Chapter Text
“How much time do we have before we leave?” Winn asked Mon-El as they approached the Legion ship. As excited as he was to actually see the future (specifically how his design had ended up working), right now his heart was heavy with the knowledge that, in just under six hours, he’d be in a totally different century than his friends, or more appropriately, his family. There’d be no more game nights at Kara’s, no late-night Guardianing with James, no hangouts at Al’s with his fellow analysts or the rest of the Superfriends. The only people he’d know in the future would be Mon-El, who he actually liked; Imra, who he hardly knew, but they’d fixed the Legion ship together and she had helped save his life, so she couldn’t be that bad; and maybe J’onn, though Mon-El said he couldn’t confirm or deny that until they were actually in the future.
“Not long,” Mon-El said, not looking up from his watch where he was paging through some sort of data flow. “Imra is running the flight checks now.”
“But like, in measurable units, how long is that?”
“Ten minutes, maybe?” Now Mon-El looked over at Winn in curiosity. “Why?”
Winn pulled in a deep breath as he looked around the corridor, stalling while his brain struggled to string together his thoughts. “I think I need to say goodbye to my mom,” he finally said. “That’s weird, though, right? Like, we barely know each other. It’s only been a few weeks since I found out she wasn’t dead, and we’ve only talked on the phone, like, twice.” He took a deep breath as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “We’ve been on our own for twenty years, so it shouldn’t matter if I just go, right?”
“Winn. Hey.” Mon-El reached out and clasped Winn’s shoulder. “If you think this is something you need to do, go. We can wait an hour.”
“Thank you.” With that, Winn slipped out of Mon-El’s grip and headed back to the DEO to find someone to fly him to Chicago.
“Thanks for the lift,” Winn said to Kara, once she’d landed beside him on the cracked sidewalk. She was still dressed in the suit she’d been wearing when they’d said their goodbyes, the suit he’d made her three years ago, with the sewing machine he’d borrowed from his neighbor and the Kevlar-esque material from the dark web. If he’d had more notice about his move to the future, Winn could have designed her a new suit to last the next few years with the fancy tech available at the DEO. Yet somehow, there hadn’t been time or a reason to, given how well the original was holding up.
“It’s the least I can do,” Kara said, drawing Winn back to the present. Then she turned on her heel to face the house they’d landed in front of. “This is it?”
Winn nodded, then shrugged. “This is the address she gave me.”
The house was small and not in the best neighborhood, but it was kept up well enough. The windows were clean, the roof in one piece, and the porch rail devoid of any spiderwebs.
“Want me to come with you?”
Yes.
“No,” he replied, “but thank you.”
“Okay.” Fortunately, Kara didn’t look as disappointed as Winn thought she might. She smiled warmly at him then hovered about six feet in the air. “Call me when you’re done,” she said before flying away.
Alone once again, Winn straightened his shoulders, scaled the steps, and crossed the slightly rickety porch. He paused there, outside the security door, took another steeling breath then knocked on the frame.
“Coming!” his mom’s voice shrilled from inside. Winn heard her footsteps approaching and quickly ran his hands through his hair to tame the windblown look he was definitely rocking. As Mary fumbled with at least three separate locks, Winn tugged down the hem of his half-zip and straightened it over his shoulders.
The inner wooden door opened a few inches and Mary peered out.
“Winn!” she breathed, quickly unlocking the security door and flinging it open. Winn barely stepped back in time to avoid being hit by it.
“How are you? Are you okay?” Mary scanned the area behind him suspiciously. “Are you in trouble? Is it Jacqueline?”
“No, mom. I’m fine. I just… I just need to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Mary stepped back from the doorway and made a flourish with her hand. “Then come on in.”
The inside of Mary’s house was much like the outside: small, but clean. The door opened into the living room, with a dining room adjacent and a kitchen behind it. A small hallway disappeared off to the left where Winn could see the doors to a bedroom and bathroom. The décor was cozy but not grand: blankets were draped on the couch and loveseat, a doily covered the middle of the glass coffee table, and a few nature prints were hung on the walls.
“Your place is nice,” he said, when he was finished looking around.
