LoT/CC Fic: “Odyssey” (Chapter 4)
@stillthewordgirl and I are delighted to present Chapter 4 of Odyssey.
“Interesting place,” Leonard observed sardonically, leaning on the rail as he gazed out at the makeshift wharves and the slapdash boardwalks that connected them to the shore.
“How is this place still standing after the storm season?” Amaya wondered, from where she leaned next to him.
“Martin!” Sara called, straightening from her own position at the rail as she watched the professor emerge from belowdecks and look around for the others.
“Yes, ma’am…oh…dear…” his voice trailed off at the sight of a couple of giggling working girls strolling the boardwalk.
“That would be why I’d like you to keep Sin belowdecks,” Sara replied, amusement in her voice. “There are questions I’m not prepared to answer just yet…and neither are you, I’d wager.”
“That, and the fact that the entire place is a firetrap,” Leonard added helpfully.
“It stinks,” Mick observed.
“Duly noted,” Sara snapped, having heard variations on these observations for a while now. “We’re not here for shore leave. We get some information, and we get out again. No one is to leave the ship alone. In fact, no one is to leave the ship without my express permission. Is that clear?”
There was a hail from the rickety wharf, and assorted hands reached for various concealed weapons. Turning, Sara could see a small crowd gathered on the shore, watching as a single man approached the ship.
The man on the dock waved a grubby bit of white cloth. “Monsieur le capitaine?” he called, glancing uncertainly at the group at the rail.
Leonard jerked his chin towards Sara. “Madame la capitaine.”
There was a stream of rapid-fire French.
“I didn’t quite catch all of that,” Leonard admitted.
“He wants to know if this is the ship that burned The Deathstroke,” Martin supplied helpfully.
“Oui!” Sara shouted back.
To their surprise, the sailor on the dock swept off his hat and bowed rather floridly. “Qu'est-ce que vous voulez?”
“Martin, tell him we’re looking for information about a ship called The Stroke of Luck, and a passenger she might have picked up,” Sara instructed.
Martin spoke to the man for a minute or two, then listened intently. “He says that was years ago.”
“I know.” Sara’s tone was dry. “I’m still interested.”
Martin conveyed that information, then awaited a response. “He suggests we try -”
“The tavern,” Sara, Leonard, and Mick said in unison.
“The tavern,” Martin repeated, rolling his eyes with resignation.
“Merci, monsieur,” Sara called to the fellow on the dock.
He bowed again, and departed to spread the happy news that The Canary was not there to kill them all. Sara found it a bit amusing to be on that side of that particular discussion.
“So, I guess we’re visiting the local pub,” Leonard said, stepping away from the rail.
“Really?” the scholar replied faintly. “Surely, Master Snart -”
“Master Snart doesn’t speak French nearly as well as you,” Sara replied, in a tone that brooked no argument. “The rest of you, stay out of trouble. I don’t care how friendly the locals seem right now, I want two on watch at all times, armed.”
Leonard caught Sara’s arm as she moved to depart the ship. “Be careful.”
She favored him with a lopsided smirk. “Always.”
“Where are you going?” Mick demanded, looking up from a conversation with Jefferson, just as Snart, looking far too nonchalant to not be up to something, sauntered toward the gangplank of the ship.
“Just stretching my legs,” his friend said casually, slowing just a little. “Maybe pick up a little information.”
“You’re just looking for a card game,” Jefferson accused, sounding a little amused.
“Perhaps,” Snart replied with a half-shrug, pausing to look at him. “I could use a bit of a challenge. Besides, people tend not to pay attention to their words when they’re focused on their cards.”
“Cap’n said -” Mick began.
“To stay out of trouble.”
Mick just shook his head. “Fine. Whatever. You get to explain any messes to her.”
Mick was still on watch when Snart returned, whistling tunelessly. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he commented.
“Funny you should phrase it that way,” Snart replied, pausing, with a very particular gleam in his eye. “Tell, me Mick…how long has it been since we planned a heist?”
“We?” Mick shrugged and eyed him, sensing trouble in the making. “It’s always been you to make the plans. I ain’t got the brains for that. An’ besides, the cap’n said -”
“To stay out of trouble. Yes, I know. I was there.” Snart absently pulled a sparkling pendant from his pocket and studied it.
