Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more
-- “In My Life,” the Beatles
The Waverider looks the same.
Leonard stands there, in the empty lot the ship is parked in, and stares at it. It doesn’t seem like it should look the same. Nothing…nothing else is the same, after all. He self-consciously rubs his right hand up and down his left arm, noting that it, also, feels the same.
But it’s not.
“What’s the hold up, mate?” Leonard jerks forward as the trench-coated Brit pokes him in the shoulder, smirking as he turns to glare. “You’ve been gone a while, I get that, but I’d think you’d be running on board, not standing here staring.” The smirk modulates into a leer. “She’s on there, you know. Only one right now, with everyone else off on shore leave. You’ll have lots of privacy.”
He vaguely—very vaguely—remembers the man from before. From that interlude they tell him, now, was nearly two years ago. The span of hours his consciousness—his soul, they say—had surfaced, separate from the man called Leo.
The man who is now in possession of his…their…body, while Leonard…
He catches himself rubbing his arms again. Stops.
“She’s not expecting…me,” he mutters. “You really…you should have warned her.”
Those words do make the man—John Constantine—pause, an odd expression flitting over his face.
“Maybe,” he acknowledges, after a moment. “Maybe. But you heard Leo. Once the experiment worked…well, there was no good reason for waiting around and lots of reasons not to. Don’t you want to go home?”
Home. Leonard stares at the Waverider again, feeling totally at sea.
The man besides him sighs.
“Go on, mate,” he says, a little more gently. “Tear off the bandage. I remember how you kissed her, back when…well. You’ve got a second chance now. Take it, right?”
Leonard doesn’t move. “You said, though…there was someone…”
Constantine eyes him, pulling a cigarette out of nowhere and passing it back and forth between his hands.
“For Sara?” he says finally. “Yeah. After you…Leo…left. But that’s done now.” He winces a little. “Didn’t end well, really.”
It hurts. Of course, he didn’t want Sara to sit around pining, but… “So, what?” Leonard asks, knowing his voice is harsh. “I’m the consolation prize now?”
That gets a scowl. “Look,” the warlock says tersely, pointing the cig at him. “What and who you are now…it wasn’t without risk. To me, to…my counterpart…to Leo himself. A lot of people worked on this. You gonna throw it away? That’s up to you. But I think you owe it to all of us…and to yourself…to go talk to the woman on this ship. She deserves to know you’re back.”
“Kind of,” Leonard mutters despite himself, making a fist. Feeling the lack of scars on his palm.
“Kind of,” Constantine acknowledges. “In all the ways that matter, mate.” He sticks the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and shakes his head. “Well. Good luck. I’ll be back with the others in a few days. See you then.” He shrugs. “Or not.”
Despite how disconcerted Leonard is, and how irritating he finds the other man capable of being…well, he also didn’t think he’d be walking back on board this ship alone. “You’re not…”
Another flash of sympathy. “Mate, I think this is the kinda thing you need to do yourself.”
It’s not much of a surprise, really, that Leonard’s back on the Waverider only a moment when he hears a familiar voice lift to greet him.
“Mr. Snart,” Gideon says quietly, as he stops. “Leonard. Welcome back.”
He can’t help himself. “Is it back?” he asks her, knowing there’s a little bitterness there. “Really?”
The AI is quiet so long that he nearly starts walking again. But when Gideon speaks again, there’s enough irritation in her tone that Leonard’s taken aback.
“You ask me that, Mr. Snart?” she asks. “Me? Truly? Whether it is your…your shell…that matters or the spirit or soul inside? You know better than that.”
When she puts it like that… “I didn’t think of it that way,” Leonard admits, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. “It’s just…”
Gideon capitulates, tone gentling again. “…odd, I’m sure,” she acknowledges. “Especially as, yet again, you didn’t think you’d ever be returning here.”
“No. I didn’t.” They share a moment of quiet before the AI sighs.
