Warning: Reference to sexual abuse and brief description of rape in the third scene. Viewer discretion advised

~

Deserey stormed into her room with a huff. She would have slammed the door behind her if it hadn’t been a sliding bulkhead. On her nightstand she spotted her sketch book, but she didn’t think she was in the mood for art. Her irritation would just make the hobby frustrating and unbearable.

“Sandy.” Even if she hadn’t recognized his gruff voice, Dez would have known it was Mick. He was the only one who used that stupid nickname.

She turned, a strand of hair flinging around in her face. “What?” she said, a little harsher than she’d intended. “Your turn to babysit?” Angrily, Dez yanked the curl out of her face, hissing in annoyance when it fell back in her eyes a moment later.

Mick didn’t answer her question. He just folded his arms over his chest, glaring at her like she was his worst enemy. There was a fire in his eyes, burning with rage. (Cheesy way to describe it, yes, but an accurate one.) It was like looking into the depths of Hell itself, flames flickering violently, darkness swallowing her whole, drowning her and snuffing out what little will to live she had. For a moment, Deserey stopped struggling with her hair, a shudder running down her spine.

Over the last few days, traveling with him and the others on the time ship, she had somehow forgotten both he and Snart were heartless criminals who had no issues with killing people for the fun of it. She’d forgotten all the news reports – as small of an amount as it was – she’d seen, how violent and utterly psychotic Heatwave could be. And maybe, for one small second, she feared for her life. Because it really did look like he might try to strangle her.

Instead, he said, “Lose the attitude with Snart.”

Deserey quickly looked away from him, her heart thumping in her chest. That was all he wanted? To lecture her about her goddamn attitude? Seriously?! She pushed her hair out of her face again, trying not to focus on how frightening he was and instead on the curl and how annoying her hair was, (seriously why was it being such a pain in the fucking ass today?) and hoping he hadn’t seen the panic in her eyes.

“Fuck off,” she told him, which was probably the wrong thing to say. His glare intensified. Dez tried to resist the urge to flinch, but she thought she had failed miserably at that. (She couldn’t really remember. Maybe not.)

Mick took a step closer, his glare not easing up one bit, and suddenly, like a car's gear shift abruptly being switched, Deserey flashed back to her time as a street kid.

She remembered this one time in particular. The day had marked the first of three years that Dez would have lived as a street rat. This guy had jumped her in an alley. She’d been looking for scraps to build an art piece, but in the process she had found a watch made of solid gold. She had thought that maybe she could have sold it, gotten some money and moved out of that hell hole of a town she’d been in. But the guy had appeared from no where. (He’d probably been up on one of the fire escape platforms and jumped down when he spotted her.)

He’d been about the same size and height Mick was. She’d been able to defend herself, then – despite being several inches shorter than the guy and no where near his size – by squaring up to the punk and showing off her own mean glare. (She didn’t save the watch, though.) But back then she had also had a lot more ferocity.

Dez really doubted she’d be able to hold her own against someone of Mick’s stature again. (Maybe if she threw some sand in his eyes first…) The first time had just been pure luck anyway, and even then she had still been badly beaten up. Still, she found herself antagonizing him with a glare anyway. (It wasn’t as intimidating as she would have liked, though, because that dumb strand of hair kept falling in her eyes, and she had to keep pushing it back.)

“I said drop the attitude,” Mick growled.

“Make me,” Dez hissed. She could tell her stubbornness was pissing him off, and he might have even been a little tempted to fry her with his heat gun, only she’d noticed he didn’t bring it with him to her room. (She guessed he knew he’d be too tempted to use it on her with the bitchy attitude she had.)

“You think I won’t?” Mick's glare only grew more intense, as his hands balled into fists, a clear sign Dez should have probably just shut up. She didn’t.

“What are you gonna do about it? Hit me?” Deserey rolled her eyes, like she wasn’t remotely afraid of that prospect. She aggressively shoved the strand out of her way as it fell in her eyes once more. Her heart was pounding like an angry beast, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the fear or irritation.

Mick didn’t say anything to that, though she could tell from the look on his face that he was pretty tempted to do that too. “Knock it off with the attitude,” he repeated. “Don’t care if you’re a bitch to everyone else, but don’t even think about it with Leonard.”

“What, so he got offended that I called him out about that whore and sent his body guard?” Dez scoffed. “Fuck you. Both of you.” The strand of hair fell in her face again. Dez yanked it out of her face so hard it hurt her scalp a bit.

“Leonard didn’t send me,” Mick huffed. He seemed kind of offended by the insinuation. “I can think for myself! I’m not just sitting around waiting for him to tell me what to do!”

