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The first thing that Behrad notices after they’ve passed through that wave of light is that everything is bigger. Not quite as big as everything is when you get shrink-Ray-ed, but big enough that the console is now above his eyeline, which is not something he’s used to at his height. Then, he tries to stretch upwards to see through the window and places a hand on the console, and tries very, very hard to come up with any explanation as to why instead of hands, he has paws .
Faintly, he hears Charlie say something, but he can’t quite get past the paws that are where his hands should be. Behrad tries to call for Charlie, to get her over here so they can figure out what’s going on, but all that comes out is a feeble little meow. This isn’t a hallucination-- he hasn’t smoked at all today, and he’s pretty sure that they’ve locked up Nate’s old lyoga root stash for good by now, so the only explanation is that whatever John did when he fixed his relationship with Desmond somehow turned Behrad into a cat.
And then, Charlie’s grinning face comes into view, from above, and much larger than he’s used to. The grin slides off of their face, which would have been funny if he wasn’t a cat .
“Behrad?!” They gasp. He meows. “What the hell…”
He tries to say my words exactly , but it just sounds pathetic, and he just watches helplessly as Charlie wipes a hand down her face and starts pacing.
“Constantine did it! He changed the timeline back in New Orleans, and saved ol’ Des!” Charlie laughs, then sighs, leaning onto Behrad’s now-oversized chair. “Unfortunately, I have no idea why you’re a cat now, B.”
This isn’t funny , he tries to meow, standing on his hind legs to bat at their hand, and hoping that the scowl he’s trying to make translates across feline features.
“Actually, it kind of is, from up here-- oh, quit your whinging,” she says when he swats at her hand again. Somehow it seems like they can understand his meows, and at this point he’s not going to bother questioning how or why-- it must be like when the fairy godmother turned Ray into a pig; Nate had mentioned understanding the oinks. She makes her way around the chair to crouch down enough so that they’re eye-to-eye. “I know it’s a pretty raw deal for you. Especially ‘cause, well, who knows what they put in cat food.”
Behrad makes an unhappy noise at that. Maybe they can figure out a cat-friendly kitchen. Or at least the fabricator.
“On the plus side, you are cute as hell.” Charlie coos, reaching out a hand to scratch at his head, right between the ears. It’s a little bit embarrassing, how nice that feels, but he figures he’s allowed to have this for a moment because he’s literally a cat, and cats like to have their heads scratched, so he leans into their fingers and lets out the light purr building up in his chest. Charlie laughs, stopping the fond scratches and picks him up, one hand under each of his front legs, leaving the rest of him dangling below. It’s still weird , and he doesn’t like the feeling of being picked up like a doll, especially not the part where she sort of raises and lowers him for emphasis as she declares, “B, it has been… an experience.
“Now, I’m gonna set the autopilot to take you back to the Waverider,” they take a seat in Behrad’s chair, gathering him up onto their lap and petting idly at his fur, “but first, we’re going to drop me off somewhere fabulous.”
You can’t leave me like this, he protests glaring up at her, I can’t open doors .
“You’ll be fine. They’ll need the jumpship eventually,” Charlie says, tapping away at the console. “And if they don’t, I’m sure they’ll go looking for you at dinnertime and hear you meowing. Besides, there’s nothing you can do to stop me, is there?”
Her voice lilts into a coo as she gives his head another firm scratch, and he squirms away from it, hissing. Maybe I just don’t want you to go , he sulks, curling up as small as he can. One of Charlie’s hands settles on his flank, but they say nothing, stroking idly at his fur as the jumpship heads to its destination of Las Vegas, 1962. It’s a short ride, spent in silence until they arrive and Charlie has to stand, removing him from her lap and setting him down on the still-warm chair.
“Goodbye, B,” they tell him, “thanks for everything.”
He doesn’t say it back, and after a moment of waiting, Charlie leaves without another word. Behrad refuses to turn and watch them go, waiting until the door latches closed behind her and the ship lifts off again on its return voyage to climb onto the armrest and look around at the empty vessel.
---
There’s no clock on the jumpship-- because what time would it even say? Keeping track of the days on a timeship is nearly impossible, let alone hours and minutes-- and so Behrad has no way of knowing how long it will take for someone to find him when he returns. But it doesn’t really matter-- Ray is already waiting in the docking bay when he lands, sliding the door open with his usual bright smile.
