daylight_darknight: (Earth Sunrise)
[personal profile] daylight_darknight
Please excuse my random, erratic updates. Anyway, yay for cliffhangers! Story completed despite the stupid wasp that decided to sting me on my arm on my way home today.


Title: Bank Robbers and Cutpurses
Characters: Rip Hunter, Leonard Snart
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Hurt/Comfort (sort of)
Word Count: 3300 for Chapter 3, about 15,000 in total
Spoilers: Set between 1x12 and 1x13.
Summary: Rip Hunter, Leonard Snart, a concussion, a broken ankle, and a time pirate prison cell.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2


Chapter 3

Back in the corridor, Rip and Snart headed straight for the lift, side by side in what was now their usual ungainly manner. Rip hit the panel beside the door as soon as they reached it. The panel made an odd 'blorp' noise, flashed red, and then went dark again.

Snart scowled at the uncooperative piece of machinery. “Can you rewire this one too?”

“No need.” Rip pulled the passkey from his pocket and swiped it against the panel. The panel let out a high pitched beep and glowed blue.

“Huh,” said Snart. “I suppose those pirates were good for something after all.”

With a mechanical hum, the lift doors opened revealing a, thankfully, empty lift. They went, or in Snart's case hopped, inside. There was a standard column of buttons along one wall and Rip let Snart press the button they needed. He hit the one indicating the main floor. They had apparently been in some sort of subbasement, but judging by the number of buttons, the building itself had ten more levels above ground.

The trip up in the lift was short but tense. Both men knew just how vulnerable they were trapped in such a small space with no idea what might be on the other side of the doors when they arrived. When the lift eventually began to slow, they positioned themselves on either side of the doors so they wouldn't be visible when they opened and pulled out their knives holding them at the ready.

The lift halted and the doors slid open revealing... nothing. All they could see was a blank, gray wall a couple meters away. In unison, they poked their heads out, peering around the sides of the door, one looking left, the other right. They were in another empty corridor similar to the one below, but shorter with only a couple of doors along its length and T junctions at either end.

“These pirates really need to consider getting themselves a new interior decorator,” said Snart as he gazed at the gray metal walls.

Rip stepped out into the corridor ensuring himself that it really was as empty as it appeared. It was, but off in the distance he could hear the faint sound of voices.

“Which way?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Left,” said Snart, gesturing with his head.

Stowing their knives, they took ahold of each other once more and headed left. Unfortunately, this took them directly to where the voices were coming from. The voices grew increasingly louder as they neared the T-junction though not enough to make out what they were saying. The pair slowed down making an attempt at being stealthy and failing completely. It wasn’t really possible to hop quietly.

Deciding to try a different tactic, Rip led Snart over to the side of the corridor. “Wait here,” he whispered.

Snart didn’t look very pleased with the idea, but he leaned against the wall and made no protest as Rip went to check the way ahead.

Rip poked his head into to the T-junction quickly scanning both left and right. Both ways were clear. To the right, the corridor ended after a few meters in a large set of double doors. To the left, the corridor went on a little further, and then abruptly turned to the right. That was where the voices were coming from.

Rip held up a hand indicating to Snart to stay where he was and headed towards the voices as quietly as he could. Reaching the turn in the corridor, he plastered himself against the wall keeping just out of sight.

“No, no, no,” came a woman's voice from around the corner. “The Aurora, not the Nautilus, you idiot. The Aurora's the one we blew in half. The Nautilus got away.”

“I thought the Aurora was the one we set to crash into Io,” said another female voice.

“That was the Ikenga,” a man replied, his tone growing dark with sinister amusement as he continued. “Thought you'd remember that one after all the fun we had with her captain.”

There was a round of laughter.

Rip gritted his teeth. They were talking about time ships, boasting about what they'd done to them. Rip might be at odds with the Time Council, but that didn't mean he held any ill will towards the other Time Master captains. Some of them he'd fought beside. A few he'd even considered his friends.

“What about our new acquisitions?” asked the second woman. “Think they'll give up their ship?”