Deserey rolled her eyes again. “Whatever. I don’t give a shit. Get the hell out of my room.” She put her hand on his chest, and she was surprised he let her shove him into the hall way. The curl fell in her eyes one last time before she completely lost it.

Dez screamed at the top of her lungs, even startling Mick. She grabbed the strand of hair, clutching it in her fist. “I am just gonna cut my fucking hair off! God damn it!” She stormed back into her room, violently rummaging through her dresser, searching for scissors, only to growl in annoyance when she found none.

“We took all the sharp objects, dumb ass,” Mick hissed from the doorway, still glaring at her.

She whirled around, glaring right back. “Piss off!” Dez stomped over, her hand raised to slam the door in his face before she remembered they didn’t swing. She let out another growl of annoyance and bellowed down the hallway, hoping her voice would carry to the bridge, “God damn it, Rip, why the fuck can I not slam these mother fucking doors!”

She turned to the ceiling. “Gideon! Slam the door in his face!” But Mick stormed off before she got the satisfaction of seeing the door close on him, which sort of pissed her off even more.

{~}

The next day, Mick was in the galley, when Haircut started acting awkward as hell. He was sitting at the table eating a plate of gluten free pancakes. (Mick only figured that out after he had tried to steal them from the little nerd and realized they tasted disgusting.) 

Once Mick was sitting across from him, beer in one hand, fork in the other, the scientist seemed to grow fidgety. Mick glanced up at him, figuring he was probably just worried he was going to pick pocket him. People were like that whenever he was around.

Either that or they were afraid he’d burn them to a crisp. It was usually one or the other, but if Mick were being completely honest, he was far too lazy to do any of that at the moment. Besides, what could Haircut possibly have that Mick would even remotely be interested in? He probably just filled his pockets with a bunch of boring nerd junk.

“What?” Mick growled, as he began chowing down on his own breakfast.

“Uh, well,” Ray said, stumbling over his words. Hesitantly, he scooted his chair closer, an awkward grin on his face. Mick watched him suspiciously. “I – Well, I over heard you and Dez arguing last night,” he went on. Mick wanted to point out that he and Dez had been shouting so the whole ship had probably ‘overheard’ them arguing, but he didn't really get the chance since Haircut kept rambling onward.

“So, I thought maybe I could help you work it out,” Ray said. “You know, in a less hostile way.” He kept looking at Mick with that stupid grin of his face, and the arsonist rolled his eyes.

“We don’t need couples' therapy, Haircut.”

Ray frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Mick figured something about the phrase had bothered him, which was made evident by his next words. “That’s…an odd way of putting it…” Ray shrugged, grinning again. “But it’s not really like that. It’s just talking about things…calmer.”

Mick stared at him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told he needed to be calmer. In fact, even Leonard had told him that on more than one occasion. At this point the phrase had lost all its value with him. “That’s never gonna happen,” Mick told him bluntly. To someone like Haircut it probably seemed like an act of defiance, but it really wasn’t. It was just a fact.

“Oh,” Ray said. “Okay.” He sat there for a moment, fidgeting nervously. Mick tried to ignore him, as he turned back to his food. But he was kind of distracting. “…Something else you want to say?” Mick asked, a bit annoyed.

Ray jumped, like he had somehow forgotten Mick was in the room. (Mick sort of found that amusing.) He started wringing his hands, opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish. “Uh,” Ray finally managed after several moments of nervous twitching. “Well…”

He opened his mouth to say something, but before whatever it was could come out Deserey and Kendra walked in to the room, and he changed course. “Oh, speak of the devil!” Ray grinned at Dez, jumping up. The greeting was followed by a string of rambling nonsense. “Not that you’re a devil or that I think you look devilish. It’s just that we were just talking about you and –”

Deserey walked over and grabbed his shoulders. “Ray, hun,” she said seriously. “Air. Breathe it.”

He nodded slowly. “Right,” he said. “Yeah…Uh, I’m gonna go find Rip and see if we’re in Russia yet.” He started towards the door, before apparently remembering his dirty dishes and turning back around. When he fumbled them twice, Dez took the dishes from him.

“I’ll get it,” she told him, and he nodded and left promptly. Kendra frowned, as she ordered a strawberry smoothie to sip on. She leaned on the counter, as she stuck the straw in her mouth. “That was kind of weird.”

Deserey shrugged, as she placed the plate and silverware in the dish washer. “Seems normal to me.”

Mick ignored them both, as he finished eating himself. He stood up to leave when Deserey stopped him. “Hey, pick up your dishes!” she ordered. “I’m not your mother, I’m not doing them for you, too!”