“Captain Lance is in her office, Mr. Snart,” she tells him. “I have warned her there is a…a visitor…on the ship. What sort of visitor, well…”
“That’s up to me. Right.”
Gideon, having informed Sara that she has a visitor onboard, promptly refuses to say any more, other than that the person is not a security risk. Sara, irritated, nearly gets up to go investigate anyway, but eventually decides in a fit of pique that on the AI’s head (so to speak) be it. She stays in the office, going through Rip’s old papers, trying to decide which can be safely put in storage, which to digitalize, and which to keep in the file cabinets.
So, when there’s a hesitant step at the door, it takes her a moment to even glance up. Since they’re in Central City, it’s probably just a member of Team Flash. Maybe Iris, or Caitlin. Mick or Ray could have told them where the Waverider was parked.
Just about the last thing she expects to see is the tall, lean shape that pauses just inside the office, backlit just a little because Sara has the lights low, facing her but coming no farther.
Even now, her heart gives a single, painful “thump” at the sight, but her heart, Sara knows, is a liar. Leonard is gone, giving up his second chance so that Leo could live on with his Ray and his Freedom Fighters on Earth-X. He’s gone. And he won’t be back. She’s had nearly two years to come to grips with that, not to mention the time before that. After the Oculus.
“Leo?” she asks after a second, having hastily gathered up all those feelings and shoved them back in the mental box she keeps them in. “Are you OK? Is Ray…?”
The figure takes a step forward, and Sara gets to her feet, allowing one of her knives to slide from her sleeve into her hand. Sure, Gideon had said this…this person is OK, but Leo would have simply sauntered in, smiling at her, by now. And she remembers all too well the Legion Leonard who’d thrown things into such turmoil.
“Leo?” she asks again, tone tight. “Say something. What’s going on?”
Another step. And Sara blinks, as the figure’s face and eyes suddenly become more visible, as is the intent expression directed at her.
“Sara,” he says, voice low and uncertain. “I…”
The words trail off, but Sara is suddenly just as sure as she’d been back during the institution incident.
She’s looking at Leonard Snart, the one and only Earth-1 original.
Leonard, in the month or so he’s been “back,” has become quite steady on his feet. Certainly, they wouldn’t have let him go if he’d been as wobbly as he’d been at first.
But now, having subsided into a chair in the captain’s office…Sara’s office…on the Waverider, he feels every bit as shaky as he had when he’d first woken up in a new body, there on Earth-X, staring up at a face that was the twin to his own.
That was his own.
Sara, having made sure he’s steady enough in the chair, brings him a glass of water, but he doesn’t miss just how white her knuckles are as she hands it to him, nor how still her expression is. She sits down across from him, still silent, and watches as he takes a drink.
Leonard sighs. “I told them someone should warn you,” he says, staring down into the glass. “I know things were…”
Sara stirs, then. “Who’s ‘them?’” she interrupts, not without a thread of uncertainty.
“Leo,” Leonard informs her promptly. “Ray…his Ray. The Ray. That Constantine guy. The magician from Earth-X.” He glances upward. “And I’m told Gideon was in on it too.”
Sara follows his glance, but her expression is…well, murderous. Gideon must agree, to some extent, because she speaks up promptly, sounding a touch unsettled.
“Not…quite,” she says carefully. “I replicated and sent along some technology native to the Waverider, at Leo Snart’s request. He’d contacted Mr. Constantine and Mr. Rory,” she adds hastily at Sara’s continued silence. “And Mr. Constantine took it over with him on a visit. Neither I nor Mr. Rory know what became of the request.”
“Mick was in on it?” Leonard asks in surprise.
“Again, to some extent. He knew that Leo…”
But Sara holds up a hand then. “Just…before anything else,” she says, carefully looking elsewhere before letting her eyes dart over to Leonard. “I need…is it you? The real…”
She stops. Leonard hesitates. Is it? he thinks. Is it really him? But Gideon’s words from before stand, and he nods, meeting Sara’s eyes.
