#it's peaceful in the deep is a direct sequel that takes place after the ch 45 cliffhanger(s) can't spoil that yet 🤫😉

[burned-lariat]

Okay since we're getting close to the end of "how to keep house while drowning," I should get started on my next project. Not sure which one though...

Check the tags for more info!

[stillthewordgirl]

CC/LOT fic: Nemesis (ch. 2)

The sequel to "Thief & Assassin," my CaptainCanary/Arrowverse fantasy AU. Leonard and Sara are content as lovers and heads of their respective Guilds in Centralis. However, newcomers to the city may ruin all that--and the peace of the kingdom itself.

Sorry for the delay on this second chapter! Yes, it’s veering even more toward TimeShip. No regrets. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta.

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

Sara went back and forth on telling Leonard about Malcolm Merlyn’s presence in the city for the next few hours, even as she bid a concerned Amaya farewell and took Sin back to the Guild hall. Merlyn was dangerous. Someone else should know about him—and they should tell the king, too.

But if she told Leonard about Merlyn, she should tell him about more of her own past. About how she ended up in the League. About her family. About Stella.

About the Pit.

And that’s where she always mentally recoiled, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She’d killed Damien Darhk because she’d caught him using dark magic, death magic. How would her friends here take it if they knew Sara’d been the recipient of that sort of magic herself? Even though it hadn’t been by her own will?

As it turns out, she doesn’t need to make a decision that night, because Leonard doesn’t show up. And that’s fine, really—they hadn’t made plans, and he has his own Guild to run (and she knows he keeps his hand in on jobs, too). But it does mean she doesn’t sleep well, undistracted by a lover, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the nightmares that still lurk in the darkness behind her eyes.

Fortunately, though, Sara didn’t have anything to do early the next day. She did a little research on the cases of the day before, chose candidates for the guard job, and led some middle-level Guild members through a rousing sparring session. Then she washed, changed, and headed for the palace.

There have been a number of surprises in her life since moving to Centralis. Her friendship with the seneschal is one of them.

Gideon glanced up as Sara entered her office, smiling, but she didn’t stop speaking to the young palace worker who was watching her so intently. Sara leaned against the wall and waited, idly inspecting the space, from the weapons that Gideon now displayed openly to the painting of a sky strewn with stars that hung on another wall.

Then a word or two in the conversation caught her ear. Sara’s eyes snapped to Gideon, who very carefully didn’t look at her. And after a few more moments, the girl left and the two women regarded each other, Gideon with quiet expectation and Sara with great trepidation.

Finally, the latter spoke.

“A full royal ball,” she said carefully, moving toward the desk. “Really?”

The seneschal nodded. She looked amused at Sara’s dismay, but there was something else there too...

“When?” Sara asked again before she could try to analyze it—yet.

“A seven-day.” Gideon looked through some papers on the desk then, avoiding Sara’s eyes. “Which everyone keeps saying isn’t enough time, but I think we’ll be fine. The tailors and dressmakers will be frantic, of course, but they’ll also be making quite a good bit of money from this, so they won’t complain too much. It'll be announced tonight.”

“Why...”

Before Sara could finish the question, though, a kitchen servant poked his head in and asked politely if they were planning to eat in one of the gardens, the small dining room, or Gideon’s office—all of which they’ve done since starting this standing tradition. The seneschal, with a glance at Sara for confirmation, suggested one of the gardens, and they started that way as the man nodded and vanished to retrieve their food from the kitchens.

They didn’t pick up their conversation again until they’d settled, in an out-of-the-way corner of one of the lesser trafficked gardens—and even then, Gideon directed that conversation mostly to lighter topics, inquiring about happenings in the city, mutual acquaintances and Guild business. She was from her own country’s equivalent of the Assassins Guild, after all, brought in as a guard for the young prince, and the fact that her organizational skills made her ideal for the cover of the seneschal’s position had just been happenstance.

Sara took the misdirection with mostly good grace, concentrating on her lunch, but once that was done and they were simply chatting over a cup of cold tea, she looked directly at her friend again.

“Why?” is all she said. It’s all that was needed. And Gideon nodded.

“Now that Druce isn’t working his way behind the scenes, plotting and messing things up, it has occurred to other kingdoms and localities that we have an unmarried king,” she said, folding her hands in front of herself, her voice precise and utterly without emotion. “Not a stripling, indeed, but still able to father heirs—or, equally or more convenient to some, one who already has an heir, should they decide to suggest the suit of a man, or a woman who does not wish to or cannot produce children. The connection is what’s most valuable.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise. But it was, somehow, and Sara just blinked at her for a long moment.

“But...a ball?” she managed finally. “That’s...like something out of a really cliché story...”