“Welcome back, B!” Ray exclaims without approaching, then sneezes. “Man, it sucks that you’re a cat now, you’re so small and adorable but it really messes with my allergies.”
Right, um, sorry , Behrad meows, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Very impressive, though, taking the jumpship out all on your own, little guy,” Ray continues, stepping out of the doorway and giving Behrad space to exit. “I know you said you didn’t want company, but Nate was worried you wouldn’t be able to work the controls.”
Well, I guess I’m just full of surprises , he meows, exploring the ship from his new vantage point. The room feels massive, and as he wanders into the corridor, he feels the thump of Ray’s footsteps following from an allergy-safe distance behind. He’s usually a little taller than Ray, and now his eye-level doesn’t even make it halfway up the man’s shins. Have we figured out any way to-- I don’t know-- turn me back?
Ray laughs, and something about it sounds off-- it’s sharper, somehow, and it sends a shiver down Behrad’s spine, and he keeps walking, trying not to look tense.
“No such luck, my friend. In hindsight, we should have probably made the fairy godmother fix it before we took care of her, but it’s a little too late for that now.”
“Hey, Ray, is B back yet?” he hears Nate call from down the hall, and hurries over to enter the library. Behrad hops up onto one of the armchairs and takes a leap from the cushioned leather onto the desk, and Nate winces, quickly reaching over to pick him up. “Bro, what did I tell you about keeping those tiny little paws off of the priceless historical documents?”
Sorry, he meows, and Nate responds by holding him up to his chest and scratching him on the head. Behrad purrs, leaning into it, then stops, shaking himself off. It’s a little disturbing how comfortable he’s starting to get with being a cat. Did I miss anything? He asks, hoping to get a little bit more information on why John’s change to the timeline did this to the guys.
“Nah, but we’ve got a lock on our next magical fugitive.” Nate points to the viewscreen with the hand that’s not stroking his fur, at a newspaper article about a casino. “Looks like a leprechaun.”
Oh, cool, you guys can do that thing where you, uh, spill a bunch of grain and see if he stops to count it just to be sure, right? Behrad asks, and Nate’s hand stills on his neck.
“Or, we could just shoot on sight.” Ray says, cocking a large gun. Behrad freezes, chilled to the bone at the way Ray’s grin hasn’t faltered, even as he brandishes that thing like it’s nothing. “I mean, ever since we stopped checking just-in-case, our missions have become four times more efficient.”
“Yeah, chill out, B, I know you still don’t like guns, but we all agreed that it’s for the best. If it weren’t for those magical creatures, you’d still be a human.” Nate adds. “And Sara…”
Nate trails off, and Ray’s disturbing smile falters as he looks down and begins to clean his gun with a worn-out rag. Behrad wants to ask what the rest of that sentence is, but he’s afraid to ask, because something’s not right here-- they’ve defaulted to shooting magical creatures on sight, and that’s scarier than whatever terrible thing must have happened to Sara.
And if he makes one wrong move, who knows? All he’s sure of is that he’s completely defenseless in this tiny feline body and Charlie is long gone, so he’s completely on his own with these men who aren’t the Ray and Nate that he loves.
“Anyways, if the jumpship’s back, we should get ready to go. That leprechaun isn’t gonna take care of himself.” Nate stands up abruptly, depositing Behrad onto the desk and brushing off his cargo pants. “And B, stay off of my stuff. That paper’s delicate and I’m tired of finding cat hair on everything.”
Behrad watches them exit in silence, wondering what had gone so horribly wrong.
---
Charlie strolls in several hours later, after he’s explored the now-empty ship for a bit and found that as a cat, there’s pretty much not a single thing he can do to pass the time. Behrad hisses at her in greeting.
“Glad you made it back to the ship okay,” she smiles, reaching out to pat him on the head and he smacks her hand away with one paw.
No thanks to you .
“Okay, I hear you, you’re still mad at me,” they sigh, leaning down to look him in the eye. “Listen, I really need your help.”
Oh, like you helped me by leaving me in the jumpship even though I don’t have opposable thumbs?
“Alright, yeah, I can see that being a cat is your main concern right now, but I still don’t know why you’re a cat.”
