The four people stood at the center of the galley, silently staring down at the patch of sand that now lay in the middle of the room. 
Jax glanced around at the other three occupants in the room. “Alright, I’ll say it. What are we gonna do about this?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Stein said quickly, like it should have been obvious. When the others glanced at him, each with a frown, and he saw that it was not, in fact, obvious, he explained further. “We weren’t meant to see what we saw. I believe that the most humane thing we can do is to pretend we didn’t.”

Deserey nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath. “Right,” she muttered. “Humane…Got it.” Rip and Jax nodded in agreement as well, just as Gideon’s voice rang out overhead.

“Sir, Mr. Rory and Mr. Snart have returned to the Waverider,” the AI informed.

“Uh, yes,” Rip said awkwardly. “Thank you, Gideon.”

Deserey waved her hand, commanding the sand back into the bag on her hip. Once every last spec had been removed from the floor, she closed her bag, steeling herself. Honestly, she had never been a very good actor, so she was sure she’d eventually crack and spill everything to Leonard. But she was willing to try, at the very least, to pretend she hadn’t seen anything in order to spare him from the embarrassment.

“So,” she said slowly, adjusting the bag on her hip. “Can we just time jump the rest of the way to Russia, now? I think that’s enough cooling off, don’t you?”

Rip pointed at her, as if to silently say, excellent point. He glanced at the ceiling. “Gideon.”

The ship lurched, sending all four occupants of the galley tumbling to the floor in a tangled heap. Deserey sat up, rubbing her head where she had hit it against the floor. Rip groaned as he got to his feet, looking a bit agitated. “I meant once we got to the bridge and strapped in…” he sighed.

“Yup, you were right,” Jax grumbled, clambering to his feet. “Definitely not something you wanna stand up for…”

“Not that I mind getting swept off my feet by a lovely lady,” Deserey said, as she and Stein got to their feet as well. “Robotic or otherwise.”

“Well, I suppose we had better go meet the others on the bridge,” Stein said, looking ready for business. The other three nodded and followed him out of the room. Unfortunately, the awkwardness concerning Leonard Snart was not over yet.

As soon as they entered the bridge, Deserey heard the thief's voice. “—I asked for the new time line, Gideon,” he was saying. He sounded rather pissy too, like whatever he was looking at was fairly irritating, and Deserey felt guilty at the fact that she already had a pretty good idea of what he was looking at.

“This is the new time line,” Gideon said calmly, like she were explaining something complicated to a child. “Two days from when you left him, your father will be arrested trying to sell the Maximilian Emerald to an under cover police officer.”

“Stupid son of bitch,” Leonard hissed under his breath. Deserey wasn’t sure whether he was talking about his father or himself. Either way it was quite alarming…

She shared a look with the three she was walking with, as they each gathered around the console at the center of the room. A silent message passed through the group: remember, pretend you don’t know.

Leonard was standing at the front of the room, glaring at the monitor on the wall, his arms folded in front of him so that his elbow was resting in the palm of one hand and chin in the palm of the other. He was alone, so Deserey guessed that he must have ditched Mick somewhere before coming here.

“He'll be sentenced to five years in Iron Heights,” Gideon told Leonard. “Despite your intervention, his future remains unchanged.”

Leonard turned away from the screen, spotting the group of four. For a second he looked shocked to see them, and then he was staring at them with the most intense look Dez had ever seen, like he was silently demanding to know how much they had over heard.

“Uh, what was that about?” Jax asked, and Deserey had to hand it to him. He was pretty good at playing dumb, especially when Leonard turned his piercing gaze directly on him. Evidently, Len had decided he wasn’t too suspicious, because after a moment he relaxed. Deserey looked down at the floor, biting her lip, her gut threatening to strangle her. It was bad enough that she and the others had spied on him but here they were lying to his face, too. Of course the latter was to spare him…but still.

“…Nothing,” Len said.

“Didn’t really seem like nothing,” Deserey said, the words tasting like acid in her mouth.

Len rolled his eyes, but Dez didn’t think it was directed at her. (Surprisingly.) “My dad was never father of the year, but at least he never raised a hand to any of us,” he said bitterly.

