Author's Note: When Doyle sacrificed himself on Angel, I lost my mind a little bit. So I wrote a short story (Just a Messenger) and a novella (Close to Home . . . .— a crossover with Buffy The Vampire Slayer) which left Doyle alive in the little place in my head where fictional characters exist. It was my therapy and it was effective. When Call of Duty: Ghosts ended the way it did with the reality being very likely there will NOT be a Call of Duty: Ghosts 2 ever, I had to write my own story to resolve the cliffhanger they set up at the end of the game (Philippe de la Matraque's More Than a Ghost). So there's a trend here. I started watching Legends of Tomorrow with my husband and got hooked on Snart. Then I watched the Flash and got to see how he started. Didn't turn me off him. I mourned. I actually cried when Snart died at the end of Season 1. I was annoyed how little he seemed to matter to everyone in Season 2. But this story started nagging me in the quiet moments of my life. I have other stories to write. I have to get this one out so I can get back to my other stories in the works. It'll be my therapy as before. I hope you enjoy it, too.

This story is set directly after second season finale. I had not seen Season 3 yet as I started to write it. Some of the first couple of episodes may come in to play, but mostly not. I plan going my own way from the end from maybe the first episode of Season 3.

DC's Legends of Tomorrow

Perchance to Dream
by Gabrielle Lawson

Prologue

Captain Eve Baxter finished the last of the Acheron's repairs and stood up to stretch her tired muscles. Maybe Rip Hunter had had the right idea with having a crew. She could have used a few extra hands. As it was she'd been working alone with only Gilbert for company. Well, and Jon Valor in her brig. She normally didn't mind being alone, but she was normally off saving the time line or catching pirates. She wasn't just stuck in deep space repairing her ship with no other human to talk to besides her prisoner.

Captain Baxter returned to the bridge and asked Gilbert to confirm the repairs were finished.

"We are fully operational again, ma'am," the AI replied.

"Good, open a channel to the High Council. Let them know we're bringing in—"

Gilbert interrupted her. "We're receiving an urgent message from the High Council. All timeships are ordered to return and defend the Vanishing Point."

Eve hurried to her chair. "Set course, Gilbert. Maximum capacity." She pushed the lever forward and shot into the time stream at full speed. The Acheron was the flagship, arguably the fastest vessel in the fleet. It only took a few minutes for her to drop out of the time stream. She tried hailing the Council but a large explosion rocked the Acheron even at a distance. New explosions filled the periphery as the fire spread to every corner of the Vanishing Point. She piloted her ship straight toward the Oculus, oblivious to everything else. Only the Wellspring could have made such a blast. "Where are the other captains?" she asked, as she scanned the area. There were no other timeships defending the area.

"There are twenty timeships adrift in various stages of destruction," Gilbert reported. "No heat signatures. Though I did note the Waverider speeding away just before the blast."

Hunter! What had he done? She landed as close to the Wellspring as she could. There were charred bodies all around as she exited the vehicle. The closest one was moving, quivering rather. She ran to it. Whoever it had been was struggling to breathe, blood spilling out onto a blackened chin. It appeared to be a man. He was missing most of his left arm and parts of his other limbs. He was dying. "Gilbert, prepare for emergency stasis."

She took a deep breath and slid her arms under the shoulders of the poor man and dragged him back up the ramp into her ship. She could really use a crew now. "Damn it, Hunter," she cursed. "Why?" She worried at first about the pain she might be causing this man, but she had to hurry. He didn't have long. Finally she maneuvered him into the chair in the medbay and touched the panel. The blood stopped, the quivering stopped. The man was still.

"Gilbert, status?"

"Male in his mid-forties. Alive but in critical condition. There is more damage here than we can manage on the Acheron. I recommend continuing stasis until we can get him to a higher level of care."

Eve sighed. He was alive. That was enough for now. "I'm going to see if there are others."

That day she cried more than she had in years. Body after body. The Wellspring was in ruins. The Oculus was gone. But she was still here and she needed to eat. Her prisoner needed to eat. She washed her hands and replicated two meals, then she went to the brig.


"Whoa," Jon Valor sneered, taking in her bedraggled and, quite frankly, filthy appearance. "You've seen better days."

She just looked at him. Then she set down her tray and pulled her gun. "Step back." There was no emotion to her voice. Something bad had happened.

He did as she commanded. They'd played this routine out so many times before. He'd tried rushing her once. But she shot him in the arm, and he behaved after that. She opened the doors, set his tray down, and closed them again. She just stood there for a few moments. Had she been crying?

Valor moved toward his tray and sat down. She finally stepped back and slid down the wall, dropping the gun beside her.

"I'm surprised," he told her. "I know we landed. So why am I still in here? I thought you were going to turn me in."

"I can't," she said, deadpan still. Like she was in shock.

Valor set down his fork. "What do you mean, you can't?"

"It's gone."

"What's gone?"

"Everything.

He pushed the tray aside. "What happened, Eve?" He had felt the ship get rocked by something.

A tear rolled down her already tear-stained cheek. "The Vanishing Point is destroyed. I found one. One survivor."

"Well, what does your one survivor say?"

"He can't say anything. He's in stasis. He was on his way out."

That explained the filthy clothes. This might be a good thing, he thought. No Time Council, no justice. She had to let him go. Eventually. He could manage that, though it was incredibly boring in a timeship brig. He'd keep her talking, make friends. Heck, she wasn't unattractive even. Well, most days. Today she was hideous. Given time, she'd grow to trust him. Maybe she'd even join him. If the Time Masters were no more, she'd make one hell of a pirate.