A whooshing noise to the side makes them both jump– in Behrad’s case, comically so, like… well, like a spooked cat, complete with a startled mrrrow – and the holographic image of a woman appears. Gideon , he recognizes from his time spent in her matrix last year, reliving that hour over and over. He still dreams about that never-ending hour, sometimes, and it always feels just as real.
“Mr. Tarazi was turned into a cat during the team’s encounter with a fairy godmother.” Gideon reports elegantly. She waves at Behrad, smiling.
“Whoa, Gideon, your latest upgrade! Smokin’” Charlie winks approvingly, and Gideon preens. They’re right, Gideon is gorgeous .
“Thank you, Miss Jiwe.” She says, because of course-- if Charlie had never met the team, there would be no reason to assume that she was a shapeshifter who’d taken on Amaya’s appearance.
“Amaya Jiwe,” Charlie blinks, before smiling awkwardly, “Yup, that’s me.”
“And may I say, your new upgrade and accent are also ‘smoking.’”
“Oh yeah?” Gideon nods, and Charlie grins, straightening out her cropped jacket. “Y’know, I’m just trying something out--”
Yeah, we know, you’re both super hot. Please stop flirting , Behrad meows impatiently. Can we get back to business?
“Right, okay, one last question: why are the Legends homicidal wankers now?”
“If you’re referring to the Custodians of the Chronology, their policy towards magical creatures has been ‘shoot on sight’ since their disastrous encounter at Woodstock.”
“Right… Thanks, Gideon.” Charlie says, and Gideon whooshes away. “Must be fallout from Constantine altering the timeline. Okay, this zero-tolerance bollocks ends now.”
And then they transform into Sara, stalking off before Behrad can warn them that that’s a bad idea.
Gideon? He asks. Nothing happens-- she probably doesn’t take questions from cats, and he sighs, jumping down from the desk onto the ground. Being a cat sucks .
Then, he hears a commotion and peeks into the hallway, seeing Charlie running back in his direction. He meows as loudly as he can, asking, hey, what’s going on? and she curses, turning into the library and grabbing the nearest bag-- bright pink thing with a domed window sticking out of it, which must be what this version of the team uses to take Behrad outside of the ship. She shoves him inside, zipping it up as they keep running all the way to the docking bay.
---
Charlie finally lets him out of that horrible bag once the jumpship has taken off again and they’re floating around aimlessly in the temporal zone.
“They’ve become maniacs.” Charlie mutters. “Okay, this is bad.”
You’re telling me, he glares at her, but can’t imagine that it’s very intimidating. I know I don’t have the best track record in terms of preserving the timeline, but I told you and John that saving Desmond was too risky, not without a safe loophole. And speaking of John--
“Right, Constantine– this is his fault!” Charlie perks up, ignoring the part where he said that this is both of their faults , “He needs to help us fix this. But where is he?”
Behrad sighs and leans up in the chair. He tries tapping at the console, suddenly grateful that it’s fully-touchscreen and doesn’t have buttons or levers that his little paws would fumble with. It doesn’t take him long to run a search for John’s location, because he’s in the first database that Behrad scans: the Time Bureau.
“Nice work, B-easy,” Charlie laughs, pulling the lever that makes the jumpship go. She tries to pet him again, but he wiggles away.
Stop that, I’m still mad at you.
“Alright, geez, I’m sorry I abandoned you with those lunatics,” they sigh, sitting back in their own chair. “It’s not like I knew that Sara died and they’d gone crazy.”
He wants to tell them that that’s not the point-- that it’s not just about the fact that the guys have become trigger-happy psychos, because they could fix that if they just stopped John from screwing with the timeline in the first place. But he doesn’t have a chance to tell them anything, because they’re rapidly approaching the bureau’s headquarters and he has to climb back into the cat-carrier backpack and let Charlie zip him into it, because he’s not going to let them leave him here again.
Even if he can only see what’s behind her from the confines of a baby-pink backpack, he’s not letting her go alone, not again.
---
After a very bumpy ride and a muffled conversation between Charlie-- pretending to be Gary-- and Nate’s father, Behrad hears the gruff voice of John Constantine as Charlie sets the backpack down, turning it so that the window faces John, and the shapeshifter reports that, “the bloke’s gone cuckoo.”
“Ha,” John laughs, leaning in to take a closer look, “I sense a familiar face. Who is that?”
Take a wild guess, my dude . Behrad meows, hoping that his frustration shows.
