Chapter Text
Sara lingered on the edges of the chaos, content to watch her friends. The Cortex was filled with familiar faces and Christmas music just loud enough to hear over conversations.
The food and drink were spread hastily over one of the Lab's gurneys, which wasn't as off-putting as it should have been. Despite Barry's insistence it wasn't a party, it had certainly turned into one.
Mick and Zari remained by the take-out Barry had retrieved, though Mick kept sparing glances toward the elaborate Christmas tree in the corner. Presents were already tucked beneath it, the WaveRider crew here for the holidays and bearing gifts. She'd have to keep an eye on him; he was notorious for peeking.
Nate bounded over to Zari, excitedly saying something about a great holiday market in town. Their relationship was still new, but Sara supported it. There had to be some romance around the holidays, and seeing as her ill-thought-out fling with the Director of the Time Bureau had ended with Ava trying to steal her ship, Sara's prospects were limited. Not that she was looking to jump into another fling.
No, as Sara looked down at her friends—her family—she'd realized she'd outgrown the one-night stand. She'd worked hard to become a good leader, a better leader, who listened and cared. She wanted a relationship that did the same for her.
Barry had his arm over Iris's shoulder as they chatted with Ray and Harrison Wells, content with each other. Equals who could confide in one another. No secrets about their job or pasts, solidified with friendship and working together; that's what she wanted.
Charlie, John, and Cisco had their heads bent together, breaking apart only to laugh at something. Sara smiled, glad John and Charlie were getting along while acknowledging it just spelled trouble for her. She'd take it, though.
The WaveRider crew was a true team like they'd been at the beginning when Rip and Stein had been alive, and before Kendra and Jax had left, and when...
Caitlin Snow met her eyes across the crowd with a smile. Sara had spent the first hour or so with her, catching up. The good doctor and she were an unlikely friendship, but a solid one. Cait looked around the room, then met Sara's gaze with a frown and silent question.
Gesturing to the door with her head, Sara answered her question. Cait's frown got deeper and she mouthed, Is he okay?
Sara nodded, finishing her drink. As she put it down, she jerked her thumb toward the hallway. Cait acknowledged her, then drifted over to join Wells' conversation.
Leaving the Cortex, Sara wandered over to the elevator and pushed the Up button. The music from the Cortex came through the speakers sans conversation. Something jazzy and Christmassy, quiet enough to be soothing. When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out into the empty hallway, the music fading as the doors shut behind her.
These rooms had been unused for a long time. It was only last year when Ray had been infected with the Black Plague that Sara discovered them. While they all had to be quarantined, Team Flash had been one of the few facilities equipped to take care of them. The WaveRider could handle one or two, but not an entire crew. They'd all recovered, but Sara had approached Barry about those empty rooms.
Most of them didn't have much else to call home. Zari was out of time, Charlie out of species. John had his empty mansion and Ray was still legally dead. Mick watched out for Lisa, and Nate had his parents, but they still preferred the WaveRider . And without her dad and sister, Sara had almost nothing but the ship.
So, they moved into STAR Labs. It was only when they were in town, and they didn't pay rent with the understanding that metas were still a regular occurrence. But in the past year, it had really started to feel as much like home as the WaveRider . It was nice to know people were waiting for them. And with a regular place to land and sleep, they'd been making shore leave a more regular thing. More time for their lives and their friendships, in between saving the world from magical fugitives.
Walking to the end of the hall, she chanced a look out the window. Outside, a layer of white already covered the labs and the empty parking lot, with a bit of a flurry continuing. Grateful she'd packed a lot of sweaters, Sara ignored her room and gently rapped on the door across from hers.
There was no answer, but she pushed it open anyway, stepping into the dark room. When she closed the door quietly, the only light came from the window reflecting the snowfall.
She knew the interior, even in the dim light. The setup was a mirror to hers. A desk to her right, with a comfortable chair. A small bathroom was behind it, with the left opening into a small living room. The only other door led to a bedroom, but she took a seat on the blue overstuffed couch, her eyes on the gray wingback chair.
"Another headache?" She kept her voice quiet.
Without opening his eyes, Leonard Snart gave a small nod.