“Let them stew a day or two,” said the man. “If they don't by then, we can have some fun with them too.”

More laughter followed.

At least that explained why he and Snart were still alive, thought Rip, not wanting to think about what the pirates considered fun.

“Not worried about those friends of theirs?” asked the first woman.

There was a loud snort. “The others should have taken care of them by now,” said the man.

Rip's jaw tightened again as he prayed that wasn't true.

One of the pirates made a sound of disgust. It was followed by the sound of something shattering, a bottle, most likely, thrown against a wall. The sound was so sudden and so close it almost made Rip jump. He forced himself to stay still wincing as his already thudding heart beat wildly echoed by a pounding in his head.

“Where are Rach and Moko with that fucking grog?” cried a man's voice, a different one this time.

Rach and Moko must be the pirates they'd tied up, Rip realized. He really hoped the others didn't decide to go looking for them.

Having heard enough and not wanting to leave the injured Snart alone too long, Rip snuck back along the corridor. He found Snart still leaning against the wall where he'd left him.

“There's a least four of them,” Rip whispered as he reached him, "just around a turn in the corridor.”

“Great,” Snart grumbled.

“Please tell me that's not the way we need to go.”

“I could but I don't think you'd appreciate me lying to you.”

Rip gave him an exasperated look. “Is there another way around?”

Snart returned the look with one of his own. “They didn't exactly give me a guided tour of the place,” he said. “We need to find some way of getting them to leave.”

Rip rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he tried to think of a plan. Their current resources were annoyingly limited. He scanned the corridor once more searching for something they could use and took note of the two doors. He left Snart once more and went over and tried them. The first door led, as the overwhelming smell quickly told him, to a small washroom. The pirates were obviously not big on cleanliness or hygiene. The second door led to a staircase going up and down. Rip stared at it thoughtfully and then looked back at the corridor. The entrance to the lift was near the opposite end of the corridor from the one near the pirates. He went over and used the passkey to open it again. Since no one else had summoned the lift, the doors opened quickly. Rip watched, counting the seconds, as they shut.

He knew what to do. He had a plan. It was just a matter of timing.

Snart was watching him with narrowed eyes as he returned. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“Quite possibly,” said Rip.

“Think you’re quick enough?” asked Snart, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess we’ll see.” He took a hold of Snart and began leading him towards the first of the doors, the one that led to the washroom. “But for it to work, I need you to hide in here.”

Snart made a face as the smell hit him. “No, thanks. I think can hold it in until we get back to the Waverider.”

Rip almost growled in frustration. “Snart, will you just...”

Snart waved a hand in the air. “I got it. I got it,” he said. “I hide in here while you go do something stupid and reckless.” He grabbed a hold of the doorway and hopped into the washroom. “You'd better not abandon me here, that's all.”

“I told you before I am not leaving you behind,” Rip replied, tiredly and with complete sincerity. “You'll just have to trust me.”

“Trust goes both ways,” was Snart's pointed reply before he shut the washroom door.

Rip didn't have the time or the energy to decipher Snart's statement. He headed back to where the pirates were gathered. They were arguing again when he reached them, debating what to plunder once they had the Waverider. They sounded fairly drunk which Rip knew could only be to his advantage. His plan counted on him being fast and their reactions being slow. Standing just out of sight, he took a moment to gather himself before sauntering around the corner with an air of casual confidence.

The time pirates didn't even notice him at first giving Rip a chance to quickly appraise them. The room appeared to be some sort of den. The pirates, dressed mainly in dark and tattered leather, were lounging around in an eclectic collection of chairs and sofas apparently gathered from various periods of history. The chairs were arranged around a low coffee table which was covered, along with a good portion of the floor, with a large variety of empty and half-empty bottles, glasses, and containers of food.

Two other important things Rip couldn't help noticing: one, there were five pirates not four, and two, these ones, unlike those below. were armed with blasters.

Taking a deep breath, Rip cleared his throat as loudly as he could.