“Oh, B? B, is that you? Why the transmogrification?”
What, like it’s my fault?
“Let’s get this sorted out,” John unzips the bag and reaches in to pluck out one of his hairs, and he yelps, scratching lightly at the retreating hand. “Yeah, alright, I’m sorry, but this is the only way that you will know your true self.”
John turns and whispers a spell, letting a spark fly from his outstretched hands towards Behrad who braces himself, and in a puff of smoke, he’s human again.
“Oh, finally ,” he breathes, getting up off of John’s cell cot and stretching. Then, he feels an itch in his throat and coughs into his hand, gagging at the hairball that comes out and letting it drop onto the floor, before scowling and wiping his dirtied hand onto John's white shirt. “Because of you jerks , I’ve been a cat for so long . Have you ever tried to take a shower without opposable thumbs? This tongue has been places --”
“Alrighty, lad, that’s enough out of you,” John stops him. “I wasn’t sure that reversal was gonna work, ‘cause I’ve been feeling a little, you know, insane lately.”
“Yeah, well, I tried to warn you. You can’t just go around changing the timeline without a plan; you created a time wave when you changed your past with Desmond. And because you’re the epicenter, your experience of this timeline and that one both exist in your brain.”
“Okay, give me a break, what you’re trying to say is that I… broke time?” John asks.
“Yeah, back in New Orleans.” He tells him, and John at least has the decency to look ashamed. “I know it’s not fair-- I don’t blame you for wanting to save Desmond, but because you don’t have to live with the guilt of damning him, you never join the team.”
“Without John’s help with the unicorn at Woodstock, Sara dies, which makes the Legends into killers,” Charlie realizes. “Well, there’s only one way to fix this--”
“We go back to Woodstock and we save Sara.” John concludes, before Behrad can say otherwise.
“Yeah!” Charlie agrees, already starting to head out.
“Uh, no ,” Behrad interrupts, “Guys, you’re not listening. John, you have to go back to New Orleans and set history back on track. After that, I’ll help you look for a loophole-- I’ve done it before, and we will find a way, but not like this.”
“Whoa, calm down, B. You’re suggesting a total reset of the timeline. What we need is a surgical strike,” Charlie says. “Now, if we save Sara, then the Custodians of the Chronology don’t exist, I keep my powers, Des is de-demoned, Bob’s your uncle.”
“It’s too dangerous,” he shakes his head, “We reset the timeline, and then we’ll look for loopholes, but like this? We’re only going to make things worse. You’ll only have to wait a little bit-- ow!”
John begins casting another spell, this time with a hair that he’s plucked from Behrad’s human head, and in another puff of smoke, everything is huge again, and he doesn’t have to look down at his paws to know that he’s a cat again.
Really?!
“Sorry, love, until you can learn to stay out of my way,” John picks him up, avoiding his claws and stuffing him back into the bag while Charlie zips it closed, “you have to be a cat.”
He yowls his protests as best he can, but it’s no use, and he resigns himself to another unpleasant ride as they make their escape from the bureau, curling up and trying to get as comfortable as he can.
---
Swooping in to kill the unicorn with a blast from the jumpship’s weapons system doesn’t work-- Sara doesn’t die, but even minutes after they fly away, Behrad’s still a cat, staring unimpressed at the pair piloting the jumpship.
Maybe , he meows, and here’s a thought: we should go back to New Orleans and reset the timeline .
His suggestion is shot down immediately, of course, and Charlie sets a course back to the bureau.
---
Reporting back from inside headquarters, Charlie tells them there are three memorial plaques in the bureau instead of the one for Sara, this time for Ray, Nate, and Mick. And instead of the Custodians of the Chronology, Ava and Sara have teamed up with a corporeal Gideon as the Sirens of Space-Time. Even for this team, this has gotten ridiculous.
“Don’t say you told us.” John warns him, one finger held up to stop Behrad mid-meow. Then, he groans in pain, holding his head, and collapses onto one of the chairs, eyes squeezed shut. Hoarsely, he insists, “We’re not going back.”
Dude , Behrad meows, padding towards him, you’re only getting worse. If this goes on much longer, we’re going to lose you .
John doesn’t seem to hear him, hunched over and whispering frantically into his hands. Behrad approaches him warily, then jumps back as John jolts up, repeatedly smacking himself in the face with a gruff, “Get it together, John!”