Shortly after her breakup, Sara had been trying to fly them through a time-storm. It had been unusual; usually, the storms were vicious but short. This one had seemed to follow them until Sara had chanced a jump from the time stream. As the WaveRider powered up, there had been a thunderbolt of sorts. An explosion that rocked the ship without doing any damage save making their jump fizzle out.
And leaving Leonard Snart, drenched and smelling of ozone, in the middle of the deck.
It had been chaos, trying to get answers out of him while explaining to the crew who hadn't known him, all while trying to get him to the medbay.
But, Gideon confirmed it. It was the original Leonard.
After that, everything clicked into place. Leonard was accepted without hesitation, partly due to Ray's effusions, Sara's assurances, and Mick's threats. But mostly because he clearly belonged. He filled the gaps they had. He was better at calling her out than John was. He could banter with Zari, keep up with Charlie, and pick on Nate mercilessly. He and John butted heads, but they still worked together. Mick was steadier, and Sara got her friend back. They played cards and drank, talked and teased and engaged in some light flirting.
She'd wondered, right after he died, if she'd loved him as more than a friend. She'd kissed him, but he'd been about to die. Eventually, she'd written it off as something that might have been more, but they'd never had a chance to find out.
Now that he was back, she was a little afraid to find out. It had been years for her and an interminable eternity for him. He hadn't brought up the kiss, so she hadn't either. She didn't regret it, but if their moment had passed, she'd be content with friendship.
Already, he was back to being her closest confidant. It was such a relief to have him back in any capacity. She'd missed him deeply, regardless of labels or potential. She was just grateful he was back, whole and healthy.
Mostly healthy.
She knew the answer even as she asked, "Did you take your meds?"
"No, but it's almost gone." His voice was steady, and he didn't flinch when she spoke.
"When did it start?"
"Little after two." It was only two-thirty now. She kept quiet, but the relief that went through her made it a challenge.
The day after he came back, Leonard had collapsed on the bridge, clutching at his head. A violent migraine, she'd later discovered, almost entirely debilitating. It lasted for hours and they'd had to give him sedatives to keep him from blacking out from the pain.
Gideon said the closest comparison was withdrawal. Having been in the void of the temporal zone for so long, his brain was struggling to function linearly again. First, it had been just migraines, then he'd started vomiting or losing consciousness. There were pills he should've been taking to ease the symptoms, though Gideon said they'd extend the recovery.
Against Gideon and the crew's advice, he'd refused to take them unless they were mid-mission.
Mick had tried to bully Leonard into taking them and, when that didn't work, tried to get Sara to step in. But she knew what it felt like to be unable to trust your own body. To wonder what moment might trigger an episode.
He'd helped her through her bloodlust with sarcasm and distraction. She helped him with his episodes with silence and backup.
They'd been getting much better. This was the first one in a week, and it was clearly only a migraine. And it had been less than half an hour. That was night and day from how it began.
Sara marked it in her phone, adding it to the log she shared with Leonard and Gideon for monitoring, then watched him for any other symptoms.
His face was dear of any lines or furrows beyond the usual. His closed eyes were still, not shifting restlessly. The casual sprawl was free of any tension as he lounged in the chair, his hands relaxed on the armrests. He was a little too still; movement tended to spark a bout of nausea still.
Her actual goal complete, she let her gaze linger. Gray dusted his hair in a way that seemed distinguished, despite his tendency to start fights with just a few remarks. In the chill of Central City, his layers were appropriate, the black sweater thick enough to make his broad shoulders broader. He still preferred his tight jeans, which she enjoyed for very different reasons. His black boots were always somehow neater than hers, though he'd gone without his knife today. She tracked back up, stopping briefly on his thighs and long fingers before lingering on his jaw.
It wasn't as if Sara was unaware she worked with all very attractive people. Zari was a knockout, and Charlie's smile was infectious. Nate and Ray were classically handsome, though not her type. She'd been attracted enough to John for a one-night stand, with his grunge mixed with a proper tie. Mick's scars and intimidating size tempted a particular and limited fantasy, but Leonard had always been one of the most attractive men she'd ever met. It was partly due to his handsome looks and storm blue eyes, partly due to his swagger and well-deserved ego, partly due to his voice and decisive opinion. Partly due to the aura of danger he exuded even in stillness.
There was just something about him that always drew her toward him, even when presented with so many beautiful options.