Mick glared at her, and Kendra watched the two of them, like she was afraid they’d start shouting again. But Mick didn’t really feel like arguing, so he put the dishes in the washer and stalked out. Unfortunately, the space in the back of the galley was a bit small, and he brushed up against the hawk chick on his way out. That wouldn’t have been a big deal, and he might have even flirted a bit if she were someone else. But when they made contact, Kendra completely lost her shit.

She dropped her smoothie, glass shattering and drink splattering all over the floor. Kendra screamed and fell over, breathing heavily, like she thought Mick was going to do something perverted. (Which he found a bit offensive. He was a criminal sure, but he wasn’t that kind of criminal.) 

Deserey shared a look with Mick, and he shrugged. “I didn’t do anything,” he defended. Dez frowned and nodded, making an odd expression, as she looked at the hawk goddess. Kendra was looking back at them with wide eyes, her hands clutching at her heart. For a moment her eyes flashed red, and her nails grew into talons. “I know,” Dez said quietly. “Uh…Why don’t you go find Ray? I’ll figure out what’s wrong.”

From the tone in her voice, Mick guessed she already had an idea about what was happening to Kendra and just didn’t want to fill him in. He scoffed. “Fine, but when she goes all insane chicken lady, don’t blame me if she kills you.”

And then he left. Neither mentioned their shouting march from the night before. Neither apologized for it either. Those could have been the last words they’d ever said to one another, and neither would have particularly cared.

Mick found Leonard in the hall outside his room, leaning on the wall like he’d been waiting for him. (And from the impatient look he gave him when he arrived, he guessed he probably had been for some time.)

“We’re five hours from Russia,” Leonard said, which was as close to hello Mick would get. “With this team it’ll take at least an hour to decide on a plan once we get there, so that gives us six to do what we need to do.”

Mick looked at him, because he hadn’t told him about any devious schemes. (Though, Mick was kind of use to that by now, too. Len was kind of greedy when it came to his thoughts and reasonings.) “What do we gotta do?”

“…Let's call it heist,” Leonard said, and he had an odd look that Mick couldn’t quite place.

“For?”

Leonard didn’t respond, which Mick thought was a bit strange. Normally, he’d at least tell him what they were stealing. Then, there was the fact that his eyes had done that thing where they’d get a little dangerous looking, like that glacier that brought down the Titanic. It was something that really only happened when he thought he had to defend himself, when they had a bit too much heat on them after a job. A thing that only happened when something was seriously pissing him off and he was trying to stay calm.

Mick had seen that look a lot over the years. Usually it was directed at him, because he tended to lose it a lot; and Leonard  didn’t approve of that, of course. Other times it was directed at random idiots Mick never got the names' of. (They usually ended up dead anyway.) But occasionally, whenever he had the nerve to even show his face, the look was directed at his father. Those were the moments when that look really scared Mick.

Because Leonard never really knew how to act around his old man. Depending on the day Len was having there was a fifty-fifty chance he’d cave and do whatever his father, Lewis, wanted. (Eighty-fifty in favor of the bastard of a father if Lewis did something stupid like threaten Lisa.) Though, Mick knew it couldn’t be his father that was bothering him now. For one thing they were time traveling and Lewis would have no way of contacting him. For another, Leonard had killed his old man a few months back.

“We only have about ten minutes, before Rip and Jax figure out I took the key to the jump ship, Mick,” Leonard said impatiently, narrowly avoiding the topic. “We need to hurry if we don’t want to get caught. Are you in or out?”

“In,” Mick said, partly because he wanted to steal something and partly because he didn’t really like that look in his partner's eyes. He’d be able to keep an eye on him if he went with him. 

“Get your gun,” Len told him. Mick didn’t take long to find it, only a second or two. Then, the duo went on their way to the jump ship.

{~}

After Mick left the galley, Deserey kneeled in front of Kendra, eyeing her worriedly. The hawk goddess’s eyes were still beat red, and her talons were still out.

“Hey…” Deserey said quietly, using the same voice she used whenever one of her kids had a nightmare. “It’s okay. You can put the claws away now…” She held her hand out, but she refrained from touching her. Panic attacks were different for everyone. Some people needed you to hold them tightly, while others grew sharp talons and turned homicidal. Deserey doubted she’d want to be touched right now.

“Just look at me,” Deserey said softly. “It’s safe.” Slowly, Kendra came around. She blinked, as her eyes went back to normal and her talons shrank back to finger nails; she smiled sheepishly. “Sorry…”

Deserey nodded curtly. There was an overwhelming desire to ask her if she was alright, but she knew that was a stupid question. Obviously the answer was no. So, she didn’t say anything.