“Until he went to prison,” Jax guessed. Leonard stayed quiet for a moment, not really meeting the younger man’s eyes. Deserey glanced at Rip and the two halves of Firestorm, pursing her lips. The men shifted uncomfortably. Then, rather abruptly, Leonard's eyes were flickering back and forth between Deserey and Rip. Dez was startled by the sharpness embedded in them; she thought that they would have cut her if they’d been a knife.

He watched them, almost suspiciously, and he started to say, “Would you –”

There was a mutual understanding that passed between the two resident parents of the team, in which they each knew, somehow, what Leonard was going to ask before even he did; so, when the words began leaving his mouth, the two parents cut him off, speaking over one another with their responses.

“I couldn’t,” Deserey said. “Ever.”

Rip said, “I'd never. I couldn’t.”

Leonard continued to watch them with that look of suspicion in his eyes, as if thinking they were lying. But after a short moment of reflection, something in his expression changed, and Deserey guessed he must have decided they were telling the truth. His expression was softer, closer to how he’d looked back at his childhood home. (Though maybe not quite as bad.) Maybe he was wondering what made his father different from them or why he’d drawn the short straw when it came to parents.

In any case, the look was gone as quick as it had came. Leonard swiftly turned to the center console, his eyes forming that ice wall again. “Anyway, Gideon said we were in Russia? What happened to the four hours?”

Rip looked startled for a second, and Deserey realized they hadn’t come up with a lie. (They hadn’t been expecting to be questioned on the matter.) “Chronos?” Rip said, but he didn’t sound very convincing.

Leonard raised an eyebrow, probably about to call him out on it, but Jax jumped in to save the captain. “Yeah, he came at us with his lasers and grenades on his ship, so we had to move.”  It might have been a decent lie – Jax was pretty good at selling it, too – except Leonard clearly wasn’t buying any of it.

“I thought you said we couldn’t be tracked in the temporal zone,” Leonard questioned Rip. “That's why we hide there, isn’t it?” He was very clever and good at spotting bullshit, and Deserey was mildly annoyed by that.

“Uh, well, you see,” the professor jumped in. “We left the temporal zone.” Even without the stuttering or nervous twitching it wouldn’t have been very helpful. There was no logical sense behind it, like he hadn’t really thought it through before he’d said it. (Which was very ironic, considering he was one of the two geniuses they had on board.)

“Why?” Leonard asked. The boys shifted uncomfortably, none being able to come up with some clever lie to trick the master of trickery. Guess it’s my turn, Deserey thought.

She sighed, hoping it was believable. “Oh fine,” she said. “I’ll just tell him.” The boys gave her a panicked look, and she guessed they must have thought she was about to tell Leonard the actual truth. Deserey rolled her eyes, muttering, “Oh, you babies.” Then, back to Leonard. “The truth is I’m on my period, and I wanted to get chocolate, because it helps with cramps and mood swings.”

It was a blatant lie. She had, in fact, never had a period in her entire life. Dez only knew chocolate helped, because some of her old friends had told her as much. She also knew that they’d often used it as a “get away free card” from time to time.

Leonard still didn’t look convinced. “Gideon can fabricate chocolate,” he pointed out.

“I like it from a very specific time and place,” Deserey said.

He rolled his eyes. She wasn’t sure if he actually believed it or if he was just too tired of arguing, but either way he let it go. “What’s in the file?”

Deserey turned to see Stein had stepped in to the little office next to the bridge and gotten the Pentagon file, like he was eager to change the topic. The professor set the file on the console, opening it up, as Ray, Mick, and Carter entered the room. “It appears our friend has been quite busy since we last saw him.”

Everyone leaned in, taking glances at the file. Rip frowned at the big word printed in black ink at the center of the page. It looked like someone had just smashed their fingers on the keyboard and printed it out to Dez, but somehow Rip managed to pronounce a word from it. “Svarog?”

