Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow
Character/Pairing: Snart/Mick, hints of Snart/Sara
Challenge/Prompt: prompt_in_a_box: Frost
Warning(s): Spoilers for Season 1
Word Count: 1,527
Date Written: 23 October 2016
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to DC Comics, not the author, and are used without permission.
A thick frost covers the ground and crunches beneath his boots as they descend together into yet another new time. Rip had something to say about why they were coming to this particular time, but Mick wasn't listening to him. The Time Master had very little to say that interested him enough to actually listen to him. He smirks as he considers the pleas he would like to hear come tumbling from his lips.
And yet his partner put his trust into him. Well, maybe not his trust. Snart had become too much of a do-gooder there at the end, but the man was never stupid. Naive perhaps, but not stupid. He couldn't really blame him, though. After all, he'd listened to Hunter and Hair Cut and been willing to sacrifice himself before Snart had caught up to him.
He'd like to think his only real friend hadn't sacrificed himself to save the world, but that's exactly what he had done. He hadn't done it to save Mick. Mick was only part of the world he'd saved. Perhaps a large part to Snart and Mick himself, but still only a part.
He should have seen it coming. He should have realized the kid had heroic potential inside of him. Perhaps he had and he just hadn't wanted to admit it. After all, he knew about Snart's part. He knew he'd taken the majority of his father's beatings as a child to keep the bastard away from his sister. He'd saved her, and then he'd saved her again when he'd saved the world.
He had done it for Mick, but he hadn't done it just for Mick. He'd never done anything just for Mick, or even just for himself unless you counted the semi-occasional robbery, and since Mick knew that, unlike himself, Snart always managed to tuck some money away, he knew even the robberies were not just for himself. Even as an adult, he'd thought about his sister and about keeping her safe.
Hadn't that been the very reason why, when he'd wanted revenge against Snart for leaving him behind, Mick had targeted his sister? He knew exactly how to get to his friend: his sister had always been his weak spot. He'd saved the world for Lisa more than any one else.
But he had kept Mick from sacrificing himself in order to save it. Maybe Mick wasn't the biggest reason why he'd saved the world, but he'd played a part in it. He had to. Otherwise, Len would have just let him die to save the world. His sister would still be safe -- the world would still be saved --, but in the end, he'd wanted to protect Mick, too.
Mick whirls away from the others as they continue walking, tears he'll never admit welling in his dark and angry eyes. He pulls his lighter out of his pocket and flips it open. He watches the flame flicker at first but quickly looks through it to the frost covering the ground. They'd went together so well, hot and cold building a perfect, sizzling passion between them, but he should have known it wouldn't last. Nothing good ever lasts long for him.
"I haven't seen you do that in a while."
The calm observation is spoken so quietly that none of the others hear the assassin, but Mick hears her plainly. He shrugs. He's never been one to talk about his feelings, and that isn't going to change today or ever. His thoughts, and his feelings, are his alone. The only person with whom he's ever thought of sharing them is long gone now.
She turns her back to the others, her long, white boots also crunching frost beneath her feet. Her breath blows out before her. She rubs her hands together as she stands beside him. Snow is beginning to drift down. Flakes catch in her long, blonde hair, making it seem to shimmer in the pale light. He can see why Len thought about having her join them, but he's never been the sharing kind. The only way he would have agreed to a threesome was if it had somehow kept Len alive, but Snart had been determined to give himself over for the greater good. No power either of them held, or that anybody else possessed for that matter, could have changed what had happened in the end.
"I think about him too, you know." He knows she does -- they all do --, but she doesn't think of him the way he does. She can't, because she didn't know how him like he did. She hadn't known them for all that long, but he and Mick . . . They had a history that went back years, and in these quiet moments, he feels every aching bit of those long and trying years made shorter and easier because of the only friendship he's ever really known.
She clears her throat, licks her lips that the cold wind is drying, and tries again. "I-I'm not really good at this type of thing," she admits, "but if you ever want to talk about him -- "
He shakes his head in only a slight movement. "Nope," he growls. "I just want to be alone."
She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Good," she says, but the damn girl doesn't leave. He decides to ignore her, his attention settling back on the small flame of his lighter and the frost he can still see just beyond it.
He wonders where they are and just how cold the Winters get here. The cold already seems to be seeping into his bones, but just as Len had preferred the cold, he's always preferred the heat. He has little use for cold weather other than snuggling after sex, and the only person with whom he's ever snuggled is dead. He doesn't even have a grave to visit. Len's body exploded along with that thing the Time Masters were using to control them all.
He flips his lighter closed and turns quickly, trying yet again to close off his painful memories. "I told you I wanted to be alone," he growls at the pesky girl, stomping away after the others.
The assassin shrugs. "I didn't say anything," she says, and she hadn't, but she also certainly had not left him alone -- any more than Len ever had when he was feeling the pull of the darkness.
"Let's go. The sooner we get on with this mission, the sooner we can bust some heads."
A grin chases across her cold lips. "Sounds like a plan to me," she acknowledges, "and then maybe we can go -- "
"Don't say it, girl," he warns.
"Why not?" she asks curiously. "Rip said he'd take you back to that time however many times you want to go." She secretly wishes he'd made her a similar offer for her sister. She still can't believe Laura's gone. Her whole being seems to ache at the mere thought of her sister's death.
"Because that's not Snart," he says simply. "Now mind your own damn business."
She nods and finally falls silent as they reach their team mates. She understands what he's saying. It is Snart in that bar, but evidently it was too long before they became friends for Mick to be able to derive any consolation from visiting him then. Snart had been a different man at that time, but the friend they had all lost had been a different man even from the one he was when Sara had first Leonard and Mick. The mission had changed them all, but perhaps none more so than Snart. She'll have to talk to Rip, Sara decides, see if perhaps he can take Mick to Snart at a later time.
But if Mick had known what Sara was thinking, he would have told her she was wrong. Len wasn't a different man. He had simply finally chosen to be the man he'd been all along. He had finally chosen to stop hiding in a world of violence and be the man he wanted to be, the man led by his heart, the man into whom the little boy who had sacrificed himself every night to save his sister had grown, the man whose heart had been the real reason Mick had been unable to turn a blind eye to him being beaten in jail and whose heart even now calls his friend to want to cry for him.
Mick wants to cry for him, but he won't. He won't shed a tear. Snart died to save him as much as he did to save the world, and if Len's believes are anything, Mick has to believe that one day, some way, he'll see him again. He turns his head quickly from his team mates, just in time so that none of them see the tears in his dark, dark eyes. Len died so that they can live, and Mick won't let his death be in vain. They'll live. He'll live, but he'll miss his friend every damn day of his life.