AUTHOR'S NOTE: A continuation of the theorizing I'd done in "Siberia in the Springtime."

Sara rubbed her temples as Barry finished telling his story again. "And you brought him back to the Waverider… in Siberia… in 1892?"

Barry nodded. "Like I said."

Sara dropped her hands and looked over at Mick. "You were trained by the Time Masters. What do you think?"

"Dunno, Blondie," Mick said. "It sounds like one of Snart's plans, but…"

"But we still never went to Siberia," Ray said. "Unless… Gideon, did we go there and then wipe our own memories afterwards?"

"She wouldn't be able to tell you if she had," Rip answered as he strode onto the bridge, carrying one of his storage crates.

"I am programmed with strict protocols to protect the timeline," Gideon concurred. "If your memories had been wiped, it would have been for that reason. I can honestly tell you that I have not wiped any of your memories, despite Professor Stein's request that I delete his memory of Mr. Rory's-"

"That's enough, Gideon!" Sara, Rip and Mick all snapped at once, getting raised eyebrows from Barry and a knowing snicker from Ray. Sara just rolled her eyes. Then her gaze settled on Rip's crate, now sitting on one of the jump seats. "What's this, Rip?"

He shot Mick an apologetic look. "The… possessions Mr. Snart left behind. Mr. Rory, forgive my intrusion into your quarters to retrieve them, but I thought we should check them for any possible clues."

Mick waved off the apology, moving toward the crate and popping the latch open. He lifted the lid and looked inside, letting out a sigh that sent a pang through Sara's heart, both of sympathy and of regret that she hadn't really been there for him the way she should have ever since they'd lost Leonard.

Mick flicked his eyes up to meet hers, then pulled Leonard's parka from the crate. "Stupid thing," he muttered, holding it out to Sara. She took it from him, and, unable to stop herself, brought the fuzzy hood up to her face and inhaled deeply.

It still smelled like him.

"Wait a minute," Barry said, interrupting any chance of a reverie. "Snart left that parka in Cisco's workshop. It's still there."

There was a flash of yellow lightning, and Barry was suddenly holding a blue parka identical to the one in Sara's hands. Rip frowned and reached out for both parkas, laying them over the console screens to compare them.

"They look exactly the same," Ray said.

"Hmmm. Well, they would to the untrained eye," Rip said.

Sara raised an eyebrow. "And yours is trained?"

Rip shrugged. "Inauthentic clothing is a giveaway for time pirates. Now, look at this." He pointed to a pocket on the parka from the storage crate. "The topstitching on this is just a bit sloppy." He fingered the lapels. "The lapels feel like the interfacing was put in wrong. It's all lumpy. And the fur on the hood…" He moved his hand up to that and pulled a little, tugging a small section away from the blue fabric. "Not sewn on well at all. It's all very slapdash, and that's a hallmark of overburdened piece workers." He peered at the label inside. "Hmm. Made in Bangladesh, which was infamous for having virtual slave labor in unsafe factories at about the time this parka would have been manufactured."

He turned to the other parka. "Now, the fur on this coat is well-secured to the hood…" He gave it a tug to demonstrate before moving to the lapels. "And the interfacing is flat and smooth inside the lapels. And look at this topstitching…" Now he traced a finger along a pocket. "It is exquisite."

He looked up at the others. "The label on this one may also say, 'Made In Bangladesh,' but this parka didn't come from any sweatshop. Nor was it made by a human tailor. Only a fabricator can be so precise."

Mick frowned. "Snart never needed to fabricate a second parka."

"Are you sure?" Sara asked. "Gideon, did you ever make a parka for Snart?

"No, Captain Lance."

Rip inclined his head. "Perhaps it would be more accurate to say you have not done so yet, Gideon."

There were sharp intakes of breath around the console. Sara met Mick's eyes, and saw mirrored there a feeling that neither of them had felt in a long while.

Hope.