“The god of fire in Slavic mythology,” Stein explained. “Though in this case it’s a secret project the Soviets are working on.” He turned the page, revealing a woman's photo. (She was really pretty, too: long brown hair, flawless pale skin, red lipstick and foundation enhancing her beauty ten fold.) “Considering Savage's involvement, most likely some sort of weapon.” 

Ray picked up the file, reading the woman’s information below her picture. “Valentina Vostok. Graduated top of her physics program and then just dropped out of academia.”

“To help develop Savage's weapon, no doubt,” Stein said.

“The Cold War's up for grabs,” Ray said, “and Miss Vostok is the linchpin.” Rip took the file from Ray, taking a look for himself, and Deserey read over his shoulder. The woman – Vostok apparently – was very impressive. She was the top of her class, as Ray had said. And she had already invented some pretty nifty things, some of which Deserey had never seen anything like before. She guessed that Vostok had never gotten the credit she deserved – the eighties wasn’t exactly the most accepting of time periods. ( Deserey would know. She grew up in them.)

Maybe that’s how the scientist had ended up working for Savage. He’d promised her the recognition she deserved, probably with the intentions of welching on it when given the chance. (People like Savage never lived up to their promises, did they?)

Leonard shrugged indifferently, lazily placing himself in one of the seats. Deserey couldn’t tell if he was still agitated from before or if he just really didn’t give a crap about this one. “I say we put two in the back of her head and call it day,” Leonard said.

Ray scoffed, and Deserey knew what he was going to say a second before he even moved his mouth to form the words. “We have no idea who this woman is,” he reasoned, “or what her effect on history may be. She may be the next Madame Curie for all we know.”

Leonard rolled his eyes, not seeming even remotely interested. “She’s working for Savage,” he said, standing up again. “That’s all we need to know.”

“She probably has no idea who’s backing her research,” Ray said. “Just let me approach her as a scientist, and we’ll see what she knows about Savage's weapons program.”

Deserey grinned teasingly, laughing a bit as she leaned on the top of the console. “I love how you see a pretty lady, and you’re first instinct is to ask her about this psycho killer and science.”

Ray tilted his head to the side, obviously not understanding what she’d meant. “Well, yeah. She could be the key to stopping Savage. What are my instincts supposed to be?”

Dez gave him a one armed shrug. “To think ‘oh hey, she’s hot,’ maybe? I don’t know.”

Mick swiped the file from Rip, taking a glance at the scientist lady before tossing it back on the console. “She is hot,” he confirmed.

“She is,” Deserey agreed, taking the file for herself.

Ray rolled his eyes at the two of them. “Yeah,” he said, “okay. She’s pretty attractive, but there’s no need to objectify her.” Deserey stared at him, while all the other guys just looked bored. Ray frowned. “What?”

She stood up right, handing the file back to Rip as she shrugged again. “Nothing,” she said. “I just thought dudes like you were a work of fiction.”

Ray looked like he was about to ask more on the subject but before he could, Leonard interrupted and brought them back on track. “Anyway,  it’s 1986, you’re American, and you don’t speak Russian. She’ll have you pegged as a spy in a second.”

“Perhaps, I can help with that,” Rip said. He closed the file and walked to the parlour. Placing the file on the desk, he picked up a small, rectangular box, bringing it with him as he returned. Rip opened the box, scooting it across the console's table so that it ended up in front of Ray and Leonard.

“What are those?” Carter asked, speaking up for the first time since he’d entered the room. (Deserey had almost forgotten he was there.)

“Ingestible translators,” Rip said. “They attach to your larynx via neural interface. Swallow them; and you can speak and understand any language spoken to you.”

Deserey picked one of the translators. It sort of looked like a pill you got from the pharmacy, oval and dark green with a small capsule around it. She swallowed it just to see what it was like, and Leonard and Ray took one for themselves too.

Stein, Jax, and Carter watched the three of them with interest. ( Mick wasn’t really paying attention any more, sipping a beer he’d pulled out from his coat pocket.) “How do you turn it on?” Stein wondered.