“Yeah,” he says. “It is.”
Sara just can’t help it. The single word explodes out of her, as she sits there and stares at this Leonard, who looks just the same and still somehow not, though she can’t put her finger on precisely how.
And this Leonard gives her a rueful smile. He puts down the water glass and puts his hands down on her desk, palms down, long fingers splayed, and stares at them.
“I’m...a clone, I guess you’d say,” he murmurs. “Product of Waverider tech and the Earth-X tech that helped create Red Tornado.” He glances up at her, eyes cautious. “And then...well, Constantine and their Zatanna went about, well, banging on doors in Leo’s head until they...woke me up. And they...shoved me in here.”
“He’s asleep,” Sara remembers Leo saying, all that time ago, after John had put Leonard’s reawakened soul back into hibernation inside their shared body. Leonard’s choice, that had been, well and truly, a sacrifice for his other self, but not without regrets...
“They didn’t ask?” she blurts out, thinking suddenly of how it’d felt to be pulled out of...wherever she’d been, after she’d died, and thrust back into a repaired body. “Are you OK?”
Leonard blinks and then looks...well, he looks gratified. Like no one else had asked that, expecting him to simply be grateful for all the trouble they’d gone through, grateful to be back. And to be honest, there are few people who get the other side of that better than Sara.
After a moment, he shrugs. “I’m...all right,” he says, watching her carefully. “They did ask, sort of, but I wasn’t very...coherent, at that point. And once they mentioned...”
He stops short, and Sara wonders...but only briefly, because he starts speaking again, glancing down at his hands. “I’m still getting used to it. Most of the muscle memory...it’s gone, and so are the scars.” His hands close into loose fists, and he turns them from side to side before looking back up at her.
“I’m younger,” Leonard admits. “Now. Physically, anyway. Closer to you. Lots of the damage taken over the years, it’s gone too."
And that’s good, that’s great, but...Sara nods, slowly. “But it was your damage,” she says, meeting his eyes. “And it’s weird without it.”
“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth ticks up, and for the first time, she sees him really relax, at least a little. “Shoulda known you’d get it.”
“You know I do, crook.” The nickname slips out before she can stop it, and Sara glances away, clearing her throat. “Why didn’t someone come with you?” she manages. “Help explain all this? That’s not much like Leo, honestly.”
Leonard makes a thoughtful noise. “He wanted to,” he admits. “But there was a bit of an uprising, some remnants of the Reich, I’m told. Leo said to assure you that they’ve got it, but they wanted me safely out of it for now.” His expression darkens. “Especially after they...put a lot of...work into me.”
Sara stares at him. “Leo didn’t say that.” It’s not a question, but... “Did he?”
He seems to shake himself, giving her another of those rueful smiles. “No. I guess I just...felt like a liability instead of a help, to them. Didn’t like it much.” He shrugs. “Your...Constantine came with me. From Earth-X. But he seemed to think I needed to do this myself.”
Sara snorts, an expression of exasperation that she knows she uses a lot when it comes to John. “Of course he did.”
They share a smirk, then, before apparently realizing yet again how awkward this all is. Leonard looks back down at his hands, and Sara looks too, realizing just how many tiny scars and lines have vanished.
“May I?” she murmurs, reaching out before she can stop herself.
After a breath, he nods, and Sara picks up his right hand gently, running her thumb across the palm, hearing his intake of breath. But it doesn’t seem to be an uncomfortable one, so she continues, gently stroking the long, nimble fingers, feeling the relative lack of callous and scar tissue.
Rebirth, she thinks. So like her own, in some ways. Another thing they have in common, now.
Eventually, Leonard clears his throat, and Sara glances up, realizing just how dark and intent his eyes are as they stare at her. Realizing she’s really, err, been making love to his hand, she drops it quickly, glancing away—and then gets up to cross the room again, pulling out two glasses and a bottle, one of the few remaining from Rip’s collection.