“It’s glass,” Snart said with a shrug, as he watched it swing and reflect the light.
“It’s the same color as her eyes,” Mick said with a sly smile.
“I noticed.” There was a certain energy that Snart exuded when he was plotting something. He was exuding it now, in spades, as he spun to face his old friend. “What’s the biggest thing we ever stole?”
“I dunno. The Maximillian emerald, maybe, but that was your heist.”
“I don’t mean big as in valuable. I mean big as in…big.”
“Snart…you know the cap’n’s views on thieving. What are you up to?”
“I didn’t steal this,” Snart protested, tucking the shiny trinket back into his pocket. “I won it in a card game. And besides, what I’ve got in mind isn’t so much stealing as …liberating. And the best part is - no one gets hurt. So - are you in or are you out?”
The big man sighed. “Sara’ll kill me herself if I let anything happen to you.”
“I knew you’d see it my way.”
Mick got Jax to stand watch–the younger man just shook his head, uttering a sing-song “Captain’s gonna be angry!” Then, against his better judgement, he followed his oldest friend off the ship, heading toward the market.
Snart, with that finely tuned sense of direction of his, wove his way through the narrow streets and, then, the market stalls until he stopped dead in his tracks, lifting an arm to stop Mick, too.
Mick looked, and his jaw dropped open.
It was somewhat later, after almost all of the market stalls had shut down, and the purveyors of that particular stall had repaired to a particular tavern not so far away. They’d all gotten a couple tankards of ale in them, and were just starting to look around for more exciting activities when a tall man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair stepped in front of their table.
He eyed them, and then waved a deck of cards.
“You folks look like you might appreciate a game,” he said smoothly. “Any interest? My friend and I are … bored.”
“You were cheating, weren’t ya?”
“I knew it. No un’s that lucky, not even you. Whadja do? Somethin’ up your sleeve…”
A muted “rowr” interrupted him.
Mick and Snart had just about managed to maneuver their burden onto the deck, when Sara stepped out of the shadows.
“You know,” she observed conversationally, “for someone who’s so worried about me getting enough sleep, you’re certainly wreaking a lot of havoc on my ship in the dead of night.” She stepped all the way out onto the deck. “What is that?” she demanded, hearing something moving beneath the canvas they’d tossed over…whatever it was that they were carrying.
“Er…well…” Mick stammered.
Sara shot him a look, then grabbed the edge of the canvas, revealing the gangly, half-grown tiger inside the crude wooden cage. “Oh my god. Where did you…? How did you…? What were you thinking?”
“It’s a tiger,” Leonard said helpfully, lowering his burden to the deck. Damn cat was heavy.
“I can see that. What I want to know is, what is it doing on my ship?”
“Well,” he prevaricated, smiling at her in what he hoped was an ingratiating manner. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to. “You did say you’d take me to see some tigers.”
“I did. I will. But where…?” She leaned in and sniffed critically. “Are you drunk?”
“Don’t think so,” Leonard replied glibly. He knew pretty damned well he’d had more than his usual limit. But he’d needed to keep the crew playing and eager… and betting.
“You’re worse than Sin, the pair of you!” Sara shook her head at them. “That thing will eat us out of house and home! Hell, it might eat us!”
“It ain’t that big,” Mick offered with drunken insightfulness. Mick had had a lot more than him. “Besides, it’s a cat. We’re on a boat. We’ll catch fishes for it!”
“Come on, Sara,” Leonard wheedled. He may have batted his eyelashes, though he’d never admit to it. “Look at him. He doesn’t belong in a cage! We can take him to one of those islands and turn him loose!”
Sara squeezed her eyes shut against an incipient headache. “Generally, crew members who don’t fancy being marooned, or fed to the sharks, consult with their captain before pulling a stunt like this.”
Leonard hadn’t had nearly as much to drink as Mick, and he had enough sense to realize that Sara was ramping up to full voice. He wasn’t sure his head was up to that.
“Where did you get it?” she continued. “Is someone going to come looking for it?”
“Well,” Leonard began thoughtfully, “we might want to -”
An arrow thunked into the deck just short of his toes.
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