By unspoken, general consent, the original team had opted not to empty out Snart's room. His belongings remained, untouched, through all of Rip's renovations and refitting, and if anyone ever noticed Mick or Sara exiting the room, they chose to keep that to themselves.
When Nate joined them, he'd been shown to Kendra and Carter's old room. When Amaya came aboard, Sara had abruptly vacated her quarters and moved into Snart's.
That was where Mick found her now - in his/her/their room, sitting at the desk and staring at nothing.
"You OK, Birdie? We missed you at dinner. Ya gotta eat something."
He unceremoniously plopped a tray down on the desk in front of her, and Sara had to smile at the huge sloppy sandwich, pile of chips, and bottle of beer.
"I'm good, Mick."
"No, you're not. Something's eating at you, Sara."
At the use of her proper name, she spun the chair to look up at him. "When did you get so smart?"
"I'm not. People been telling me that my whole life. But…I knew him…and I think I know you. Ah - I'm no good at this crap. -" He waved one beefy hand dismissively and turned to go.
"Mick."
He stopped.
"I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself."
He didn't really know what to say to that, so he just kept his mouth shut.
"Snart told me - more than once - that I wasn't a killer anymore. Laurel told me that I could be a hero, in the light. But…they're gone. And…sometimes, I feel like there's nothing left to keep me from the darkness. I killed Savage."
"So did I. Piece of shit had it coming."
"I enjoyed it," Sara confessed in a small voice.
"So did I," Mick repeated. "Look…Sara…Savage was four thousand years of bad news. Somebody had to end him. If Snart was there…I think he woulda iced Savage, just so you wouldn't have to live with this."
"But he's gone, and I broke Savage's neck, and I have to live with that."
"Don't beat yourself up over doing what had to be done."
"I don't. Not for doing it…for enjoying it. And now…I want to kill Damien Darhk, more than anything. So much that it's all I can think of, sometimes."
"The world ain't gonna miss him much, either. I'll fry him myself, if I get the chance. Just…don't do nothin' stupid. Snart'll come back and haunt me if I let you get yourself killed. And eat something."
"Thanks, Mick."
He took a long look around the room. Snart's parka hung over the back of the chair that Sara occupied, and there was a deck of cards and a hairbrush on the desk, but not much else to show that the room was actually lived in.
"Ya know, I really don't think he'd mind if you spread your stuff around in here," Mick said quietly.
Sara shrugged. "It's not like I came aboard with all that much."
He looked around at the bare walls. "I dunno…a coupla posters of pretty girls, maybe?" he suggested with a leer.
"Go away, Mick."
A couple of days later, Sara returned to her quarters to find a dart board installed on the wall. She smiled, and reached for the box of darts that had been left on the desk.