“Scotch?” she asks, staring down at the bottle, trying to calm her heart rate.
When Sara returns to the desk, she doesn’t bother sitting down behind it again. Instead, she hands Leonard his glass and then hooks another chair with her foot, pulling it over and near his own, taking that one. This time, when she sits down, they’re close, more on an even footing, knees almost brushing.
More than close enough to touch.
They both drink, and Sara hears him sigh again, though it seems to be a content sound. Blue eyes dart to hers over the top of his glass, and she sees that rueful smile again.
“I heard,” he murmurs. “About Rip. I’m sorry.”
Sara sighs. She holds her glass up then, in a clear toast, and he clinks his against it before they take another drink together, a tribute to the man who’d once owned the libation.
“He wasn’t perfect,” Sara says quietly, looking down into the amber liquid. “But...none of us are. And without him, we wouldn’t...well...I don’t know where I’d be.”
“Same.” Leonard takes another drink, glancing over at her. “Mick,” he says suddenly, and it’s not quite a non sequitur. “Mick’s OK?”
“He’s fine.” Sara smiles a little. “I think he’s off rambling around with Charlie right now. Charlie...now, she’s an interesting addition to the team. I...” She catches herself. “Well. There will be time. Later.” She looks over at Leonard, who looks slightly amused. More like himself, really, like the man she remembers and less like the unsettled and unsettling stranger who’d first appeared in the doorway.
Maybe that’s why she takes that particular plunge next.
“Well. So. Ah,” she says, carefully if somewhat nonsensically. “You remember...what do you remember?”
The blue eyes grow a little hooded as Leonard studies his scotch. Then he sighs.
“Everything,” he admits. “I think. At least from when I was...me. I remember my life, up to...to the Oculus.” He glances over at her, and Sara throttles back the memory of desperation and the realization of what was happening…what she couldn’t stop from happening. And a kiss.
“The Oculus,” Leonard repeats, still holding her gaze. Is it her imagination or did his eyes grow darker? “Then...waking up after the weirdest dream, and…seeing you.”
His voice trails off. And his eyes are definitely darker, warm and intent on her. And Sara remembers.
“You gonna make love to me, Leonard?" she’d murmured into his ear, running her fingers down his spine and feeling him sigh under her touch. "You better be a hell of a thief."
Oh. He remembers too, remembers their night together, the gift Leo had given them. Sara feels her face heat again, but she holds his gaze a long moment before clearing her throat. The office feels a little too warm, a bit too stuffy, and she remembers so very clearly the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands on her body, the way he’d said her name as…
Sara tosses back the remainder of her scotch, then drags in a deep breath. “I…” she starts hesitantly, gathering her courage—only to realize that Leonard’s looking away again. And when he looks back a moment later, his eyes that seem to have their walls up again, walls she hadn’t yet seen in this new version of him.
“Hey,” he says, looking away, voice quiet. “It’s OK. There’s no pressure. I get it; things have changed.” He closes his eyes as Sara blinks at him. “I can head into the city, look into getting some ID, maybe...”
But he shuts up as Sara, unwilling to let this confusion go another second—hey, she’s learned something in the past few years--snakes a hand behind his head, pulls him toward her, and kisses him. Hard.
It gets out of hand pretty much immediately, but they’re both OK with that.
By the time they come up for more than a breath of air, Sara is sitting in Leonard’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck, their foreheads still touching. Her shirt is completely unbuttoned, and the skirt she’d been wearing is rucked up around her waist. Leonard’s hands are, at the moment, still, high on her thighs…where his questing fingers had accidentally brushed against a (fortuitously sheathed) hidden knife, drawing a startled oath from him and a peal of laughter from Sara.