Another eight minutes passed before Leonard let out a quiet exhale and opened his eyes. She gave him a little smile, noting the time. Thirty-six minutes.
"Shortest one so far." She got up and passed him a water bottle from the small fridge. The communal kitchen partway down the hall meant they just had mini-fridges and microwaves in their rooms.
He took the water. "Thanks. Didn't mean to pull you away from the party." With a long sip, he glanced at her without a flicker of pain.
The headaches hit hard, but when they ended, they truly ended.
"Ray and Cisco took over the music," she reclined on his couch, "so I was on my way out anyway."
"Rather have the headaches," he drawled. When she laughed, he gave his first whisper of a smile.
"You hear back from Lisa yet?"
Propping his ankle on his knee, he finished the water. "Yeah, she'll meet us here for our wayward Christmas."
That was a far-too-appropriate title. "Make sure to warn Cisco," she teased.
He gave a theatrical wince. "Don't joke about that."
Sara grinned at him. "Cait said Lisa's stopped by quite a few times this year.”
"Stop." He tossed the empty bottle at her and she laughed, catching it.
"You want to head back down?" Sara asked.
"In a minute." He closed his eyes again.
She was content to wait with him. Letting her eyes wander, she noticed a couple of wrapped gifts through his open bedroom door. "Get all your shopping done?"
"If we're being very generous with the term 'shopping,”' he drawled, "then yes. Figured I owed everyone."
"You don't owe us anything," she told him automatically.
He scoffed, his eyes still closed. "Right. And tell me again, how many times has the crew had to cover for me? How many missions have we handed off to the Time Bureau because I wasn't up for it yet?"
"Not as many as you assume," she retorted. "You've pulled your weight."
His eyes opened and fixated on her. "I've been a liability and you know it."
She'd never call him that. He wasn't a liability. He was recovering. "Is that what you called my bloodlust? A liability?"
His silence was her answer.
"We're a team," she reminded him. "Me and you. And everyone," she added belatedly.
He didn't seem to recognize the phrase; he didn't react to it at all. "I still know you've had to cover for me. Hopefully, I'll be back to normal after the holidays."
She had given the crew an extended holiday here partially to give them a well-needed break and partially to give Leonard a chance to truly kick these headaches. He wasn't a liability, but she did worry about the stress time jumps put on him. The headaches always got worse after a jump. He'd powered through the pain for the sake of a mission, but she hadn't wanted him to suffer. So sure, she'd handed off some easier cases and kept Leonard off the missions where he'd have to go in solo, but it was because she cared, not because he couldn't handle it.
"All new Snart?"
"Original Snart," he corrected.
“I always preferred the original," she said.
Leonard met her gaze, a real smile escaping. "Well, maybe it'll be a merry Christmas, then."
Caitlin watched Sara leave the room, pulling her straw to her lips only to realize her drink was gone. Turning to take the long way around Ray and Cisco's dancing, she almost walked right into a dark button-up shirt.
"That desperate for a drink, Snow?" Harrison Wells gave her a rare smile, handing a refill to her.
"You know me so well." She handed him her empty cup, moving her straw to the new one.
He put it off to the side, an amused tilt to his mouth. "Everything okay? You seemed tense."
"I'm fine. Just worried about Sara." She took a sip.
"Ah." He glanced around the room. "I did notice Mr. Snart dipped out early. Is the dear captain with him?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'm sure she's fine." Caitlin looked up at his tone, and he gave her his trademark insufferable look. "They're together, Snow."
She smiled at him. "They aren't."
"Then they will be soon."
"They spent a year together before he died, and it's been months since he got back." It had been an ongoing topic of discussion with Barry.
Waving the hand with his drink, Harry argued, "He's been sick. Snart is not the kind of man to start something when he's not at his best."
"So he'd rather waste more time?" she countered. "They've both died."
He shrugged. "I'm not saying it's a good plan. Just that it's his."
"What would you do?'' She took another pull from her drink.
His eyes darted to hers before panning over the party. "Something clever, I'm sure."
"You mean, something overly complicated when there was a far simpler solution that was likely faster and more efficient?" She smiled up at him.
A dry chuckle escaped. "You know me well, too."
"Of course, I know you, Harry." She gently bumped into his arm with her shoulder. "You're not as hard to read as you think you are."
"Aren't I?" he murmured.