“Thank you.” As she spoke, Mary made a shooing motion with her hands to usher him further into the house. “It’s a long way from National City. You must be thirsty.”
“Water would be great.”
Mary nodded then disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Winn hovering awkwardly in the dining room until she returned. Upon finding him still standing, Mary gestured at one of the empty chairs around the small dining room table, placed one of the two water bottles she'd fetched in front of it, and said, "Sit, sit!" while taking a seat herself.
As he did so, Winn caught a glimpse of a framed picture on the china cabinet base behind him. It was of him and Mary from at least twenty-five years ago. They were both standing on the ground, but Mary had bent over slightly to wrap Winn in a tight hug from behind. She was leaning forward so their cheeks were pressed together, and little Winn was smiling so widely his eyes were scrunched closed.
“That’s my favorite picture of us,” Mary said.
Winn had no recollection of that picture being taken, but the happiness that was emanating from it was causing a lump to form in his throat. He cleared it loudly and shifted his gaze to the only other framed photo. It was much more recent, of Mary and a man who seemed to be about her age.
“Who’s he?” he asked, looking back at his mom.
“His name is Paul,” she said, picking absently at the label of her water bottle. “He works at Ace Hardware downtown. He’s divorced. Has two kids about your age.” She put the bottle aside. “I should have told you sooner, I know, but there never was the right—”
“Are you happy?” Winn interrupted. That was really all that mattered. After all they’d been through, together and separately, it was actually the only thing that mattered.
Mary’s response was instantaneous. “Yeah, Winn, I am.”
“Good,” he replied, feeling a small weight lift off his shoulders. His mom had Paul, Paul with two kids and a job at Ace Hardware. She had someone who made her happy. She wouldn’t be alone after he left.
To the future. In a complete reversal of his new revelation, a lump once again formed in Winn's throat and he felt wetness begin to build behind his eyes. He bit down on the corner of his tongue to try to get it to stop. He was not about to break down here, in his mom's house, in front of the pictures of little him and Mary’s new boyfriend.
Thankfully, the pain radiating through his tongue seemed to do the trick, but in that time that had passed, Mary had rounded the table and was now seated on the chair next to him. “You’re scaring me,” she said softly, staring at Winn with eyes that, even after all these years, could see right into his soul. “Are you okay?”
Winn nodded then looked back at the photos if for no other reason than to get away from Mary’s scrutinizing glance. “Yeah, I just… it’s just…” It was as good a time as any to drop the news, so he turned back to her and said, “Mom, I have this really great opportunity, for my career and my life, and I…” he swallowed hard. “And I’m going to take it.”
Mary frowned slightly. “If it’s so great, why do you look so sad?”
“Because…” Winn dragged his head in a vertical circle, trying to make the next words out of his mouth sound less insane. Coming up with no way to achieve that, he just went for it. “It’s in the future.”
He risked a glance over at Mary, who was staring at him in a combination of shock and disbelief. “The future?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. Apparently, in the future, they need my help. And I didn’t think I was qualified cos the problem,” he held out his hands, palms to the ceiling, and let out a soft whistle, “it’s way beyond what I know here. But…” Winn quickly pulled the plastic-encased design out of his jacket pocket and slid it over to Mary. “This is something I’ve been messing with for a while. I haven’t figured it out quite yet, but apparently…” He took another deep breath, almost unable to believe what he was going to say next. “Apparently it’s groundbreaking and it saves a lot of lives.” His throat tightened again, unbidden, and he had to swallow hard to continue. “I guess someone else figures it out, actually, but somehow I still get credited for it.” He pointed at the design. “That’s from the National Archives in the 31st century.”
“Oh, Winn,” Mary said, barely more than a breath. Then she was leaning forward and hugging him. Originally taken aback, Winn froze, but as he realized what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her.
“You were always such a special kid,” she said, her voice rough with unshed tears. “So smart. Light-years above your peers. Your elementary school only let you skip one grade, otherwise you could have graduated even earlier.” She pulled back so she could see his face, then gently rested her hands on his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you, Winn. For becoming the man you have. That’s all you and your fight and your kind heart. I’m not at all surprised that your work so positively impacts the future.”