He’s still mostly clothed, though he’s pretty sure Sara has definite plans for remedying that. For the moment, though, they’re just breathing, watching each other, unwilling to let go but needing that momentary break for, well, oxygen purposes.
Leonard can’t deny a sense of gratitude that Sara hadn’t let him persist in what had, apparently, been quite a misconception. He pulls back just a little, far enough to look in her eyes, marveling.
“Oh,” he says, finding a real smirk for one of the first times since his…rebirth. “I guess you want me to stay?”
That gets another ripple of laughter. Sara closes her eyes, a slow smile spreading across her face before she opens them again.
“What was your first clue?” she teases back, but then shakes her head. “Why on Earth would you think I wanted you to leave?”
There’s a little pain in the question, and the last thing Leonard wants to do is exacerbate it. He hesitates a moment, then sighs.
“There was someone else,” he says finally, watching her. “For you. Constantine said so.” He takes a deep breath. “And I’m not...I’m not the same. It’s been a long time. And I haven’t been here. For you.”
It’s halting and not very eloquent, but Sara, he thinks, gets it. She nods slowly, still looking him in the eyes, but her hands holding him close don’t loosen at all. And when she speaks again, her words are just as thoughtful.
“There was,” Sara says quietly. “Someone. It didn’t work out. She...we wanted different things, ultimately.” She moves just a little, looking around at the room and the ship around them before glancing back at him. “The Waverider...it’s my home, Leonard. My home, my life, and my responsibility. It took me a little while to realize that, to know that I couldn’t be happy going back to a...a more normal life.”
There’s a question in the words, too, though maybe someone else wouldn’t have heard it. Leonard thinks about what Constantine had said before, studying him as he’d stared at the ship and tried to figure out what he was doing here.
“Don’t you want to go home?”
Maybe, he admits to himself, that smartass Brit is more perceptive than Leonard had given him credit for.
“Never had what I’d consider a normal life,” Leonard admits finally. “Don’t think I’d know what to do with one. But going back to...well, being the criminal king of Central City doesn’t have the same allure to it anymore, either.” He offers her a sly smile. “And I figure...maybe...that a team of troublemakers set on protecting the timeline might still need a hell of a thief.”
Sara’s answering smile makes his heart contract. “Definitely,” she whispers, shifting in a way that makes him catch his breath. “Very definitely. And someone who makes the captain...happy...is always a good idea.”
The room is warm. Very warm. Leonard clears his throat again, trying to clear his thoughts a little, moving his hands up and over her skirt and around to the small of her back.
“Happy, huh?” he murmurs, adjusting her a little and smirking at the sound she makes. “Just...happy?”
Sara’s eyes flicker closed. “Content,” she purrs. “Pleased. Satisfied.” Her eyes open a little, heavy-lidded in a way that makes Leonard lick his lips. “Euphoric.”
“Hmm. Hope I can live up to those lofty goals.” With barely a momentary tensing of muscles to warn her, Leonard stands, balancing Sara against him as she laughs and wraps her legs around his waist. “I think it just might be a good thing I’m a little younger now.”
Turning, he carries her to the doorway of the office, pausing only a moment before Sara steers him toward the captain’s quarters. While he’d once cased them for valuables during Rip’s tenure, that’d been a while ago—and Sara is doing her damnest to distract him now, kissing his jaw and neck as he tries to navigate.
“Younger, hmm?” she says playfully when he pauses. “Interesting. We should have some time, here…are you suggesting you might be up for a bit of a…marathon?”
Leonard’s startled into a chuckle. “Hey, you didn’t have any complaints about the older model before,” he objects, glancing over her shoulder as they approach the door.
Sara hums thoughtfully. Leonard looks down at her as she gently places a hand on the side of his face, noting the affection and emotion in her eyes along with a healthy helping of lust.
“I liked the older model,” she says quietly. “I like this one, too. Or perhaps I should say…I like the driver.”
Leonard carefully puts her down on her feet, there outside the door to her room, and sets his hands at her hips, feeling—just about for the first time--fully comfortable in this new body he’s inhabiting.