She glanced up at him, smiling at his attempt at looking secretive. "I'm glad you decided to stay for Christmas."
"Well, with Jesse at college, it's pretty quiet on Earth 2." He took another sip of his drink. "Not much left for me to do."
"Why go back?" It was a question she'd been wanting to ask for some time. Aside from Jesse, there didn't seem to be much point to Wells's trips home to Earth 2 at all. He lived at the Labs most of his time but referred to Earth 2 as home. She found herself holding her breath, just waiting for the day she'd have to say goodbye for a second time.
“Habit, I suppose. Nostalgia." He shrugged. "And Jesse, of course."
None of that was surprising, obviously. Despite logic, she found her smile slipping.
"Though, I have been considering a more permanent change." His eyes tracked Ray on the dance floor without really seeing him. "I can't keep living between Earths."
Caitlin's breath caught.
"This Christmas will be my—”
A claxon-like alarm resounded, not from anything in the Cortex, but from the pockets of the WaveRider crew. Harry immediately stepped forward. "What is that?"
"Magical fugitive alert from Gideon." Mick drained his beer as he stared at his phone. "Right in your own backyard."
"You brought one with you?" Cisco asked, frowning.
"No!" Nate said.
Charlie shrugged. "I mean…"
Ray approached one of the computers, looking at Harry. "Is it okay if I...?"
Harry gestured for him to proceed, while Barry complained, "Why does everyone assume Wells is the boss?"
"Because it's my name on your paystub, Allen."
"Technically, it's Earth-1's name on the paystub," Cisco contributed.
"Fraud?" Mick glanced at Wells with a look of pride. "Nice."
"It's still his name," Caitlin said.
"Potato, tomato."
"Can you hear us, Gideon?" Ray's voice ended the conversations, and it was quiet as Gideon's voice echoed in the Cortex.
"Yes, I can, Mr. Palmer."
Images came up on the screens of a pulse of something in the arts district of Central City. It was large, and Caitlin felt her chest constrict with the area.
"I apologize for interrupting your party," Gideon said.
"It's not a party," Barry insisted.
"Lying to an Al now, Allen?"
Caitlin didn't look, but she recognized Snart’s voice. She didn't hear Sara walk in, but she spoke next.
"What is it, Gideon?"
"A level seven, currently. It originates from this location."
"Can you get more specific?"
"Unfortunately, Mr. Snart, this fugitive seems to be able to mask their exact location."
Sara was reading something Caitlin couldn't understand, but Harry's frown suggested he was making sense of it.
"A missing person?" Harry looked toward Sara, his question more directed at his understanding.
"Yeah," she answered. "A woman."
"Miss Augusta Marton," Gideon said. "She went missing yesterday."
"What's the progression?" Mick asked through a mouthful of cookie. "Incremental or exponential?"
Cisco and Harry both turned to look at Mick, astonished.
"Unclear, Mr. Rory. This anomaly fluctuates too often to predict."
"Any other missing people?" Charlie asked.
Caitlin moved a little closer, recognizing the area.
"Not as of yet, Miss Charlie."
"A level 7 for one missing person seems high," Nate said apologetically. "Who is she?"
"An author of a science fiction series, entitled—"
"That's the Christmas Market," Caitlin realized. "I was there this morning."
"This morning?" Zari echoed.
A faint shiver went through her as she realized how close she'd been to being the missing woman. "Y-yeah."
Unexpectedly, a warm hand landed on her shoulder as Harry came up behind her. "So what do we do?"
Sara smiled at him, a touch of feral warning in the expression. "We find it and we stop it."
"Who wants to go to a Christmas Market?" Ray said with a wide smile.
No one reacted.
Leonard crossed his arms. "Who wants to hunt down a magical fugitive?"
Everyone's hands went up.
"You have no sense of whimsy."
"Sure, we do." Mick clapped Ray on the shoulder. "But we find beating up fugitives whimsical."
Caitlin grabbed her jacket as the party abruptly ended, everyone filtering out to the cars.
"Sorry to break up the party," Sara was saying to Barry.
"Not a party," he insisted. "But it's fine! This is what heroes do. Right, Snart?"
"Not a hero," Leonard retorted immediately.
"Keep telling yourself that."
Caitlin pulled her jacket on, ready to follow the crowd out.
