchange. Though Caitlin does suspect that a portion of the anger she feels bubbling inside of her is coming from her alter ego. "God," she huffs out in frustration.

"Name's Mick, s'alright though. Easy mistake."

"You are absolutely insufferable!" She presses the heels of her palms to her forehead. "You're actually refusing to train me?"

"Yep."

She drops her hands to her sides, balling them into fists. "You know there's an entire team of people I could ask to train me. One of which is an actual assassin!"

He nods. "You don't want them. You want me."

He was right. He was fucking right. She wanted him to train her, not because Sara isn't lethal, or Amaya isn't dedicated, but because he is savage. Where Sara is calculated, Mick is instinctual. Where Amaya is disciplined, Mick is habitual. Every part of him has been running on survival for damn near 50 years.

And she wanted to replicate that. She wanted her training to become so regular it was no longer considered training. She wanted that constant preparedness to settle into her bones and keep her alert at all times. She wanted to be vicious and unleashed like…

Like…Killer Frost. She wanted to be on par with her other half. And Mick knew it, and he knew she needed him to help her achieve it.

"Tell yah what," He grumbles. "You get as good as Frostbite, then we'll fight. 'Til then yer just wastin' my time."

It probably wasn't meant to hurt her feelings. It did anyways. Leave, Killer Frost snarls. And Caitlin did.

"What was that for?!" Sara chastises, following Mick out of the cargo hold. "She just wants to learn."

Mick glances at her without breaking pace. "What if Killer Frost don't wanna help? Snowflake's gotta learn to take care of herself."

"Go apologize to her," Sara shoves him. "She already feels useless, which is why she wants to learn how to fight!"

Mick frowns, "What? She ain't useless."

"No shit!" Sara shouts. "You did a fine fuckin' job of making her feel like it. In front of the whole damn team too!"

"She ain't useless." He repeats, his brow furrowed as if he cannot comprehend why Caitlin would ever think was. She couldn't fight worth shit, sure. But that didn't mean she was useless.

"Go tell her that!"

He grumbles a "God damn it," before leaving Sara. The assassin turns back into the cargo hold, where the rest of her crew awaits. He finds Caitlin practically running down the hall, heading for her room. "Snowflake." She ignores him and walks faster. Normally, he'd leave it at that, let her stew in her self pity and anger. But she thought she was useless when she wasn't. And maybe he was being an ass, but he wasn't going to coddle her!

"Snow!" He manages to get close enough to grab her elbow. "C'mon, stop runnin'"

She spins around and shoved him as hard as she can in the chest. A look of pure fury on her face and tears brimming her eyes. "Stay away from me!"

He glared at her. "You gonna throw a fit whenever shit don't go your way?"

"You were an asshole! You're always an asshole, and I don't get it!" Her face is turning red. "What did I do to you? We were fine. I thought we were even becoming friends. And now," she sniffs and wipes at her eyes. "Now it's like, like you get some sick joy out embarrassing me."

He frowns at her, arms crossed over his chest. She looks at him expectantly, eyes watery and a scowl plastered on her face. What's he supposed to do? He isn't her little boyfriend, and he sure as hell won't stoop to groveling for forgiveness. Instead, he clenches his jaw and grits out, "Yah done?"

Caitlin's nostrils flare and her eyes switch to pale blue before she spins on her heel and marches away.

He doesn't follow her

He'd successfully avoided her for six days. Six days of no early morning story swapping over coffee and bacon. Six days of no late night checks to see if she'd made it to bed or was snoring on a keyboard in the Medbay. Six days of keeping as far away from her as possible during briefings and time jumps and the random run in on the way to the ships only bathroom.

And yet on the seventh day, Mick's peace was put to rest.

The fight exploded during a meeting in Sara's office. The entire team was packed in the small room. Blessedly Ava had not been present. The last thing he needed was the director sitting front row to an all out brawl between him and one of his crewmates.

Sara had briefed them on a jump in the late 1980s they were about to make. There was a suggestion of irregular activity at a concert and Gideon thought it could possibly be related to Damion Dahrk. When Caitlin was assigned ground team, Mick had spoken without thinking and barked out, "No."

And that was enough for Caitlin to unleash on him. She rained insults down on him, her voice growing louder with each one. Of course he wouldn't let her go out on a mission. He had absolutely no trust or faith in her as a teammate, and yadda yadda yadda. Whatever she said wasn't entirely important. The fact was that she was aiming to hurt.

It took a lot more than a shitty attitude and self righteousness to hurt him. But if she wanted to tumble, he'd give her what she wanted.

He'd called her a spoiled bitch, a porcelain doll, and weak, She'd screamed at him, which only made him laugh, despite the tears she tried to hide as she scurried out of Sara's office.