“So, you want to take me out for a test spin?” he asks suggestively, letting his hands drift a little south.
A smile tugs at Sara’s mouth. “I was thinking more like a lengthy road trip, perhaps.”
Leonard responds in the only way he can.
Gideon opens the door for them without comment.
At one point over the next few days, Sara asks Gideon to remind her when the time approaches for the team’s return. Just in case.
In all fairness, she figures, padding to the galley for a tray to take back to the room, she should be allowed to lose track of time for this, of all things. Right? It’s a miracle, really, Leonard’s return. And soon, she’s going to have to share him—in some ways, anyway. Not that that’s a bad thing—she can’t wait to see Mick’s reaction—but it’s still a thing.
To Sara’s great amusement, there’s already a tray waiting for her in the replicator when she arrives at the galley. She regards it a moment, studying the perfectly ripe strawberries, the chocolates, the cheese and sliced baguettes. There are even two glasses of what appears to be champagne, along with some glasses of spring water. The AI, it seems, might have a romantic streak.
“Thanks, Gideon,” she says, collecting it, turning to head back to the room. “Appreciate it.”
“You are welcome.” Gideon pauses, then says, tentatively “Are you…well, Captain Lance?’
Sara blinks, pausing. “Don’t I…seem well?”
“I keep an effort not to…listen in…on moments that should be private.” Gideon’s voice seems a little prim. “And frankly, that’s all there have been on this ship, lately.”
The laugh bubbles up before she can help it. “I suppose that’s true,” Sara admits, continuing on. “Yes, I’m well. And so is Leonard.” She can’t help the smile that lurks around her mouth then. “I think he just needs…refueling. And maybe a little rest.”
“As you say, Captain Lance.” Gideon’s tone is rather definitely amused now. “As a reminder, you have about 24 hours before the others return. Enjoy.”
“Oh, believe me. I intend to.”
They don’t get 24 hours, though. Later, Sara will figure it’s rather early the next morning when she hears voices in the hallways outside and Gideon’s resigned voice interrupting their sleep.
“Captain Lance,” she says regretfully. “You have visitors. And they seem to be…”
A familiar voice in the hall cuts in before she can finish. A very, very familiar voice.
“Captain Lance! Sara! Are you here?!”
Sara sits bolt upright, startled for a moment before the true identity of the voice’s owner gets through. Then she sighs, smiling a little, and reaches out to put a hand on the shoulder of the man who’s been sleeping besides her.
“Len,” she says quietly. “Wake up. I think someone wants to check on you.”
“Sara!” she hears again, worry clear in the tone.
A moment passes before her lover opens an eye. He doesn’t seem horribly enthused about the idea. “They had plenty of time to make sure all the parts worked before they sent me here,” he mutters after a moment. “What now?”
“I think we’ve had plenty of proof of that, too.” Snickering, Sara gets out of bed, reaching for a robe. “C’mon. I think we at least owe him some thanks and some reassurance, don’t you?”
Leonard growls, but he does follow her. Sara waits only a minute for him to grab a sheet and…arrange it…before she crosses the room and throws the door open.
Right in Leo Snart’s worried face.
“What?” she asks innocently, as he blinks at her. “Who on Earth are you looking for?”
Leo’s mouth drops open…and then, as Sara watches, he clearly sees Leonard approaching from behind her—presumably wearing nothing but his sheet.
“Yeah,” he says, just as innocently, reaching out to put a hand on Sara’s hip. “Who are you looking for?”
Leo’s mouth snaps shut. For once, he actually seems speechless.
Behind him, Ray Terrill closes his eyes, clearly trying to hold back laughter, and not very well. Opening them again, he nods in a friendly fashion to Leonard, who nods back.
“He was worried,” Terrill notes with amusement, glancing at his husband. “Things didn’t go at all the way he was planning. For once.”
