"Snart? There you are," Sara said triumphantly, having finally located the thief skulking in his quarters. "Why are you holed up in here? Come on…we've got cinnamon rolls and hot cocoa."

"Pass."

Sighing softly, Sara came and knelt in front of the chair where Snart was sprawled, resting her arms on his outstretched legs. "Leonard, I know it sucks that you can't be with Lisa today -"

"She's fine. I have it on good authority that she's being included in all of the Star Labs holiday festivities."

"That's great. So why are you sitting by yourself in a dark room?"

"Why not?"

Sara smacked his leg lightly. "Is this a Snart family tradition? Being a jerk for the holidays?"

"There's no such thing as a Snart family tradition, unless you count being arrested. And holidays…they're for other people. I learned that a very long time ago."

Sara settled herself more comfortably, and rested her chin on her arms. "Tell me?"

He never could refuse her anything, not when she turned those limpid blue eyes on him. He began to speak in a quiet monotone.

"When we were kids, Christmas was all about seeing all the other kids showing off their new toys, while our old man served up a holiday dinner of spam and canned pineapple. If he wasn't in jail, that is. Then it became about seeing those kids who were lucky enough to go away to school, coming home to their loving families. Just a huge reminder of all the things I could never have."

Sara caught his hand and drew it to her cheek. "Hey. That's not you anymore. You're free of your father, and so is Lisa. And you're not alone." She quirked a smile at him, and reached down for a package he hadn't noticed. "And I have it on good authority that Santa thinks you've been a pretty good guy this year." She handed him a surprisingly heavy rectangular package, wrapped in blue paper scattered with silver snowflakes.

Snart stared at the package in silence.

Sara nudged him. "Go on. Open it."

He unfolded the paper with slightly shaking hands. It was a book, a beautiful book of photographs of the collections in the Louvre. "I…this is…"

"You're welcome," Sara told him, with an impish grin.

"Maybe you could go swipe us a couple of those cinnamon rolls, and we could look at this…together?" Snart suggested tentatively.

Sara smiled and bounced to her feet. She paused in the doorway and looked back. "Merry Christmas, Leonard."

"Merry Christmas, Sara."