Winn hadn’t cried in years: not when his father had tried to kill him, not when he’d stared down the barrel of a gun held by a criminal, not when he’d been dying from Pestilence, and not when his omnidirectional shield couldn’t save Demos. But now, despite the way he was gnawing on the side of his tongue, upon hearing everything a scared little foster kid whose father had killed half a dozen people and his mother had abandoned, had ever wanted to hear—that he was important, that he mattered, that he’d broken the cycle and not turned into his father—the tears began to fall.
He desperately tried to swipe them away, but was intercepted by Mary who leaned forward, pulled him into another hug and squeezed him tightly.
“I should have told you sooner,” she mumbled, and as close together as they were, Winn felt Mary’s own tears dripping down the side of his face. “You deserved to know how special you are. How proud I am of you.” She pulled in a shaky breath. “I just wish I’d gotten a chance to know you better.”
“Me too, Mom.” Winn soaked up the hug for another moment, then pulled away. As he sat back in his chair, he sucked in a deep breath and scrubbed his hands under his eyes, mentally instructing his brain to stop manufacturing more tears; he’d had enough of them today, thanks. “But about that. I have something for you.”
He grabbed his design and slid it back in his jacket, swapping it for Brainy’s jar of dirt, which he handed over.
“Dirt?” Mary questioned, turning the jar over in her hands.
Winn couldn’t help but smile at her confused expression. “Future dirt. From the 31st century. Which is cool in itself and all, but this specific jar has a bug in it. The electronic kind,” he was quick to clarify. “That can be heard from the future.”
At this, Mary looked up sharply.
“I can’t answer back, but, if you wanted…” Winn trailed off with a shrug.
Mary reached out and grabbed Winn’s outstretched hand. “I want it. Thank you, Winn.” She gave the jar of space dirt one more look then put it on the table. Letting her hands fall back into her lap, she asked, “Now, when do you leave for the future?”
Winn glanced down at his watch and saw that, factoring in the flight back to National City, his allotted time was almost up. “Now, pretty much.”
Mary’s face fell, but before Winn could fire off an assurance, she was on her feet and walking into the kitchen, where she fetched a box of Kleenex, hand sanitizer and a waste basket. “Up, up, up,” she said, making the motion with her filled hands. “You can’t go to the future looking like that, and we can’t have you missing your flight!” She paused. “Is it a flight right?”
“Yes.” Pulling a Kleenex from the proffered box, Winn blew his nose and lobbed the tissue into the trash can. “And you know you can’t tell anyone about this, right? I broke, like, eight official orders just coming here to tell you.”
“Winn, I promise I won’t say a word,” Mary said, crossing the first two fingers of her right hand for good measure. Then, as Winn sanitized his hands, she eyed the jar of dirt again. “How long do the batteries last in that thing?”
Now it was Winn’s turn to pause. “I… honestly have no idea. But if they ever go out, you can call the DEO, and ask for Brainy. He can fix it.”
Mary nodded sadly, for a reason Winn didn’t immediately understand. When he did, he felt almost worse because he couldn’t offer any reassurances about if or when he’d be back.
“I’m gonna miss you,” was all he said.
“Me too.” Mary pulled her top lip through her teeth, then said, “But you have to go! You can’t be late on my account. The future needs you!”
“Okay, mom.” As Winn turned to do just that, his eye caught the twenty-some-year-old photograph of him and his mom. For the last day since he’d decided to leave, he’d been snapping as many pictures as he could manage, of the DEO, of his friends, some posed, some candid, all of which would be going with him to the future, along with his things and every historical book he could find on such short notice. Winn hadn’t planned on taking a picture with his mom, but at that moment, it didn’t seem like he could leave without one.
“Just… one more thing,” Winn pulled out his phone and activated the front-facing camera. “We need a new picture. That one over there can’t be the last one of the two of us.”
Mary’s hands flew to her face, rubbing under her eyes then over her hair, as she frantically shook her head. She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it and nodded, as the weight of his words sunk in.
