Don't play with fire, Mick. Don't play with fire. Leave the matches alone, Mick. Fire's beautiful, isn't it? But dangerous, too, see? It's not a toy. When you're older, Mick, not yet. Don't touch that, you'll hurt yourself. Don't play with fire, Mickie. And then the voice changes, drowns out the roar of the flames he can still hear, lifetimes later. It's not his mother's voice, his father's voice, loving and worried and angry. He doesn't recognize this one, except he does. It's his own, almost, but with something wrong about it. He doesn't want to listen, but the words don't stop. You could change it, Mick. You went back once. Could have gone back earlier, stopped yourself, stopped the match strike, ma's drapes, the wall, the house. They wouldn't let you, but all you have to do is want it. You can change it. Never happened. Ma, dad, birthday dinners with candles and cake, fix it. Change it. It's your past. It's your future. Just take the Spear, and your family doesn't burn. You don't have to bear those scars.

Little bird, little bird, that twits and flits and flies, little bird, little bird, unfold your feathered skies. Bubble gum bubble gum, in a dish, how many pieces do you wish? Be a hero in the light. There's clapping noises, slapping noises, along with the rhymes, skip rope against a pavement driveway, hands together, the sound of sparring. It wasn't right, little bird. It wasn't right. You get her back, or she gets you, and then you lose her to herself, and then she loses you, and gets you back, cycle and cycle and cycle, and they wouldn't even let you see her body. Wouldn't even let you try to save her. The time masters told Rip, told Gideon, but how right could they be, and anyway, there's a new team now. It would have gone differently but still they won't let you try. She didn't have to die for so stupid a reason, for a failed cause. You can still save her. It would be so easy. So, so easy. You wouldn't even have to risk the timeline, risk your team, risk your life. Just pick up the Spear, and the Black Canary rules the night. You don't have to bear those scars.

I love you. I love you. Don't you think that we were meant for something greater? I love you. There is no shame in wanting to be greater. To reach higher. The voice changes, voices of those he's loved, all lost to him, to a voice he knows haunts dreams. Haunts his. Warm and soft and gentle teasing to stark fact, harsh. Not wrong, maybe, and then the voices all shift again. He was wrong, though. About why you do this. There's glory, of course there's glory, but there's more than that. All you've ever wanted to do is protect people. Anna. And you failed her. Felicity, but she never needed you. Kendra. The refugee children. The team. How many more will you fail to protect? it doesn't have to be that way. You know it doesn't. You can save them. You could save Anna. Prevent all Kendra's heartbreak, protect the team. Power cities, save the world. Boy scout, you could do it. Power corrupts, but you only need a little. Change a few things without upsetting the rest of reality. Make the world better. Even just save one person. Just Anna, stop her from drying. You were so close. No shame in needing a little help to save your legs sooner, save her then. You are a knight of Camelot. Take up the Spear. You don't have to bear those scars.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. How are you feeling, baby? You know I don't like you climbing trees, what if I hadn't got you here in time? Let the nurse check your blood pressure. Your father's not going to be happy. Oh, sweetheart, you had us so scared. Yes, both of us. He never heard his father as worried as his mother. He never heard his father worried at all. Hospitals were him, mom, nurses. Hank paid the bills, told him to be more careful. That was enough. But it could have been different. This is the reason your father never had his own, this mission, this history, that sacrifice. His nature, your words, but none of that matters. You could solve it. Save three generations, and more all down the line, here. Now. You can change your fate. Never had a childhood, but what if you did? One wish, and your blood works like normal blood, from birth. Soccer, friends, no fear from papercuts or skinned knees. Playing ball with dad and grandpa for Thanksgiving, the fourth of July, and still learn all the stories. You could right all the wrongs of history, save the libraries from burning. See cities still standing where they should have fallen. And had a home. A family that cherished each other. Grow up without fear, without shame. Be a hero, a legend. Just use Spear. Save the world. Save your family. Save yourself. You don't have to carry those scars.