Gideon acknowledged that with a flicker of amusement and a tip of her head. “There are a few so-called royal or noble envoys arriving just before that time,” she said. “In reality, we’re quite certain they’re here to...see how they’ll suit. The king, I mean. Might as well get it all out there in the open. They’ll know why we’re doing it.”

There was a certain practicality there. But Sara just shook her head, unable to picture it.

“But what about you?” she blurted out after a moment.

“What about me?” But the seneschal glanced away, a tell she rarely displayed, a sign of unhappiness and discomfort. Sara waited, letting her decide how she wanted to address the matter, the reality that the king and his seneschal have been in a romantic relationship for a while now—and they’d been in love for even longer than that.

Finally, Gideon looked back at her, expression composed once again.

“I am...no one special in my country of origin, Sara,” she said carefully. “And monarchs do not often marry for love. Rip...the king was fortunate that he could, with his queen. I cannot even provide him with another heir.” She glanced away. “It’s possible he could wed again with the provision that he and his spouse would both keep separate households and we could...carry on, I suppose.” She looked down, though, at her hands, and Sara knew.

“You’ll leave,” she said regretfully. “Won’t you?”

Gideon hesitated only a moment before she nodded. “When the king weds, yes. I believe I shall resign. And leave. Perhaps I will return to my Guild.” She spread her hands out before her as Sara digested that “when.” “It was never meant to be, Sara. We are not the same kind.”

The words made Sara angry, for some reason, a rush of rage that’s not directed at Gideon or at the king, but rather at circumstances. The anger, she thought, has been sitting in her since she saw Malcolm Merlyn in this place where she’d been making a home for herself—here, she fears, to damage her life again, in one way or another. And now she might lose this friendship that has become precious to her as well.

“You make him happy,” she told the other woman heatedly, sitting back in her chair. “I haven’t known him for long, and I can see that. Isn’t that more valuable than any alliance based on a falsehood?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“Well, then, maybe I need to talk to the king.” But as Sara pushed back her chair and rose, Gideon did too, holding her hands up in a clear plea.

“Please,” she said quietly. “He doesn’t know. That I plan to leave. Let me be the one to tell him.”

“Will you do it before he agrees to wed someone else?” Sara shook her head as the seneschal hesitated. “You won’t, will you? You’ll let him make that mistake, knowing...”

“I can’t interfere in policy," Gideon told her, her own tone getting a little sharp. “I came here to guard the prince; I took on this role because it fit. I’ve become involved too much already, here. I...”

But her voice ran off then, and she glanced away. Sara’s a little startled to see what might almost be a sheen of tears in the usually pragmatic woman’s eyes. Then Gideon turned back toward her—and maybe it was just a trick of the light. She looked stoic yet again.

Maybe.

“I won’t,” Sara said into the silence. “But, Gideon...talk to him. Please. Don’t let him make this mistake without knowing, at least.”

Her friend, to Sara’s great regret, made no promises.

After the day and night he’s had, Leonard would, truly, like nothing more than to track down Sara, wrap his arms around her and fall into bed. To sleep, to talk, to lose himself in her so he doesn’t have to think about some of the sorry decisions he’s made in his life, including this latest one.

And that’s the last thing he should do.

He’d fallen in with Thawne, now, much to his current regret, in part because he was trying to distract the man and keep him away from Sara. Of course, the whole thing wound up being more complicated than that, and he’s pretty sure Thawne hasn’t told him everything, either.

So. He’ll get through it. He’ll finish the job, see Thawne and his still-unnamed associate out of his city with alacrity. And then it will be back to normal. Right?

Leonard looked down at the plans on his desk and sighed. He was increasingly sure that this was a mistake. And he was really, really sure that he needed to know more about the target…targets…than Thawne had told him.

Somehow, he needed to get to the university and do some research. How, and when…he wasn’t so sure.

“Hey.”

And while he knew he shouldn’t go to see Sara with this hanging over him, he’d been utterly unable to tell the doorkeeper to keep her out should she come to him. He took a deep breath and looked up, glancing over at where Sara leaned against the doorway, watching him with an oddly uncertain expression.

“Hey,” Leonard returned. He reached out casually for his journal, moving it toward him—and over the drawings. Sara didn’t seem to notice. She did move closer, though, studying him.

“Haven’t seen you since before the council meeting,” she asked. “How’d it go?”

Leonard snorted. Plans covered, he leaned back in his chair. “Talk, talk, talk. For far too long. But…” He shrugged. “I lived. And presumably, I’ll live through the next few meetings. I hope.”

Sara laughed, a little. The sound didn’t have much humor. She studied him a little longer. “What’s wrong?”

Leonard lifted his eyebrows. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

He blinked and stared at her. Frowning, Sara stared back.

Now, though, he looked closer. Saw the fault lines of trouble and worry etched between her eyes, in her frown. And he knew that something was bothering her just as much as something was bothering him. More, even.

