Falling. Leonard Snart remembered falling. He remembered the sickening upward rush of the ground, and the terrible fear of the pain he was about to experience. He'd scrooged his eyes shut, only to have visions of the beloved faces he was about to lose forever dance in his mind's eye. Lisa. Mick. Sara. Maybe…he'd never really been a church going fellow, but maybe he'd see his mother again.
He sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to catalogue sensations. He was lying on some hard surface. His spine was giving him hell for that. Except…if he'd hit the pavement from that height, shouldn't he - literally - be nothing more than a wet stain upon the landscape? At the very least, his spine and skull should be shattered. He shouldn't be able to feel grit from the road irritating the back of his neck. Or anything, really.
Hands removed his goggles, and he let them, not really having the strength to do much of anything just yet. He blinked up and saw Ray, Firestorm, and Hunter gazing down at him, with varying levels of concern.
"Please tell me nobody kissed me," he groaned.
A light figure with a golden halo moved at the edges of his vision. He blinked, and the image resolved itself into Sara, backlit by the sun.
"Not even me?" she asked. Her tone was light, but he could see her lip trembling.
"Might make an exception for you," he mumbled.
"You'd better," she informed him, dropping to her knees, and letting her forehead rest against his. She sat up abruptly and smacked his shoulder. "Don't you ever do that to me again!"
Later. Later, she would explain how Ray had flown up and caught him, and how she'd fallen to her knees and pressed her lips to his, just a brief touch to reassure herself that he was still alive, before being called back into the fray. Now, though, Sara stretched out beside him on the pavement, and laid her head on his chest, reveling in the steady beat of his heart.