Now, the rest of the team is watching him, and suddenly the Bridge feels too heavy with opinion. The six pairs of critical eyes scrutinizing him; the lengthy silence stretching between them; the half smirk on Sara's face; it's enough to make him want to hit something.

The concert is all bright lights and electronic music. Caitlin feels silly in her outfit of neon colored jelly bracelets, ripped acid wash jeans, and crimped hair. Nevertheless, she follows Amaya through the crowd of enthusiastic ravers.

"I can't stand this music," Caitlin shouts over the noise.

Amaya smiles over her shoulder. "It's not exactly my taste either. However, it is fascinating to witness the evolution of music since 1942."

The beat drops and the crowd cheers, everybody jumping in time with the new tempo. Caitlin covers her ears and glares at those around her. "Can we get out of here?"

Amaya scans the crowd, looking for the other Legends. "As soon as we find Nathaniel, we can."

The women slowly press on and make their way through the sea of people, most of which pay them no attention. Juan Atkins had a grip on his audience that could not be broken, even if the ground split open and hot molten lava spouted out.

Caitlin follows Amaya closely and lucky enough, they find Ray standing on the edge of the crowd, near one of the exits. Mick stands next to him, arms crossed at the chest and glaring at the stage. He does a fine job of ignoring her and so Caitlin does the same.

"Anything?" Ray asks.

Amaya shakes her head. "You?"

"We had a little bit of trouble, but otherwise nothing."

"What happened?"

"Punk tried to pickpocket me," Mick grumbles.

Amaya's eyes widen and she looks at Ray. "Where is he now?"

Mick answers. "Ambulance."

"Yeahhhhh," Ray looks apologetic. "To be fair, he was asking for it. He had taken a lot of peoples wallets and cash."

"How bad?" Amaya frowns at Mick.

He shrugs. "Broke both his hands. Won't be able to steal for a while."

"I find this extremely hypocritical of you."

Mick shifts his glare at her. Amaya raises her chin. For a brief moment there is an air of challenge between them that thickens with every second. Caitlin swallows and looks to Ray, who offers her a half hearted smile and a shrug, as if to say Get used to this.

Finally, Amaya breaks from the staring competition and lets out a sigh. "Fine. You got revenge on a teenager who tried to rob you. Have you seen Nathaniel?"

"Pretty went backstage," Mick returns to watching the crowd.

Caitlin glances at the dancers. "What are you looking for?"

"Signs."

"Of what?"

"Anything out of ordinary," Ray helpfully supplies. "People acting more different than usual, a figure that stands out, maybe a suspicious group or gang."

"Waste of time," Mick grumbles.

Amaya nods her head. "If something were to happen, it would have happened by now. Caitlin needs to get back to Gideon. I'll make my way to backstage and meet Nathaniel." She looks at Mick. "I'm sure we could use your help."

He grunts his agreement.

"I can fly the neighborhood," Ray taps the jacket pocket where his Atom suit hides. "See if there's anything worth noting nearby."

Minutes later, Mick and Amaya are backstage of the Juan Atkins concert. Nate is no where to be seen. Frowning, Amaya breaks away from him, announcing that she's going to investigate the offices above. Mick waits, bored and wishing he'd left already.

He should've gone with Snow. Maybe try to explain about earlier. She wasn't useless. Killer Frost was the fighter, but that didn't mean Caitlin couldn't learn. He didn't want her to depend on Frost, was all. Caitlin had to realize her own potential outside of the lab.

That's it. That's what he'll say.

A thump from behind has him whirling around, hand going to his heat gun on his side. Every inch of backstage is flushed with dark shadows and random neon lighting that blink and sway in time with the beat of the disc jockey. A curtain to his right moves and suddenly there's a black clad body running at him, a dagger barely visible.

Mick dodges to the side, avoiding a swipe at his face. He cocks his fist and quickly jabs it into his opponents gut. A grunt and a stagger and the other man is righting himself and coming again, slashing wildly. Mick is able to keep out of reach, calling on the muscle memory of his past in prison; knife fights were nothing new to him.

When the other misses again, Mick smirks. "You're makin' me yawn over here."

When three more, dressed from head to toe in black, step out from the curtains, he braces himself. "Alright," he grabs his heat gun. "Come get it."

When he's stabbed in the abdomen, he swears and thinks himself a fool for not assuming there would be more of these fuckers behind him.

Caitlin enters the Waverider fully intent on grabbing a quick bite to eat and retreating to the Medbay where she and Gideon can continue their ongoing search for the Legends future murderers.

"Good evening Doctor Snow," Gideon's chipper greeting meets Caitlin upon her entry. "I assume the concert was everything advertised?"

Crossing through the control room and heading down the hall towards the kitchen, Caitlin rolls her eyes. "I honestly don't understand who would pay to listen to techno." Eyeing the refrigerator, she quickly opens the door and grabs the leftover enchilada she'd had saved from the night before.