“What’s bugging you, then?” he retorted, then held up a hand when she scowled. “I tell you, you tell me.”

Sara hesitated, then nodded. “You first.”

Leonard thought it through, then sighed. “I took a job that I…wish I hadn’t,” he said. “I’m just trying to get it done with and over. It’s really that simple.” He eyed her. “And you?”

Sara shook her head. “Not nearly that simple.” She moved into the room, closing the door behind her carefully, everything about her demeanor cluing Leonard in that the situation was bothering her far more than just his absence or an irritating job. He started to stand, concerned, but she waved him down again, pulling over the other chair in his office, turning it around and taking a seat. The back of the chair was between them, and she clutched it like a weapon, mouth still a straight line.

Sara took a deep breath and Leonard watched her, trying to look receptive and encouraging, even as a tendril of fear (of what, he’s not quite sure) coiled inside.

“I saw someone,” she said finally. “Yesterday afternoon, in the market. Someone from my past.”

Leonard studied her, considering who would draw this reaction. “Someone from the League?” he asked after a moment, when she remained quiet.

Sara’s lips twitched, but not in a smile. “Yes, actually, but that’s actually beside the point.” Her eyes went to his. “Not Nyssa.”

He nodded. He knew about Sara’s former love. This reaction…this wasn’t that sort of uncertainty. It was almost fear. Or was fear? From Sara?

“He’s dangerous,” she said, and maybe she didn’t realize how white her fingers were as they clutched the back of the chair. “And I don’t know why he’s here. He was surprised to see me; he’s not here for that. Still…it can’t be good.”

“Did you tell the Guard?” Len asked quietly, wanting to reach out to her but uncertain how that would be taken by a Sara in this odd, frightened mood. “You know Joe West is a good man. And I know you’re friendly with Kendra…”

But Sara shook her head quickly. “There are reasons I don’t want people to know about the connection,” she said, then stopped. Leonard let her work through whatever she was thinking, realizing that she was trying to decide what to tell him. This thing between them….it was still new, and he tried not to be a trifle disappointed that she hesitated so long. But they both had their pasts, and their secrets—he glanced briefly down at the hidden plans on his desk—and Sara was entitled to hers.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said quietly as her silence drew out.

That actually seemed to galvanize her. “No,” Sara said, shaking her head. “Someone needs to know. And I’d rather tell you than anyone else.” She gave him a tiny smile, but it’s a bit weary and uncertain. Leonard leaned forward, clasping his hands, eyes on her face, trying to look encouraging and nonjudgmental.

“Do you remember…” she started, then stopped. Sighed. Continued. “There was a reason I had a reaction to the stone that held Savage’s soul. Even though I don’t have any magic of my own.”

That was…not what he was expecting. Leonard tilted his head, trying not to show surprise, eyes still fixed on Sara’s face. And she continued, the words sending a chill down his spine.

“I was dead, Leonard,” she told him, voice bleak. “Dead. For about a year.” Her shoulders hunched as a chill ran down his spine, and she shook her head, glancing away “And dark magic brought me back—through no will of my own, but still.”

She glanced at him, clearly expecting some sort of reaction, and not a good one. But Leonard was no idiot, and he wasn’t the sort to recoil without reason. He knew Sara Lance, in more ways than one, and he trusted that knowledge and bond between them. He studied her a moment, but then nodded matter of factly, keeping eye contact.

“You’re clearly alive now,” he said drily, reaching out a hand out, resting it gently on her still-tense hands. “And even if dark magic brought you back, that doesn’t mean it’s part of you. Right? Harrison would have sensed that.”

Sara stared at him like she couldn’t believe his reaction. “Well, no…I don’t think so. And, yes, I’m alive now; I’m not reliant on it. I…” She shook her head. “It wasn’t that easy, though. I didn’t have a soul at first, and…and then there was this…bloodlust…”

Her voice trailed off, and she sighed. “I think I’m past that. Finally. But it was bad enough at first that I couldn’t go back to Stella. And I’m still giving it some time. Eventually I’ll go, contact my father and sister again.”

She’d never mentioned her family before. Leonard considered her thoughtfully. “Do they know…”

“That I’m alive at all? Yes. My sister…” But Sara shook her head again, stopping, and Leonard felt a twinge of regret at the loss of more information about her. “It’s a long story. But…my very existence is against all manner of basic rules governing the use of magic, and if people find out…”

“What’s done is done, and it’s not your fault.”

“Still.” Sara shrugged. “I’d rather not have it get out.”

Leonard tilted his head. “Understandable.” He paused. “What does this all have to do with the person you saw?”

He figured it’s one of two things. It’s either the person who brought her back, or…

“He’s the one who killed me,” Sara told him bluntly, turning her hand over to contract her fingers around his. “Well, arranged to have me killed. And he knows. How I came back, and far too much about me.” She shuddered, and Leonard felt a rush of icy rage.

