( helena bertinelli, she'd said, when she'd boarded their time ship. huntress.
either one was enough to set off immediate warning bells in sara, a sort of you've got to be fucking kidding me. the helena bertinelli that she knows was so hellbent on killing her own father that she went to insane lengths to do so. huntress and the canary had gone toe to toe twice and sara probably would've strangled her to death if laurel hadn't intervened, told her that she didn't believe that the canary had to be a killer. needless to say, she's not on great terms with helena bertinelli.
there are other earths, the legends had learned from barry and team flash, other worlds that could look completely identical to their own but with the most minuscule of differences. sara wonders if that's the case for this helena. she's got the name and the alias, but not the same face. it's eerie. she's trying to look past it, grin and bear it for the sake of the team who don't know better.
of course, sara ends up stuck with this brand new helena in medieval scotland and things are decidedly Not Great. it's freezing, and the ever-so-stylish tartan floor-length gown the waverider had decided to grace her with to "blend in" isn't quite doing the job. she's been pacing around the room like a caged animal, trying to pretend like she's not cold, until helena speaks. she halts abruptly and her head snaps in her direction, eyebrows lifted, like she's trying to discern if helena is being serious.
there's no way in hell, her stubborn side wants to retort. but sara isn't an idiot — she knows how to brave the elements, what's required to do so sometimes. so instead, gaze flickering towards the bed even though she makes no discernible move towards it, she answers, ) You're not wrong.
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either one was enough to set off immediate warning bells in sara, a sort of you've got to be fucking kidding me. the helena bertinelli that she knows was so hellbent on killing her own father that she went to insane lengths to do so. huntress and the canary had gone toe to toe twice and sara probably would've strangled her to death if laurel hadn't intervened, told her that she didn't believe that the canary had to be a killer. needless to say, she's not on great terms with helena bertinelli.
there are other earths, the legends had learned from barry and team flash, other worlds that could look completely identical to their own but with the most minuscule of differences. sara wonders if that's the case for this helena. she's got the name and the alias, but not the same face. it's eerie. she's trying to look past it, grin and bear it for the sake of the team who don't know better.
of course, sara ends up stuck with this brand new helena in medieval scotland and things are decidedly Not Great. it's freezing, and the ever-so-stylish tartan floor-length gown the waverider had decided to grace her with to "blend in" isn't quite doing the job. she's been pacing around the room like a caged animal, trying to pretend like she's not cold, until helena speaks. she halts abruptly and her head snaps in her direction, eyebrows lifted, like she's trying to discern if helena is being serious.
there's no way in hell, her stubborn side wants to retort. but sara isn't an idiot — she knows how to brave the elements, what's required to do so sometimes. so instead, gaze flickering towards the bed even though she makes no discernible move towards it, she answers, ) You're not wrong.