The pirates stopped arguing and swung their heads towards him. Rip took a fair amount of pleasure at seeing the shock appear in their widening eyes.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he said as if he'd made a simple mistake. “I seem to have taken a wrong turning somewhere.”

He didn't bother giving them anymore time to gather their wits. He immediately turned around and began racing back down the corridor.

Behind him, he heard several shouts, the scraping of chairs, and the shattering of at least one more bottle. He knew it wouldn't be long before there would also be the sound of running feet and firing blasters, but he had already turned back into the main corridor.

He passed the washroom where Snart was hiding. He passed the door leading to the stairs and came to the lift slapping the passkey against the control panel. The moment the doors were open wide enough, he reached his arm through towards the column of buttons and hit the one at the very top. Once that was done, he exited the lift and sprinted down the corridor once more only just making it around the corner when he heard the stampeding of heavy boots. He leaned against the wall breathing heavily and praying he'd got the timing right.

A blaster fired, and for a moment, Rip thought one of the pirates had spotted him turn the corner, but then one of them shouted, “The elevator!”

“He's going up!” cried another.

“Why the hell's he going up?”

“I don't know.”

“Maybe he thinks he can contact his ship from the roof.”

“Fucking Time Master.”

“The stairs, you idiots! The stairs! We can still catch him.”

The sound of a door being yanked open was heard followed by boots pounding up the stairs. The noise slowly died away and Rip let out a loud sigh of relief.

Turning back into the now vacant corridor, he headed for Snart's hiding spot. He'd only taken a few steps though when the world began going in and out of focus and a buzzing started in his ears. He stumbled, but managed to catch himself before he fell. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for the symptoms to pass and they did. He continued on down the corridor and had almost reached the room where Snart was hiding when it happened again. He grabbed hold of the wall for support.

Apparently running with a concussion had not been a great idea.

The door to the washroom opened and Snart peered out. “I heard you lead our pirates on a merry chase,” he said. “They'll be back soon though and pretty pissed off when they realize what you've done.”

“Well,” said Rip, somewhat breathlessly as he leaned against the wall. “Hopefully, they'll also be rather tired out from running up ten flights of stairs.”

Snart frowned at Rip, and then using the wall as support, hopped over to where he stood. “No, you don't,” he said. “Not again. Don't you dare pass out now.”

Rip gave a humourless chuckle. “I might not have much of a choice.” The world was still blurring in and out, and the pain in his head was reaching a peak. Knees weakening, he began to pitch forward but Snart caught him and held him up.

“Yeah, well, I'm not giving you a choice either,” Leonard countered, hands clutching tightly to the front of Rip's shirt. “Come on, you little cutpurse. I need you to get me out of here.”

Rip was hunched over, eyes squeezed shut as the pain in his head became all-encompassing and things around him threatened to fade away, but he heard what Snart said and somewhere in the depths of himself found the strength to grind out, slowly and deliberately, “Don't call me that.”

“Why not? It's the truth,” said Snart. “We've already established you're no hero. Not that I didn't already know that. I've met heroes and you're nothing compared with them.”

Rip slowly opened his eyes and glared up at Snart. “Sorry," he said. "I wasn't aware this was a competition."

Snart sneered back at him. “If it was, you'd come in last. You're way too selfish to be a hero.”

“If you call fighting to save my family selfish, then, yes, I suppose I am,” Rip declared wishing he knew what the hell Snart wanted from him.

“At the expense of everyone else including your own crew,” Snart pointed out. “Why don't you just admit the truth? You're a thieving crook and a selfish bastard just like me.”

Rip pushed himself away from Snart, standing up straight once more. “I am not like you,” he snapped. “Yes, I admit it. I'm no hero. I've done horrible things in my past. I've made decisions based on cold calculations instead of the goodness of my heart and I may very well go to hell for some of my actions, but I am not like you, Mr. Snart, and you know why? Because I care about something other than myself. I care about keeping the world and the timeline safe. I care about my family, and though you may not believe it, I care about my crew.” He took a deep breath unable to stop as the words continued to pour out of him. “And I'm not like you because despite my dark past, I am trying to be a better person. I am trying to do the right thing. I may not always succeed, but at least, I'm trying. And... and...”