“Gideon,” Rip said, glancing at the ceiling. “Switch them into Russian.” Deserey blanched, an odd feeling in her throat – sort of like drainage from a head cold. Ray made a face, grabbing at his own throat, but Leonard seemed virtually unaffected. When neither of the three who’d taken the translators spoke he prompted them with a short, “Well, go on. Say something.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Ray said. It sounded English to Dez, but from the confused expressions the others wore she guessed they must’ve been hearing something else.

Ray and Dez exchanged grins. “I'm speaking Russian now aren’t I?”

Leonard wasn’t nearly as amused. He leaned against the console’s table, rolling his eyes at Ray. “Now you’re annoying in multiple languages.”

“Hey, wait. Can we talk trash about them while they can’t understand us?” Dez joked, gesturing at the others in the room.

Rip gave her an apprehensive look. “Whatever it is you just said I don’t like it. So, Gideon, could you switch them back to English?”

The drainage sensation started up again, but this time Deserey was ready for it so it didn’t startle her as badly. “Hm,” she said, mostly just to see if everyone could understand her. “The last time I took a green pill from a guy in a trench coat I also took a trip, but it was nothing like this.”

Everyone stared at her, a look of complete horror on their faces. She’d meant it as a joke, even though the events were true, but no one was laughing. Even Mick stopped drinking long enough to flash her a disquiet expression. Dez frowned and said, “What?”

Rip shook his head slowly, before quickly moving on. She didn’t really understand what she had done to warrant such strange behavior, (and she sort of felt stupid for it) but she let it go for the time being. Maybe she’d ask them about it later. “…According to Vostok’s file,” Rip said, “she's a big fan of the ballet. She has box seats at the Bolshoi and attends every performance.”

There was a Pretty Woman reference in the back of her mind, a quote about the theater from the character Edward, but Deserey figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring it up. After her last joke hadn’t landed she didn’t want to risk making another bad one.

“It seems the final performance of Le Roi Candeule is today,” Gideon informed the group.

Rip turned to Ray, “Dr. Palmer, you will engage Vostok at the ballet, whilst you…” He turned, gesturing at Leonard and Carter. “Mr. Snart, Mr. Hall… you’ll be his wing men.”

“Oy,” Leonard said. Deserey wasn’t sure if he was making fun of Rip’s accident or if he was complaining.
Carter just nodded silently. He seemed a bit off, Deserey thought. Awfully quiet…

“Better go bone up on Vostok's CV,” Ray grinned, apparently not noticing anything wrong with either of his wing men. He walked off to commence his research.

“I guess we’ll bone up on the ballet,” Leonard said, walking over to Carter. “Gideon, bone us!”

“That…sounds so wrong, dudes,” Jax said. He scrunched up his face, but no one acknowledged his comment. Leonard and Carter followed Ray out of the bridge, and soon the two halves of Firestorm had trickled out as well, leaving Rip, Deserey, and Mick alone. 

They sat in silence, but it only lasted a second before Gideon’s voice sounded around the room once again. “Temporal anomaly detected.” She pulled up a map on the console's screen, a red dot showing where the anomaly was occurring.

“Chronos,” Rip guessed. Looked like they’d be dealing the Hunter today after all…

“It appears his ship was damaged by the USSR's jets,” Gideon said.

Rip frowned. “Is he still alive?”

“He went down just outside Moscow City limits,” Gideon told him, which didn’t seem like much of an answer to the question to Dez.

Rip glanced at Mick and Dez, reaching for the small revolver he had tucked under his coat. “Mr. Rory, Miss Dunet, how would you like to accompany me on a little mission?”

Dez tapped her bag of sand, making sure it was full. “Sounds exciting,” she said.

Mick stood up, raising the heat gun in the air. Deserey heard the thing charging up, so at first she thought he was about to shoot it, but instead, he asked, “Will I get to use my gun?”

“A near-certain likelihood,” Rip told him.

Mick nodded curtly. “Lead the way, Captain.”

I'm not really sure what to say for this AN. I've been having a hard time in my personal life, so I've been distracting myself with fanfic instead of focusing on my original content and schooling like I should/wanted to.

But hey! Y'all get more updates! There's always a silver lining 😉

I hope ya enjoyed this chapter. Let me know your thoughts in the comments!