"Shall I assume you are in need of a dosage of Prozac?"

"No," Caitlin pops her dinner in the microwave and leans against the counter as it heats. "I don't mind loud music or crowds. I just can't stomach that senseless noise they're trying to call music."

"You don't sound stuck up or anything," Zari enters the kitchen, a smirk on her face.

Caitlin shrugs. "Maybe I am."

Zari sticks her head inside the fridge, looking for her own dinner. "Any luck tonight?"

"Not while I was there. I had to get back to Gideon. The others are still there."

"Get back to Gideon or get away from Mick?" The sarcasm is apparent in Zari's tone.

Fighting down the need to defend herself, Caitlin turns her back to the other woman and grabs her now hot dinner from the beeping microwave. "Why would I need to get away from Mick?"

"Well, for one thing, he was a complete ass hole to you during training the other day." Zari closes the refrigerator door, a styrofoam box of leftover french fries in hand.

Caitlin takes a bit of her food, she shrugs in response to Zari's raised brow. "I don't know what you want me to say. He was right. I can't rely on Killer Frost to fight all my battles. In an offensive, hurtful way, he was trying to give me a lesson."

"Huh." Zari eyes her with a glint of suspicion. "We'll get used to it. Being a legend isn't easy."

Caitlin raises her chin. "Neither is being a meta." She exits the kitchen, taking her enchilada with her.

Mick stumbles up the loading ramp of the Waverider, clutching his side where the blood seeps out. He growls as he pushes forward, each step a jolt of sharp pain through him. He's been stabbed before; this is nothing new. Still hurts like a bitch, though.

He leans against a wall, trying to keep himself up right to get inside.

"Gideon!" He grunts through clenched teeth. "Where she at?"

The AI answers promptly. "Dr. Snow is just down the hall, Mr. Rory."

He barely makes it two steps before his vision swirls and he feels lightheaded. "Snow!" He bellows.

She comes around the corner, brows pulled together in a frown. She's still angry about earlier. But when she sees him, she gasps and sprints, catching him before he sinks to the floor. "What happened?!"

"Ambushed," he grinds out. "Got me backstage."

"And you walked all the way back here?!" She slings a meaty arm around her shoulders and he groans. "Shift your weight to me," she firmly commands.

Mick's head has dropped and he sways uneasily on his feet. "Don't wanna…crush yah…"

Caitlin frowns. "Stop that, you're bleeding all over the ship. Come on." Between the two of them, they manage to get Mick to the Medbay, he's barely holding on to consciousness. "Lie down," Caitlin helps him to a bed and immediately begins snapping orders at Gideon. In no time, the AI is giving a full assessment of damage and monitoring Mick's vitals.

Caitlin sterilizes her hands and begins collecting equipment to stitch up his wound. "Any organ damage?" She calmly asks Gideon.

"There is a puncture wound to the liver, Dr. Snow. And Mr. Rory has lost a significant amount of blood."

That much was obvious, his clothes were drenched. It was a marvel that he'd made it back to the Waverider at all.

"You are the most stubborn man I have ever met," Caitlin mutters.

Mick's lips twitch as if he were about to smile. "Sorry."

Caitlin smirks. "If you weren't, you'd probably be bleeding out in a back alley somewhere." She looks up to catch his eye. She smiles at him. "I have to put you to sleep for a little while."

He nods and closes his eyes. She prepares to administer numbing medication and anesthesia. Minutes after the IV drips, he's out cold. With the help of Gideon, Caitlin begins the simple surgery.

Thankfully she's able to clamp the hepatoduodenal ligament with a haemostat, stopping the flow of blood. The rest of the procedure goes smoothly and Gideon administers pain medication to keep Mick comfortable while he sleeps.

"You were wonderful, Gideon. Thank you." Cailtin pulls off her bloody surgical gloves and turns on the faucet to wash her hands.

"It was my pleasure, Dr. Snow." If able to, Caitlin is sure the AI would be smiling at the compliment.

An hour later, after the anesthesia IV has been removed, Mick groans through the struggle of waking back up. Caitlin is typing on a computer next to his bed and glances over. "Don't move around too much. Your stitches will rip."

When their eyes meet, there's a flicker of sadness; of regret that maybe they are friends and they'd let their pride inflate and blind them. That tonight could have gone much, much worse if Mick hadn't practically crawled back to the Waverider. That a stupid argument got in their way, and screaming insults at each other would be the last words ever said.

"Snow," Mick croaks. He swallows - fuck even that hurts. "I, uh…" She watches him, still as stone. He holds her gaze. He can't say it, not like she deserves. But he can at least attempt to apologize. "Well. Yah know."

A beat passes. And then the softest of smiles graces her lips. "I know. Me too."

And he knows they're going to be okay.