"Snow." Harry was standing by the computer displaying the Christmas Market, something confusing on his face.
"We can monitor it from here," he offered. "If you'd prefer."
There was no judgment in his voice. It was just an offer, because of their friendship. Because of her past.
“I'll be fine," she reassured him, and herself. "Everyone will be there."
Giving her a nod, he grabbed his jacket and followed her out of the Cortex.
Leonard got out of the passenger side of the car, the flakes of snow making even the parking look seem picturesque. Streetlights seemed gold, the light warm against the falling snow.
The doors slammed behind him as Sara exited the driver's side, and Dr. Wells escaped the backseat, followed quickly by Dr. Snow.
Mick lumbered out of the other side, having joined them unexpectedly and forcing Snow half into Wells's lap.
Not that it seemed like he minded.
The minivan that Allen drove parked next to them, blaring Christmas music as Allen, West-Allen, Ray, Nate, Constantine, Charlie, and Cisco tumbled out.
"Glad you rode with me?" Sara came up next to him, wrapping a scarf around her throat. It was a dark red, contrasting with her black jacket nicely.
"It was definitely the lesser of two evils." Not a lie, though not the entire truth.
She laughed, her eyes on her phone.
"Any clearer here?" Snow asked, crossing her arms.
Shaking her head, Sara put her phone away. "No, the signal is weaker now."
"Cell service isn't great, either," Iris added.
Cisco pulled a battered blue hat onto his head. "Usually, these pop-up shops have a cell blocker or two, to keep people from looking up the prices on Amazon."
"I don't blame them," Ray said. "People should support small business owners."'
"Says the millionaire," Mick added.
Sara cleared her throat, then looked at Allen. "I'd suggest splitting up, but not going solo. A mix of WaveRider and Team Flash."
Allen nodded as if his argument would've stopped them from doing exactly what Sara said. “Great, let’s split this into four quadrants then.”
It was overly complicated for about two minutes before Mick just started walking off. “Ramon, Pretty, with me.”
West-Allen, Charlie, and Ray went off together, while Zari, Barry, and Constantine went off to cause trouble on their own.
Which left Leonard with Wells, Snow, and Sara. Sara and the doctor started off together, chatting as if they weren’t on a mission. For a moment, Leonard wondered if he’d have to just go off with Wells, but he followed the two women, and Leonard relaxed a little.
Covered carts, tents, and tables lined the open square, spreading out in an asterisk shape from a large Christmas tree in the center. Cloves and cinnamon hung heavily in the air, the decorations and lights almost overwhelming when combined with all the people. Children darted between legs, bobble-topped hats bouncing and dusted with snow. Some carts sold food and drinks, with a few tarps and tables arranged between the arms of the asterisk where people could stop and sit. He saw families and couples out in droves, holding hands as they wandered from cart to table, perusing all the offerings of food, decor, gifts, and more.
Sara was taking it slowly, stopping at every cart methodically and interacting with every artist or creator or baker who happened to be manning it. Snow stayed with her, the two of them chatting easily with every individual they met, while Leonard hung back and watched the reactions they left behind.
It was a common ruse for a mission like this when they weren’t sure who or what they were looking for. Make themselves blend in and do their best to take note of everyone. Sara did the talking while Leonard monitored the phone; even if it couldn’t pinpoint the fugitive’s location, it should still signal when they were in immediate proximity of one. He didn’t mind the work, though usually, it was just him and Sara partnering up. They’d often pretend to be a couple out for a date.
Leonard found his eyes straying more often to Sara than to the people he was supposed to be watching. She was laughing at something Snow said, her eyes dancing, and he couldn’t help his faint smile in response.
Though he hadn’t planned on dying, he hadn’t regretted it. He’d made a choice to be more than what people expected. He stopped dancing to their tunes and following their scripts, and he’d changed it.
And if he’d been…disappointed that he’d never get to find out exactly what was brewing between him and Sara? Well, that was to be expected. He’d been attracted to her from the first, and when it seemed like she’d reciprocated, it had been a natural step to assume that activities involving their beds or the cargo room wall would follow.
Of course, it hadn’t been quite so simple. There were feelings involved, at least on his part, though he hadn’t explicitly defined them. He hadn’t intended to, not for a while.
