Author's note: I wrote this a while back as part of my Legends season 1 rewatch and never posted it for some reason. I wanted to post something today for my two-year ficaversary, so...here it is! I think I'm going to resume these.

Thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta!

"And a reminder that one person acting alone can't save the world."

"So I heard you three went for a joyride."

Looking back later, Sara won't be quite sure why she took that particular tone. Maybe because she hadn't expected anyone to be in the cargo bay at that time, let alone Leonard Snart. She'd wanted to be alone, and not in her room where anyone could find her, but here was the biggest pain in the ass on the ship, slumped against the wall, legs stretched out before him, toying with a small object in his hands.

In a way, she supposes, she'd been glad to see him, if only because the bloodlust is still boiling, just under her skin, and while she's no longer in danger of killing anyone (she thinks), she's still looking for a fight.

To her surprise, she doesn't get one.

The man in question lifts his eyes to hers for just a second, then shrugs and lets them drop back to his hands. The object—a tiny toy car, she realizes-keeps flickering through and around those long fingers, and he watches it with an odd intensity, ignoring her.

"Joyride," he mutters. "Right."

If anything, the absence of a fight just makes her angrier. "What the hell else would you call it?" she retorts, allowing her back to slide down the wall across from him as she moves into a sitting position. "Rip said you took the jump ship and went haring off to Central City. To...what? Steal something? Or just be an asshole and prove to the rest of us that you could?"

His shoulders move in a not-quite-a-shrug. He doesn't look at her. "What's it matter?"

Another time, when she was less preoccupied with her own issues, or after she'd gotten to know him better, she might have picked up on the posture, the body language, the lack of eye contact. She might have realized this was a Leonard Snart who was deeply disturbed by something and simply let him be.

But here and now, Sara snaps. Again.

At least this time, it's just verbal.

"Fuck it, answer me, Snart!"

He...flinches.

For the merest fraction of a second, those blue eyes look right at her, and she has the abrupt realization that whatever's happened to him today, it's not at all what she'd thought it was.

In that moment, she thinks, he looks like a scared child.

It's too late to backtrack, and he'd be even unhappier if he suspected any form of sympathy. Sara shuts her mouth and stares at him, trying to figure out what to say that's not quite an apology and won't make things worse.

But it's too late. As she watches, the shutters go back up, the ice moves back into his eyes, and that mobile mouth bends into a smirk that's pure insolence.

"Not that's it's any of your business, but I was trying to...what was the phrase? 'Change my fate,'" he informs her sardonically, the momentary impression of vulnerability gone. "It didn't work."

He shrugs and continues before she can say a word. "And, oh yeah, the threat of…what was it, a time vortex?...if we interacted with our past selves? Another lie from the Time Master. Which we sort of knew from what happened with ol' 'Marty,' but it's good to have more evidence, I suppose."

Sara figures that if he'd really wanted her to leave, he wouldn't have thrown in such a leading comment. It only takes a few seconds to put the pieces together.

"But were you even…you saw yourself?" she asks in a voice that's more surprised than she intends it to be, quickly doing the math. "As...a baby? A toddler?" She may not know Leonard Snart well, but he's sure as hell not the type to do that sort of thing for a lark. "Why?"

He stares at her a long moment, fingers wrapped around the toy car (a police car, she notices now). Then, he looks down at it, almost as if he'd forgotten it was there, and shrugging, gives her the bare-bones account of what'd taken him, Mick and Jax to Central City 1975.

His voice is stark, and unadorned with its usual drawl, the words clipped and emotionless. Sara, listening in silence, isn't quite sure why he'd decided to tell her this. Maybe he just needs to get it out. Maybe he wants someone else on the ship to know the truth before the rumor mill starts in. Maybe...

It doesn't matter. He tells her, and she listens, and when he's finished, she's not sure what to say.

"I..."

Leonard's eyes dart up to hers, sudden fury in them, a rich contrast to his earlier apathy. But Sara's wise enough to know it's not directed at her. Not really.

"It was stupid. And weak," he hisses. "And, as I pointed out, a failure anyway. So can we please talk about something else? That or you can leave."

Sara regards him a long moment until he looks away again.

"It wasn't. Neither stupid nor weak," she says quietly. "I get it."

Leonard snorts, the sound full of scorn. She's not sure if it's directed at her or himself.

"Somehow," he drawls, looking down at the toy in his hands, "I doubt it."

Sara's not sure why it's suddenly so important to her to get through to him. She leans forward, threading her own fingers together in an echo of his posture, considering her words.

"You think it hasn't occurred to me to…to tell my younger self not to get on that boat..." He doesn't know about that, Sara. "…to start the chain of events that led me to the League, to my death? It has. Does that make me weak? Stupid?"

Leonard's watching her again, but now she can't stop, the words rushing out, a deluge.

"I lost control tonight," she says, staring at the wall and avoiding his eyes. "You're not the only one who's tried to change things and failed today. I didn't kill, but I wanted to. I wanted to, like an addict wants a fix. It's still there, a beast on my shoulder, and I'm starting to wonder if I'm ever going to beat it. I don't want to be that person anymore. But I'm not sure I have a choice."

She takes another shuddering breath. "You think I said that about changing fate on a whim? I get it, Snart. I get it in ways you don't even understand. I feel like an imposter here. But I'm trying.

"It doesn't make us weak. Not me, and not you. It makes us strong. We're not giving up. We're still trying. Despite...everything."

She semi-expects to see scorn in his eyes when she finally looks back at him. She doesn't. She's not quite sure what that look in those blue eyes means, but it's not scorn.

And after a few moments, he even offers her a half-smile.

"What a bunch of losers we are." The quiet words aren't as insulting as they could have been. They might even be an odd attempt at camaraderie.

"Well," she tells him with a sigh, watching him across the cargo bay and wondering, "at least we're not… alone."