He stands up, paces around the ship a few times, then settles down on the bench area behind the chair. Behrad jumps up next to where he slumps against the wall, worn-down.
John--
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking: you want me to put things back the way they were, but that’s not gonna bloody happen.” John’s breaths are shaky, like it takes all his energy to inhale, and he doesn’t have enough of it left afterwards to exhale.
You don’t look so good .
“No shit , mate.”
You know it’s not really about the timeline, right? I mean, it is, partially, but I’m more concerned about you than I am about that. Behrad settles, lying down as close to John as he can without making any physical contact.
“Well, don’t be.” John says, looking down at him. “It’s not worth the bother. And I’ve had worse, trust me.”
As if to prove that wrong, John collapses into another fit of shaking. Startled, Behrad scurries backwards, unable to do more than watch as the man sinks down towards the floor, turning as he settles back down, supporting his head with one arm leaned onto the bench. Tentatively, Behrad walks back towards him. They’re at the same level now, and once John lifts his weary head, Behrad can look him in the eye without craning his neck. In an attempt to soothe him, Behrad lies down directly next to John’s arm, resting his cheek on it and hoping that the guy doesn’t have another episode before Behrad has a chance to get off of him.
“How d’ you do it, then? Just sit back and let time take her bitter course?” John squints at him. “Knowing all the twisted things you’ll have to let happen to keep the timeline un-bent?”
Behrad considers the question for a moment, staring at the crease between John’s furrowed brows, then says, I’m not as brave as you are– brave, reckless, stupid, whatever you want to call it, I’m not really sure. I know that I couldn’t send Charlie to hell even though we thought it would save the timeline, but… I can’t save people if I think I might be making things worse, either.
“You’re a real goody-two-shoes, aren’t you?” John chuckles, then winces, pinching his nose bridge. “What was I thinking, shacking up with a band of noble hero-types like you lot?”
Or maybe I’m a coward , Behrad says, because sometimes he does wish that he could take that leap without looking, that he wasn’t so afraid of what might go wrong. He hasn’t dared look at the years between 2019 and 2042 since he’s come on board, especially not now, when every next magical encounter feels like it’s starting to converge towards his life before. He knows that he’s had it easy-- even before all of this, he grew up in a good home, and has always had that home to go back to. But even still, he’s terrified of losing his place on the team somehow, and if he has to pretend to be as clueless about magical creatures as a person from 2019 to keep things the way they are, he’s willing to do that. I’m just scared of screwing up .
“Oh, everyone’s a coward. And a screw-up. Me more than most. A do-gooder like you is by far one of the least dastardly out there. But Desmond-- Desmond isn’t any of that, he’s a good man,” John says in response. “I’m not being brave by saving his life, this is me doing right by him for once-- letting him have a life, like he deserves.”
And destroying yourself-- and who knows what else-- to do it? Do you think he’d want that?
“It doesn’t matter what he’d want-- if I do what you ask, I’d be sending Desmond to hell . I already have once, Behrad, I can’t do that again. I can’t–” John groans, hit by another flash of pain. He lays his head down against his arm, eyes scrunched closed, and Behrad lays a sympathetic paw on his wrist.
John--
“Yeah, I know, maybe I deserve this insanity.” John sighs, raising his head back up. He pulls his arm out from underneath Behrad’s paw and reaches over to stroke his feline head. “Oh, you’re all soft.”
Behrad lets him have this moment, even though it’s a little weird, because the guy is really going through it. He can’t blame John for trying-- he’d helped Helen of Troy, helped Jax try to save Stein, and tried to help Amaya save her village until she took things into her own hands. And if this were someone he loved, maybe someone from the team, like Wally or Nate, or his maman or baba, or Zari, maybe he would risk the timeline just like Amaya.
Just like John.
Suddenly, Charlie’s voice comes in through comms, telling them to get the ship ready-- they’re headed to Salem-- and John retracts his hand, standing up and brushing off his slacks as if their conversation had never happened. But then, he bends down to pick Behrad up, cradling his little body in his arms and scratching idly at his neck as they wait for the shapeshifter’s return.
---
Going back to Salem doesn’t work, either.