But when she kissed him, he might have wondered if it could have been more than just a fling. More than just friends, or friends with benefits.
Then he died.
And came back.
He was no stranger to the kiss before apparent death or doom. He had two memorable experiences before Sara, one before he went to prison and one right before he shot Alexa. Both had been confused by the adrenaline of danger and the thrill of the chase. Afterward, it had been easy to look back and realize that it wasn’t what he thought it was at the moment.
Looking back to the Oculus, though, wasn’t easy. It didn’t feel like something to be written off as adrenaline or fear. At least, not for him. He didn’t think Sara had written it off, either. Not with the way she looked at him, even if they didn’t talk about the kiss at all. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was just…
A child ran by, screeching as a little girl chased him with a snowball. The sound scraped against his temple, and the fading tenderness left from his headache flared slightly, making him wince. The headaches ended quickly, but it was like they left him more sensitive to another.
“You alright?”
Leonard didn’t look at Wells, grateful the man had kept his voice pitched low enough that Sara couldn’t hear. “Fine.”
“Mind if I ask a question?”
“Do you normally ask for permission?” He hadn’t had a ton of interaction with Wells, but he already guessed the answer.
“No.”
“Go ahead, if only for the novelty.”
Sara glanced back, smiling as they moved on to the next cart. Wells didn’t speak again until she was well engrossed with the next table.
“The headaches are because you’re adjusting to a new experience of time.” He paused. “Well, readjusting to it.”
Leonard nodded, though he knew it wasn’t a question.
“What was it like? Existing outside of a linear time stream?”
His eyes were on Sara, his hand on his phone, but his mind was far, far away. He didn’t remember too many details of being in the time stream. Nightmares, on occasion. Mild panic attacks that only Gideon knew of. He either blocked it out or his mind refused to acknowledge it to keep him sane. But he remembered enough.
“What’s your favorite movie?”
Wells didn’t ask why he wanted to know. “Casablanca.”
Classic. And interesting on a few levels, but Leonard ignored the implications.
“Imagine being in the Cortex. All the TVs are on, and they’re all playing Casablanca. But they’re all on different parts, and they’re all a little off. In one, Rick is played by James Stewart instead of Bogart. In another, they’re in Paris. In one, Ilsa ends up with Rick or Renault, or sometimes Rick dies. Viktor dies. Ilsa dies. The Germans win in some. The plane crashes in others. And you can’t pick out the real one, because they’re all real and all happening at the same time.”
Wells was quiet, and Leonard closed his eyes, pushing back the ache. In an instant, he saw another dozen lifetimes, with aliens or children or monsters or nothing but a coffee shop. He shook his head.
“Now, imagine it’s a thousand TVs. Ten thousand, but you’re in them instead of watching them. And instead of Casablanca, it’s every way your life could have gone.” Leonard stared ahead, forcing himself to be present, grounding himself here and now in the snow and the Christmas lights, because if he didn’t, the time stream threatened to sweep him back up and swallow him whole. “And you lived a million of them, feeling like it was yours, that it was real.”
Wells was looking at him, but Leonard kept his gaze forward. “Then you got out, and now you have just one television. One life.”
Sara looked back at him, her wide smile fading a little as she caught his eye. He saw the worry lines appear between her brows and raised his own, as if he didn’t know why she was concerned. Caitlin said something, pulling her attention away from him.
The other man’s expression was thoughtful, without any of the pity or judgment he was expecting to see. He seemed to be considering Leonard’s words.
“You don’t know which version of Casablanca you have,” Wells said quietly.
Leonard shook his head once, then finally glanced at Wells. “No.”
He didn't know and he couldn't remember. The chaos of the time stream had been overwhelming, a hundred lifetimes almost identical save one incident, one word.
He didn't know if Ilsa got on the plane or stayed with Rick.
"I can imagine how difficult it must be." Wells had looked back toward Sara and Snow. "I've lived the life of two Wells, and met a few others. It must be…paralyzing to have so many potentialities available."
Not a bad description. He certainly felt paralyzed whenever Sara mentioned anything close to a relationship or referenced the Oculus. The 'me and you' today had been unexpected. "I don't want to say the wrong thing."
Wells let out a chuckle, and Leonard bristled, cutting his eyes at him.
"Sorry," he said, raising his hands in apology. "But I was that arrogant, too."