Something finally made Rip's tirade draw to a halt. It was the way Snart was looking at him. He couldn’t quite decipher the expression, but it wasn't one you'd expect from someone who was getting yelled at. Snart seemed almost... relieved. Frowning, Rip thought back over recent events and things slowly clicked into place in his concussion muddied mind.

“You're... you're doing this on purpose,” he said with disbelief.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Snart replied, dismissively.

Rip felt like kicking himself for not figuring things out sooner. “This whole bleeding time you've been badgering me, trying to provoke me, make me angry.” He shook his head. “And you've been doing it on purpose, riling me up in order to keep me conscious.”

Leonard inclined his head. “Would I seriously do a thing like that?” he said, his attempt at an innocent tone ruined by the glimmer of amusement in his eyes and the small twitch at the corner of his lips.

Rip stared at him in shock unable to decide if he should be grateful or infuriated. The world seemed to have shifted under his feet and this time the concussion wasn’t to blame. He had thought he was the one desperately trying to help an ungrateful, injured teammate. Now it seemed like it was the other way around.

“Well, it's working, isn't it?” Snart said with a shrug. "Adrenaline is a wonderful thing."

“I thought you were just being a pain in the ass,” said Rip, shaking his head again.

Snart's lips spread into a familiar smirk. “I didn’t say I wasn't enjoying it,” he said. “And now since you’re no longer about to keel over, how about we get out of here before those pirates get back.

Rip wanted to say more but Leonard was right. The pirates would be back soon and they needed to get their weapons and get out of there as soon as possible. Rip wrapped his arm around Snart and began helping him down the corridor. They were actually getting fairly good at their unusual, lopsided walk and dropped naturally back into the rhythm of it, Rip supporting Snart's weight as he hopped along. They were able to move much more quickly than they had at the start and made it through the corridor and into the little lounge area without any sight or sound of the pirates.

The time pirate's den seemed even messier without its former occupants. They had obviously scattered more than a few of their bottles and half-finished drinks in their haste to retrieve their escaped prisoner. Now that Rip had a chance to get a better look at the room, he noticed that it contained three doors leading out to the rest of the building.

“That's the way out,” said Snart gesturing to the door ahead of them. “And that's where the guy went with our weapons,” he added gesturing to the door on the right.

It was tempting to make straight for the exit, but if the pirates caught up with them or if, as was very likely, the exit was guarded, they were dead.

Rip tugged Snart towards the right and the man followed along.

Upon opening the door, Rip had really been hoping to find an armoury with not only their weapons but a few convenient extras to help them with the pirates, like maybe a grenade or two. What they found was some sort of workshop. Tools and bits of machinery covered everything including several shelves, some workbenches, the floor, and the walls. There was even some hanging from the ceiling. Apparently, the pirates exercised the same attitude to cleanliness there as they did everywhere else.

Both Rip and Snart scanned the room for any sign of their weapons. It was Snart who first spotted the lamentable sight.

“Those fucking bastards,” he exclaimed.

Rip followed his gaze and saw the Coldgun. It sat on a cleared space on one of the workbenches in several pieces.

They went over and Snart began going over the parts, scowling the entire time. “Idiots," he cursed again.

“Is it damaged?” Rip asked as he gazed about the room, hoping to spot his revolver, hoping that unlike the Coldgun it would still be intact.

“I don't think so,” said Snart as he began slotting the pieces back together. “I think they just took it apart to see how it works.”

Rip watched him admiring how deftly his fingers moved as he fixed the weapon. “Think you can put it back together before the pirates get back?”

“Maybe," Leonard said with a shrug. "Depends on how fast they are.”

“Oh, we're pretty fast,” said a rough voice from behind them.

Abandoning the dismembered Coldgun, they spun around, eyes wide with alarm.

Suddenly, Rip knew exactly where his revolver was. “Bollocks," he sighed.


Chapter 4
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