At first, they think it does, because Charlie stopped the fairy godmother from killing the guys, and as they fly back into the temporal zone, Behrad manages to speak real words in his actual, human voice. And then he sees the looks of alarm on John and Charlie’s faces as they turn towards him, still much taller, and takes a look at his hands-- at the clumsy felt mitts that have replaced his paws.
Being a puppet, Behrad immediately decides, is way worse than being a cat.
---
They try three more times at a surgical strike.
The first leaves a memorial plaque in the bureau for Ava. Then one for Nate again, this time accompanied by Hank, the two of them taken out by a garden gnome, of all things. Then, Gary, from a Time Courier accident.
With each repetition, things start to feel more and more like that time loop. Maybe this is all another never-ending nightmare, and eventually he’ll wake up in medbay and find out that he just got hit really badly in the head in New Orleans, and that none of this ever really happened.
If there’s anything that this mess has told him, though, it’s that he has to keep quiet about Mithra. One misstep, one tiny tidbit of future-knowledge that the team isn’t supposed to have, and he could fracture the timeline just as badly as John has.
He can’t tell the team.
---
On the fourth attempt, everything looks good, but as much as he wants to be optimistic, Behrad is just waiting to find out what’s gone wrong this time.
“I’m chuffed to bits! Everyone’s alive, Behrad’s human again, and I still have my powers! I mean, sure, it’s got a few cracks, but we fixed the timeline.” Charlie laughs, entering the room, giddy with excitement that’s infectious enough to make Behrad at least high-five them when they raise their hand for it. “See, even B’s on board.”
“Saying that I’m ‘on board’ is a little generous,” Behrad rolls his eyes, crossing his– thankfully human – arms. To Charlie’s left, John starts to sway, then steadies himself with a shake of his head. “Whoa, dude, you good?”
“Yeah, never better,” John replies, voice trailing off as his eyes roll back and he collapses onto the floor.
“Oh, bloody-- B, don’t you dare say ‘I told you so.” Charlie scowls, crouching down to the ground to check on John.
“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve put words in my mouth today, and it’s not like I didn’t tell you.” Behrad kneels next to John and smacks lightly at his cheek. “Hey, John. John, wake up.”
John groans, opening his eyes and blinking a few times, and that’s good enough for Behrad and Charlie to pull him by the shoulders to stand up.
“Ugh, what happened?”
“You passed out, mate.”
“He didn’t just ‘pass out.’ The timeline looks fine, but John’s mind is still under too much stress.” Behrad helps John towards the desk, and steps away once the other man looks steady enough. “John, you--”
“Yeah, I can take the pain, mate.” John waves him off, fishing an old napkin out of his trenchcoat pocket to wipe at the blood beginning to leak from his nostrils.
“And what if you can’t? What if you die , John-- what happens to all the people who need you alive and… Constantine-y--”
“Yeah, well, you can leave that to the real heroes, alright, because I’m done giving a damn.” He spits out.
“Okay, so this isn’t about Desmond, anymore,” Behrad realizes, “You’ve just been looking for an excuse to give up on yourself.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, just leave him alone, will you?” Charlie tries to stop him, and Behrad turns to her instead.
“These things don’t end until you set them right, Charlie-- things may look fine here, but you go out there and you’re going to find another crack to fix, and another, and another. How many times are we going to do this? I don’t think John has any more time left for you to mess around.
“John, you--” Behrad turns to John, who’s still hunched over in pain. “Punishing yourself isn’t the way to do this. I know you don’t want to send Desmond to hell, but this? This isn’t the way. You of all people can find a way to keep fighting for him. If you fix things in New Orleans, we can help you. You don’t have to do this alone--”
“Don’t listen to him,” Charlie interrupts, “Come on, John-o, it’s you and me! We can make this timeline work.”
“No, Charlie. We’ve tried over, and over, and over to get what we wanted and it hasn’t worked,” John sighs, standing back up. “Behrad’s right. There’s still hope for Desmond, and maybe there’s hope for your powers, too.”
“Hope?” Charlie scoffs, “My powers aren’t some magic trick, they’re who I am . I’m not gonna sit around and hope that they come back. I’ll fight for them.”
Charlie rushes towards Behrad, as determined as she was back when the team had first captured her and trapped her in that cell in the lab. Instinctually, he lifts his arms to shield himself, and the totem chimes, sending a blast of air from his outstretched left hand. Charlie flies backwards and hits the wall, falling painfully to the ground.