"Arrogant," Leonard repeated, still on edge.
“You watched your life go a million ways, but that wasn't due to you. Not entirely." Wells paused. "When I arrived, I found out my wife had died here, too.”
He'd known that Wells had been married, but no one ever discussed it.
"I spent weeks researching, trying to find out what choice I made that kept leading to her death. Timetables and decision flow charts. I couldn't find anything. Then I met another version of me, and his Tess was still alive."
They shifted to another cart, but Leonard didn't speak. Sara had mentioned that they'd met a couple of versions of him. How would it have felt to look at someone you'd lost, only to discover if things had been different, if you had been different, they might have lived?
"I sat down with him and went through every second of that night." Wells's mouth twisted a little. "Not a single moment was different."
"So what happened?"
"What happened is that Eobard Thawne didn't kill her."
Leonard frowned, not quite seeing the point.
"It was nothing I did," Wells said. "My choices contribute to the timeline, but so do every other person's. This Earth isn't different because of my choices. It's different because everyone is making their own decisions. Ramon chose to work for his brother in another life. Allen was too cowardly to confess to Iris. Snow worked for her mother rather than me. There was nothing I could've done to change that."
Leonard was quiet.
"It's not about making sure this is the right version. This is the version you have, so choose to make it the right one. At least," he shrugged, a little smug. "That's what I'd do."
"Is it?" Wells had a decent point, but Leonard wasn't about to let him feel superior. "Because I saw quite a few versions of you that ended up with the good doctor." He gestured with his head to Snow.
Wells followed the movement, his smile and superiority fading.
"It clearly works," Leonard continued. "And it's not like either of you is seeing anyone else. Allen has certainly mentioned your pining—”
"I do so appreciate your insight," Wells interrupted, sounding entirely unappreciative. "But I have absolutely no interest in—"
"Hey!" Snow and Sara approached with cups. Wells slammed his mouth shut so hard his teeth clicked together.
Snow stared at him oddly as she held out a cup. "I got you a cider," she said, a note of confusion in her tone
"Thanks," Wells said, almost apologetic.
Leonard took the cup Sara handed him, unable to help his small smug smile.
Sara eyed him suspiciously, her grin tugging at her mouth. "What'd you do?" she murmured, leaning closer to him conspiratorially.
"Nothing." The cider was warm against his fingers, bleeding through the styrofoam.
"Liar," she teased, knocking his shoulder.
He took a sip rather than admit to it. It did taste delicious.
Sara looked around. "Not much more, so unless someone else found something, we might be coming back tomorrow."
“You mean we might have to miss Allen’s potluck dinner?” Wells asked, taking a sip of his cider.
Snow nudged him with her elbow, and Leonard noticed the warmer and softer smile Wells cast at her. Then he looked up and saw Leonard watching him.
He cleared his throat, looking at Sara. “I’ll go check in with Allen and the others. See if they found anything worthwhile.”
Snow made a move to follow, but Wells gave her a little nod. “I’ll catch up in a bit.”
“Oh, okay.” She smiled, and it wavered a bit. “Sure.”
Leonard felt a bit of guilt as Wells turned away, Snow watching him go. Not that he was wrong; Wells and Snow did work well together. They just needed to get over themselves and go for it. But he didn’t want Snow to suffer while Wells took his sweet time pulling his head out of his ass.
Sara’s expression flickered, and then she put her arm through Snow’s and hooked her elbow with Leonard’s to tug them along with her. He nearly lost his footing at the unexpected contact, falling into step with her as she pressed against his side.
“Come on,” she said, her smile almost entirely believable in the gently swaying lights. “Let’s clear this spot and we’ll go get a drink.”
He picked up the subtle scent of dark red wine, something heavy with black cherries and violets, noting it as Sara’s regular perfume. It mixed with the sweeter apples from his drink and the bite of cold snow around them. If he leaned a little closer under the guise of taking a sip of his cider, it could have been mistaken.
The crowds were starting to thin out, the temperature and time of night pushing families home. Children were tucked into jackets, their heads covered with hats and scarves as strollers were pushed to the cars, the baskets beneath filled with spoils. Couples got closer, pulling each other into embraces or, a few braver souls, dancing to the music by the center of the market.