Kendra sat against the wall, staring into blank space. She didn’t move, not even to blink. Her expression was full of melancholy, but she wasn’t crying. It was as if her entire body had just been completely shut down, and now she was doomed to sit in this position for the rest of her days. Deserey frowned and moved to sit next to her. She still didn’t say anything, though; she knew from experience that sometimes words didn’t need to be spoken. Sometimes, just showing up was all that counted. Kendra shuddered, but she didn’t meet the other woman's eyes.

“He was my son,” she said quietly, and Deserey guessed she was probably talking about Professor Boardman. “But I can’t even remember him.” Slowly, she glanced up, her eyes void of all emotions. “I can’t remember anything. His first words. His first steps…” She shook her head, looking down at her hands. “I don’t even remember carrying him. The happiest memories a mother can have is the memories with her children. Holding them, loving them…But I don’t. I don’t remember anything. I’ve lived lifetimes. Lifetimes, Dez. But I only remember one thing from each of them…I remember being afraid. I’m always afraid…”

“Is that why you flipped out on Mick just now?” Deserey asked, but she knew that wasn’t quite it.

Kendra shrugged. “Partly, but not the whole reason…” She looked at Deserey, and she nodded, hoping to prompt her to continue. “It’s about…” She faltered, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Take your time,” Deserey said. She wasn’t a therapist by any means, and she had only ever met one person – that being her old college friend Lucy – who had any sort of traumatic experience under her belt. But she figured it probably wouldn’t be a very good idea to push Kendra too much. She’d need time to process and figure herself out.

Kendra pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging them with her arms and placing her head on her knees. “It’s about…S-Savage…” She stumbled on his name slightly, like just saying it would someone summon him on to the Waverider and allow him to kill everyone onboard. “…He raped me.”

Deserey's heart stopped for a moment. “I thought we stopped him…”

Kendra shook her head, her eyes getting a little glassy. “Not in the fifties. Before…in a past life. Maybe multiple lives. I don’t…I don’t know. It’s just that since the fifties all these repressed memories started popping up and…and…” Tears started spilling over, and her body began shaking. “I…I think there was even one lifetime. He…he kidnapped me and chained me to the bed in the basement…It happened every night, before he eventually just killed me,” She shook her head, staring at the floor, not bothering to wipe the tears away. “Just now when Mick touched me it sent me back to…that place. I mean, I know he probably didn’t mean it but…” She shrugged helplessly, still trembling. “And the same with that guy at the Pentagon. I…I just…”

“Hey…” Deserey said, her voice so soft even she could hardly hear it. She reached out to Kendra, before hesitating. “Can I..?” When the hawk warrior nodded, she gently wrapped her arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug. She had read somewhere once that hugs were a nearly full proof way to calm someone down. “Your hawk thingie is just a defense mechanism. You’ve been through something terrible, it’s only natural that you want to protect yourself. The Pentagon guy will heal up, and I’m pretty sure Mick will just get over it.”

“I guess so…” Kendra nodded slowly. Her hair sort of got in Deserey's face as she did so, since they were still hugging, but she didn’t really mind. “But I keep thinking about Aldus…”

“What about him?” Deserey asked.

“What if he’s not Carter's?” Kendra asked slowly. “What if he’s…What if he’s…”

Deserey pushed Kendra up gently so that she could look her in the eyes. “Kendra,” she said seriously, “your son was not a rape baby.”

“How would you know?” Kendra frowned.

“Monsters can’t have children,” Deserey reasoned. “Savage is a monster if I ever saw one. So, in the words of Jerry Springer, he is not the father.”

Kendra let out a small laugh. “Your logic seems pretty flawed but okay.”

“Got you to laugh at least,” Deserey shrugged. “Now come on. Let’s go find our third wife.” She stood up, holding out her hand for Kendra. She took it, and together the two went off in search of Sara.

Annnd done. So, you’ll notice I’m taking my time with getting them all to Russia. Sorry about that. I just have some filler stuff I wanna get through before going into that, and I can’t fit all of it into one chapter. Hopefully you’re enjoying the added scenes and the slower pace, though.

Also, while my current semester of college is quickly coming to an end (only two more weeks! Eek!) and I’m not doing too hot at the moment, I’ve decided to take a semester or two off and have another go out my original novels. Because of that, I’m probably going to be even slower at fanfic updates. But I will update! Promise! I’ll try to keep the waiting pool around two or three weeks, no longer. I hope that’s not too inconvenient for y’all. Thanks for understanding