Leonard shrugs. “Well, you know. Make the plan, execute the plan, expect the plan to go off the rails…”
His doppelganger recovers enough to glare at him, though amusement clearly shows through around the edges. “That’s an awful motto!” He shakes his head as Sara laughs, then gives Leonard a more even look.
“Ah,” he says with a sigh. “I see you made it here all right. As soon as we had things sorted, I meant to follow, but then we weren’t sure where you were…”
Sara eyes him. “You were worried?” She folds her arms. “I figured sending him off alone with John Constantine, of all people, was maybe a little…”
A voice rises again, then, from farther down the hall, and all four of the players in the little tableau roll their eyes.
“Do I hear my name being taken in vain?” Constantine asks, strolling down the hall with an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. He spots and studies them all—especially Sara and Leonard in their state of dress, or lack thereof—and then smirks. “Ha.”
Leo sighs at him. “When I asked you to bring him to Earth-1,” he says, rubbing his face with a hand, “I meant to wait somewhere for us to help explain what was going on.” He points at the unrepentant warlock. “Not to abandon him here to fend for himself and then fuck off to a bar. But Zatanna said that’s precisely what you did.”
Sara decides she wants to know more about this Zatanna, but John merely grins around his cigarette.
“What’s all the fuss, anyway?” he asks, removing the cig and glancing around. “Clearly, things went…well.” He leers at Leonard, who looks evenly back, and then shrugs.
“They needed to deal with this on their own,” John continues in his world-weary tone. “The more people around, the more time they’d spend staring at each other and coming up with reasons why they shouldn’t just kiss and fall into bed.” He points at Sara. “Am I right?”
Sara opens her mouth. Closes it. And then sighs, thinking that John’s going to be even more insufferable for the foreseeable future. “Pretty much.”
Leo looks like he’d like to argue, but very obviously shakes it off. He gives John another piercing look, then glances back at Leonard and Sara. “Everything worked all right, I take it?”
He obviously means their relationship, but…Sara actually giggles as John guffaws next to her and Terrill sighs.
“Perfectly,” Leonard drawls back at him. There’s a light in his eyes as Sara glances up at him, and it gleams even brighter as he pulls her just a little closer to him. “I gotta say…thanks.”
Leo smiles in return, and while there’s something that makes them look more like, say, twins than the split souls (wow, that’s still a weird thought) they are, at that moment, the gleam is very much the same.
“Good,” he says softly. “Good.” He looks over at his Ray, smiling, then back. “You are so very welcome. Make the most of it, will you?”
Memory crashes in, suddenly, and Sara draws in a breath.
"This is a gift, Sara, the most precious gift I could ever have been given," she remembers that same voice saying. "And I swear to you I'll make the most of it."
And now, he’s given her, them, a precious gift in return.
Leonard may not remember that promise from before, but he’s not so unobservant as to be unaware of the undercurrent. “Promise,” he tells Leo in return, voice just as serious.
Sara eyes them a moment, then decides that’s enough seriousness for such an occasion. She looks back down at a (nonexistent) watch on her wrist, then back up at the men around her.
“Well, boys,” she says, in a bit of a drawl of her own. “We still have some time until the rest of my chaos crew gets back here. John notwithstanding.” She looks up, smirking at Leonard, as John makes a cheerfully obscene suggestion in the background. “Sorry, but I have more time to make the most of, right now.”
And with that, she grabs a handful of Leonard’s sheet in her hand, winking at them all before turning and hauling him back in the room with her. The door shuts behind them, and Leonard promptly turns her grip around on her, backing her against the bed while Sara laughs out loud.
He kisses her, then pulls back just a fraction, watching her, blue eyes dark. Different, but still so very much her crook.
“I love you, Sara Lance,” he murmurs.
Sara smiles up at him, as somewhere inside, something that’s been wounded and bleeding for years finally starts to heal. “And I love you too.”