Are you sure this is safe, Professor? Are you alright, Professor? It's too dangerous, you can't go. We have to try. Professor, where's—Just come home to me, Martin. Come home to me. He wants to ignore the voices but the memories pull at him and it hurts, a physical ache, a flare across both arms. It's the past, but it didn't have to be. It doesn't need to be. Professor, you know Rory was right. Someday you'll be gone, and what will happen to Jax? When all the abberations are solved to save the timeline, what happens to Lily? What will Clarissa do, when you don't come home one day? Because one day you won't, one more broken promise. Because of your tests. Jason said it wasn't ready, but…it's alright. You can fix it all. You can give Caitlin Snow back her husband. You can give Clarissa back her husband. You can solve it all, the puzzle of how it all fits. All you need is the Spear, and you can change the places the pieces fell. So much learning in the world, imagine what a future you shape could be. You can stop Eiling and Volshok from ever rising, and all those like them, using science so cruelly, use science as the gift it is, not a weapon. You can spare Jefferson and Ronald so much pain. You can spare Clarissa and Caitlin. You can spare yourself. You don't have to bear those scars.

No one should know too much about their own future. I cannot advise showing you. Poverty. Desecration. Everything built so high, fallen. Just ashes. Just sand and dust and refugees with no real welcome. Hunger. Sad eyes. Cold. Loss. Mother? Child. Rex. Death comes like little cat feet, silent. Not silent. So loud, screaming, frozen. It starts as a voice and shifts, translates into image and thoughts, the way human eyes don't see the world. Amaya feels like the snake she spared, skin too tight, feels like a whale on dry land, her own weight suffocating, trying to forget the images. The sound of falling bombs. It does not have to be this way. You are a warrior, from such a long, unbroken line, and you know about inhuman power, the otherworldly. You have seen so much hatred and sorrow and death. You know how the order of things goes. There must be death for life, but this is barbarism. Unneeded. The world does not need to burn. So do the right thing. Hold the Spear. Make it holy through your actions. You have only had the power to save your village, your team, but now you can save the world. The power does not matter, only how you use it. You can erase those images from mind and memory and reality. No child need ever starve. No home need ever burn. No brave soul need ever beg for company as he dies so far from home. You can fix it all. Stop and save and reweave. You don't have to bear those scars.

I know it's not much, but it belonged to your father. Dinner at your Grandma Louise's. I love you. Perhaps what time wants is to see you and your father back together. I know for you to be the man I see standing here, I must do something right. I never wanted to be a hero. What I wanted was to go to college, but we couldn't afford it. He hears his own voice, blurred memory, after his mother's. After Rip's. After his father's, words he holds secret and safe, a memory he never wants to lose. Those words, the watch, that's all he'll ever have, because time wanted to happen in other ways, and it happened. Brought him to this moment, because of coincidence, because of a bad leg. You could change it, you know, Jefferson. You could change your life, one blink. Time wants to happen, but it put you here. In this time, this place, this opportunity. You can have more than two conversations and a watch. You can sit at Grandma's table and fight over the last piece of mom's cornbread, you can go to college. You can be a kid first, without the weight of a world on your back and a memory of a hero to live up to. You can be a hero without worrying about your widowed mother. You can erase every cruel thing ever said, ever assumed, about you, polish your life all shiny and new and perfect, fill in all the dents, never there. Just take the Spear. Just for a minute. You can do the bigger changes with the team. You don't need absolute power, you don't want that. Just your father back. That's all. One change. It can't do any harm, can it? You're here for a reason, and this is it. You don't have to bear those scars.

Go ahead, Jonas. He's listening. Hi, Daddy. We miss you. And love you. And love you. Anything else you want to say? Come home soon, Daddy. I just want to know you're all right. Wherever you are, whenever you are, I love you, Rip. Go ahead, Jonas. He's listening. Hi, Daddy. He has heard the voices nonstop for what seems like decades, over and over, engraved in his mind. It takes too long to occur to him that this isn't just memory. It was what was always the plan, wasn't it? Change the future. One detail. Two lives. You were so close. You were so, so close. You did not mean to fail. You can see them again. Hold them again. Use the Spear. This was always its destiny. To give life. To change the unfairnesses, the injustices. It is yours. Use it. What is to say that that loss was not an aberration, anyway. Fixing it could save the world. They don't have to be lost to you. Michael, you can save them. All that heartache, gone, without risking time itself shredding. There are no more time masters to give orders, who deserves to be saved, what deserves to be altered. Just you. Just your heart. Bring them Home. You don't have to bear those scars.

The pain, the loss, the longing, the scars we bear and the scars we bury show us who we really are.