“You should have taken it before we both started crying,” she grumbled, as she stood next to Winn and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, interlacing her fingers on the other side. Then she leaned in, so their faces were almost touching, and when they were both smiling, Winn snapped a handful of shots. Both their eyes were a little swollen still, but in the backlight from the kitchen, it was hardly noticeable.
“See,” Winn said, holding his phone out to Mary. “You look great.”
Mary stared at the photos critically then looked up at Winn again and nodded, her eyes misting slightly. “Thank you.”
“I’ll text it to you,” Winn promised as he felt his emotions threaten to return. “So you can put it up.”
“I will. Now go,” she said, waving at the door, “for real this time. I don't want you to be late.”
“Okay.” His piece said, Winn had every intention of walking straight out of his mom's house, but the closer he got, the more strongly he felt something pulling him back. He paused with his hand on the door handle, looked over his shoulder and said, “I love you, mom.”
Tears began falling from Mary’s eyes yet again as she replied, “I love you too, my special, special boy.”
As the door closed behind Winn, Mary added, softly, to herself, “My protector of the future.”
“Kara,” Winn called, once he was standing on the sidewalk outside his mom’s house. "I'm done. Come get me."
In the time it took for him to text the slew of photographs to his mom, a red and blue blur whooshed to a stop in front of him. Kara was breathing hard and smelled vaguely of smoke.
“How did it go?” she asked as she waved her hand in front of her face to dispel a grey cloud.
“Fine,” Winn said, drawing out the last syllable. “Did you have fun while I was in there?”
“Stopped two bank robberies and a multi-car pile-up,” Kara said proudly.
“Making you a states-wide hero now.” Winn was shooting for an easy quip, but his attempt fell woefully short.
Kara noticed, because of course she did, and stepped slightly closer. “Was it really okay?”
“Yeah… I promise.” Winn took one last look at his mom’s house and asked, “Can we go back to National City now?”
Kara nodded, wrapped her arms around Winn, then took off into the air.
Once on the Legion ship, Winn found Brainy configuring a holographic something from his-soon-to-no-longer-be-his chair. Mon-El and Imra were nowhere to be found.
“I never did thank you for bugging that jar of dirt,” Winn said, startling Brainy out of his work.
Brainy's brow furrowed. “That was… not the reaction I was expecting. My calculations had it at 96% certainty that you were going to be upset.”
Winn walked over to Brainy’s chair and poked at the hologram, causing it to flash red. Brainy shot Winn a sour look then slammed his palm down through the hologram to make it disappear.
“I gave it to my mom,” Winn then said, before Brainy could speak. “The dirt. So she has a piece of me here.”
Brainy stood, turned a crisp 45°, then laid one hand on Winn’s shoulder. “That was very honorable of you.”
“It felt like the right thing to do.” Winn made a clicking sound with his tongue then asked, “Also, hey, how long do the batteries in that jar of dirt last?”
“Hundreds of years. Future power is extremely efficient.”
“Oh.”
Brainy didn’t understand a lot of the 21st century, emotionally or otherwise, but somehow, this he picked up on right away. “However, if you’d like it to require some maintenance in a few years, that can be arranged.”
Winn stared at him in surprise. “You can do that? Wait, wait, I can do that?”
Brainy nodded, his fingers steepling in front of his chest. “As long as you don’t disturb too much or stay too long, it is possible to return as often as triannually in times of peace.”
Winn had trouble getting his mouth to work. He could come back. He could see his friends. This goodbye wasn't permanent. “Th—tha—thank you. I’d like that,” he finally stuttered out.
Nodding, Brainy looked around the ship one last time. Then, he stepped back so Winn had clear access to his old (new) chair. “It sticks a little, going into hyperdrive. Ease up a little when you hear it start to rattle and you’ll be fine.”
“Copy that.” Then, possessed by the spirit of the moment, Winn turned around and hugged Brainy, who was as stiff as a board in his grip. “Take care of them, okay?”
Brainy nodded into Winn’s shoulder as his arms slowly came to wrap around Winn. “Always.”
Just as they pulled away, Mon-El stepped out of the nearest corridor. “Are you ready, Winn?”
Winn took a long look, not dissimilar to the one Brainy had just taken, around his new home for the near future and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”