This man needed to die. But he wasn’t going to step on any toes. He’d be just as happy to help Sara kill him.

“We’ll find him,” he told her. “And y’know, you can call challenge on him. That’s still a thing. The Guard…”

But Sara was shaking her head. “I just want him to go away,” she said with another sigh, “and preferably, never see him again.”

After a moment, Leonard nodded. And neither of them said anything more, not for the moment.

They just sat there, hands connected.

Leonard didn’t want to be here.

He wanted to be back at the Guild hall--one of their Guild halls--with Sara. Distracting her, showing her that what she’d told him didn’t change how he looked at her at all. No matter the past, she was one of the most alive people he knew.

He’d admit, too, that there was a certain protective “mine” instinct that was coiled inside him at the notion of this man who’d hurt the woman he cared for so much. Leonard knew his city, and he knew that, given the opportunity, he could track the man down. Make him pay. Perhaps for good.

But Sara hadn’t even wanted to give him the guy’s name, let alone a description, probably because she understood that instinct. He wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to challenge the man herself—he’d seen her fight, and he found it unlikely that she wouldn’t win. Presumably, it was the same reason she wouldn’t go to the Guard, that she didn’t want the story to get out.

All in all, it made him distracted and frustrated, even as he tapped his fingers against the long, shallow wood case he was holding, the sign of a successful job. He’d arranged to meet Thawne—and presumably, Thawne’s associate—here in this tavern in the seedier side of the city, the sort of place where everyone knew perfectly well who the head of the Thieves Guild was and to stay the hell away from whatever was going down. It was surely not the sort of place he’d go for his own enjoyment.

“Snart.”

The name, as always, made a chill run down Leonard’s spine, and his eyes narrowed as he turned his head, watching Thawne and another man approach the back booth that Leonard preferred. Not good. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t seen them come in.

Thawne seemed to realize it, too. That cold smile was just a little too knowing. He nodded to Leonard, then turned to his companion, a smirking, handsome, black-clad man. The newcomer slid easily into the booth and rested his elbows on the table and his head on his clasped hands, regarding the thief.

“This is my associate, Malcolm Merlyn,” Thawne said smoothly, joining the other man. “I presume you have…it.”

Merlyn wasn’t overly threatening, but he tripped something in Leonard’s sense of people not to fuck with. Both dangerous and smart…and even more so, clever. He’d rather like to study the other man a little longer, but Thawne was staring at him challengingly, and he wanted both men gone more.

“Please,” he drawled, placing the case on the table. “They don’t even know it’s gone. And I’ll thank you to do nothing to indicate that it is, at least not yet. Stealing from the Temple District is a lovely way to wind up cursed.”

Merlyn’s smirk grew, like he found that amusing, but Thawne merely pulled the box toward himself, opening it to regard the item within. After only a moment, though, he nodded, closed it and looked back up at Leonard even as he made the case vanish.

“We still need the other two pieces,” he said coldly.

Leonard inclined his head toward the man, trying to keep his dislike off his face “As you’ve said. And you’ll have them. One at a time.”

“The next two nights?” Merlyn spoke, finally, a light and almost amused tone that raised the hairs on the back of Leonard’s neck for some reason. He regarded the other man coolly, which only made the smirk grow more. Merlyn leaned forward even as Leonard leaned back, and he spoke as though confiding a secret to a friend.

“And…something from the Assassins Guild,” he said. “Can we add that to our contract?”

Leonard’s eye narrowed, though he tried to keep the alarm from showing. Precisely what does this man want to steal from Sara’s Guild?

“We have alliance with them,” he said sharply. “I’m not going to break that word.”

Thawne actually laughed, drawing Leonard’s attention back to him.

“The word of a thief?” he said, a little scorn in his tone. “Truly, Master Snart?”

“Not my name,” Leonard retorted, letting some anger into his own voice. “And yes. The word of a thief. Would you like it if I broke my contract with you?”

It was a threat, and Thawne heard it. His own eyes narrowed, and the two men stared each other down, with Merlyn as an amused witness. But Thawne broke first, shaking his head roughly and sliding out of the booth to his feet.

“How will you let us know when you have them?” he snapped as Merlyn followed him.

“Come back to this tavern. If I have them, I’ll be here.” Leonard tilted his head to indicate the booth, pleased to have another way to make these troublemakers in his city dance to his tune.

“If you don’t…”

“I will.” Leonard’s voice was utterly cold. “Best get going now. You don’t want to be seen with a thief, after all.”

He watched as the two men left, then sighed, running a finger down the condensation on his untouched drink.

And not for the first time, he cursed Lewis, even years after his death, for bringing these two to his door.

This was going to end in trouble. He just knew it.

He just hoped it didn’t end in tears.