“I’m sorry--” Behrad starts, even moving to go check on them, but he’s stopped by a tug on his sleeve. John gives him a look, tilting his head to the door, and he nods, leaving with one last glance towards the shapeshifter on the ground.
---
John sets the timeline back in place. Even though it means letting Desmond get dragged down to hell, taking Charlie's powers away again, and breaking his own heart. Behrad knows it has to be done-- all three of them do-- but that doesn’t make it any easier, and so on the ride back from New Orleans to the Waverider, they sit in silence.
Their misery is broken, though, at the sight of the old Stein puppet from last year kicking and screaming insults and making them all wonder for a moment if they messed up again and created another horrible timeline where everyone’s a puppet. And then, Sara and Ray walk out, one-hundred-percent human, and Behrad breathes out a sigh of relief.
“Ah, the usual insanity that passes for normal around here.” Charlie smiles-- their first real smile since they lost their powers again. John claps Ray on the back with a grin as the scientist wheels the puppet away.
“What is… this?” Sara squints, gesturing at the three of them. “Why are you being so weird?”
Raising his eyebrows, Behrad glances at Charlie, then she peers around him at John. Behrad turns to his other side, patting John on the shoulder before taking off, Charlie hot on his tail-- and finally, he doesn’t actually have a tail anymore. Going forward, he’s going to be a lot more grateful for his long legs and opposable thumbs.
“Hey, B,” Charlie says, once they’re off the bridge. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
“For what, breaking the timeline? You don’t need to apologize to me for that. Unless this is about turning me into a cat, then stuffing me into a bag, then turning me into a--”
“No, no-- I mean, I’m sorry for that, too, but I’m apologizing because I refused to listen. You were right.”
“I wasn’t upset with you for that,” Behrad stops walking, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t even that upset with you for the cat thing, or because you left me alone in the jumpship. The thing that sucked the most is that… I don’t know, it felt like you didn’t even think we were friends. Like if you left, it wouldn’t matter to me at all. Like you could just leave us behind and it wouldn’t matter to you .”
“Oh, B,” Charlie softens, frowning. She takes a deep breath, hands on her hips as she searches for words. Finally, she asks, “Do you know why I kept coming back to this form, even after I’d gotten my powers back?”
“I don’t know, because Amaya is super hot?” He asks, and Charlie makes a face that conveys a sort of well-yeah-that’s-true, then shakes their head.
“Because this is the form I had when I joined the Legends. I’ve been a part of many crews, and you guys…” They trail off, then shrug. “Well, you’re not rubbish.”
“‘Not rubbish,’ huh? I get it, you’re too cool to admit that you actually like us. Don’t worry, we’ll wear you down.” Behrad jokes. “But listen. Messing with history for personal reasons… we’ve all tried it. Some of us were just more successful than others. The point is, it may as well be a rite of passage for this team, so you’re good, trust me.”
He carries on walking, towards his room, because it’s been a long day, and he could use some rest. Maybe a nice, long nap.
“So you think I’m hot, then?” Charlie asks smugly, matching his stride.
Behrad shrugs. Amaya was beautiful-- soft features, a sort of elegance backed with obvious strength, and a radiant sort of glow that lit up any room she was in-- so of course Charlie’s just as attractive. But even with the same face as Amaya, Charlie has an entirely different appeal: rough edges, wild, dynamic, but still infinitely charming.
“You’re not so bad yourself, you know? A little fresh-faced for my taste, but grow out the hair a little, maybe let the stubble settle in...” she turns to him and reaches up to touch his hair, carding it through her fingers. Instinctively, he stops in his tracks and leans into it like he had as a cat, when they’d pulled him into their lap and scratched behind his ears. “Oh, you like that, yeah? Did you always like this, or is it just left over from being a cat?”
“Hey, you try being a cat and seeing what that does to you,” Behrad protests. Charlie presses forward until his back hits the metal of the corridor wall, her fingers still combing steadily through his hair. His face warms at the way she smirks knowingly.
“Almost makes me wonder what else you like.” They tilt their head towards his bedroom door, a few feet down the hall, and raise a suggestive eyebrow.
“I mean-- if you want--” Behrad starts, and she just laughs, leading the way to his room without removing her hand, dragging him gently by the hair. Suddenly, he’s not so tired after all-- that nice, long nap couldn’t be further from his thoughts.