Sara’s arm tightened against his, and he felt a small shiver go through her as the wind picked up. He couldn’t tell if she pulled Snow closer, too.
They got closer to the end of the lane; to the left, there was one awning with drapes around it to keep out the wind, while the cart on the right was crowded with people. Leonard pulled the trio in the direction of the awning.
He pulled the edge aside, slipping his arm free of Sara’s to let her and Snow go in first. The wind seemed colder as she stepped away from him, but they all escaped inside.
It was far warmer without the wind, a small space heater puffing away from a generator making it downright cozy. Small white Christmas lights hung around the ceiling, with brighter lights in the corners to display the product.
Snow globes were on tables around the edges, milk crates sitting on their sides to create two shelves that went all around. Some of them were simple figures, a reindeer or Santa in a snow globe no bigger than a quarter. Others were more traditional, with a house or tree that had a globe the size of his fist. Some were automatic, the fake snow swirling consistently through the glass, while the snow in others had settled to the bottom, waiting to be moved.
A massive snow globe sat in the center of one table, depicting an entire small town, with a large, decorated tree in the center, and a train that ran along the edge. Small woods dotted the edges, swallowing up the train’s route, and the snow moved constantly, a faint hum denoting the small motor that kept it moving.
“All my snowglobes are handmade,” said a voice from the corner, “and have a lifetime guarantee.”
An older woman sat in a folding chair, a worn quilt over her knees. Her gray hair was escaping from a red hat, and her matching coat gave her an entirely festive appearance. She smiled as Leonard looked over. “Unless you try to break them, of course.”
“They’re beautiful,” Snow said, leaning over one that showed a series of constellations, the snow inside looking more like glitter.
“Thank you, love. All of them are unique. No two exactly the same.” She leaned over and adjusted a small radio next to her. A cheesy song began to play, the singer’s voice almost absurdly low.
The wind picked up outside, rattling the tarps.
“Quite a storm we’re about to get,” the shopkeep noted. “I hope you don’t have a long drive home.”
“No, we’re pretty close,” Sara said. “What about you? Anyone to help you pack up?”
She laughed, “No, but I’ve managed for years. I’ll manage tonight, too.”
Leonard wandered toward the large globe, noting the incredible detail in the houses, down to the red flowers in the faintly glowing windows. It was amazing work.
Sara joined him, taking another sip of her cider. She put both hands around her cup, warming them as she leaned closer.
“This is amazing,” she said to the older woman.
“Thank you. That’s my favorite.”
“I can see why. Cait, you should check this out.”
Snow came over and Leonard stepped back, bemused by the exquisite focus on even the streetlights along the edge of the town. He took a look at the other pieces, the wind rattling a little harder and lifting the edge of the tarp. Between the wind and the music, he could barely hear anyone outside the awning.
Behind him, he heard Sara talking to Snow. “...worry about it. I’m sure it was Len and not you.”
“Right,” Snow said, unconvinced.
Leonard glanced over his shoulder at them, wondering if he should speak up. His eyes caught on the older woman, who was still smiling at him.
“Which one’s your girlfriend?” she asked quietly.
Leonard arched a brow. “What makes you think it’s either one?”
“Because you’re at a Christmas Market and you don’t have any shopping.” She glanced at them again. “Are they together?”
“No.” That time he did smile. “They aren’t.”
She glanced at Sara, then back at him. “Ah, I see.”
She looked far too smug for him to call her bluff and ask what she saw. He didn’t want to have this conversation with some old biddy at a market. The music seemed to get a little louder.
“Favorite song of yours?” he asked.
“Don’t like the Temptations? They’re classic.” She sat back in her chair. “And they give sound advice.”
“Like what?”
“That lights up, you know,” the woman said, turning toward Sara and Snow. “Just press the snowflake on the side.”
Leonard saw Snow jump and knew they hadn’t really been looking at the snow globe. He got a little closer as Snow turned the globe just a little, leaning over to look on the side.
Sara reached over. “This one?”
The woman smiled and Leonard felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
“Lance, wait—”
He went to grab her shoulder, and Sara pressed the snowflake.
The wind picked up as the Temptations continued to play, rattling the tarps and revealing tables of snowglobes, twinkling lights, and an old woman in the corner, humming along.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Everywhere you go
There's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well
It's the sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow