It's a setup. She knows that, going in. It was too easy to find him, too easy to get inside. She doesn't make the others wait outside because they'd get in the way, though that's the excuse she gives Rip. She makes them wait outside because every instinct in her body is screaming that she's about to walk directly into a trap.
Mick was the hardest to convince. He'd been adamant about going in with her, that's my partner in there, Blondie, but Snart would never forgive her if she let something happen to the brooding arsonist. In the end it took threatening to drug him and lock him back on the Waverider to get him to agree to wait outside with the others. There aren't any guards when she slips into the warehouse, no patrol outside, no men on the inside either. It's entirely wrong, and every cell in her body wants to get out of there, but they have Leonard. So she creeps on.
The main section of the depot is totally abandoned, but Sara knows that Snart, and what's sure to be a plethora of assailants, are waiting in the office. So that's where she heads, footsteps silent on the concrete, eyes sweeping the exposed space. She comes to the office door, and years of training have prepared her to be ready for anything, but despite the many anomalies in her life, she's still human. Taking a deep breath, she kicks the door open.
He's there, tied to a chair, looking unbelievably small and still, and for a second she thinks it's too late.
"No," she gasps, leaping forward, and that moment is her mistake, her emotions betray her training. He's cold under her fingers, but begins to stir at her touch. His eyes drag open, and when he sees her, he groans.
"I was really hoping you weren't this stupid," he mutters, and she frowns.
"Who says I-"
She hears the whistling of a fist flying through the air, just a fraction of a second of warning, but it's enough. She whirls around, catching the fist in her hand and using it to catapult her assailant across the room. Her entire body falls into fighting stance, knees bent, weight on her toes.
"And yet, I knew someone would come. You people are so predictable." Savage waltzes in, flanked by two other men. He frowns at the groaning stooge on the ground. "You know, I'm really not surprised it was you. I had hoped it would be Chay-ara, but…" He shrugs. When he waves two fingers at Snart, his henchmen move forward, reaching for the half-unconscious thief. Sara catches the first one by the throat, flipping him into a heap on top of the other.
Savage raises an eyebrow.
"Protective, are we?"
The monster creeps into her blood as she stares at him, chest heaving. Suddenly, he blinks out of sight, disappearing into thin air.
"Wha-" She gasps. That's a new trick. Then she hears a smacking blow, and a groan behind her. She spins around in time to see Savage standing over Leonard, whose mouth is dripping with blood.
"You seem to forget that it's been almost ten years since we've seen each other. Although you've aged spectacularly well." Savage muses, flexing his hand. "I've learned a few things since then."
"Apparently," she replies, mouth dry. Her eyes are trained on him, watching, but the overwhelming desire to make sure Leonard is alright is pulling at her focus.
"So, I have some questions for you, and you're going to answer them, or your little friend over here will go the same way as Prince Khufu."
Her hands curl into fists. Humans, she can take. Even other league-trained assassins. But demi-gods?
"Why are you and your little team of heroes so interested in me? Simply because of your Captain's vendetta?"
She presses her lips together.
"Yes." She can't tell him the truth. It's one thing for him to find out about Rip's mission for revenge. It's another thing entirely for Vandal Savage to find out that he's very close to wiping out life as they know it. He studies her face, then smiles sympathetically.
"Ah. You're lying. That's too bad." His fist sinks into Snart's stomach, causing the smaller man to grunt in pain. The red dripping down his chin seems to expand, filtering across her entire field of vision. Everything turns scarlet. It's a warning sign, and she knows it.
"How about you and I take this outside, and you pick on someone who isn't restrained and half conscious?" she suggests. He shakes his head.
"No, I think this will be much more effective." Something glints in his hand, and she recognizes the same blade that was used to take out Carter. Still dazed, Leonard eyes the knife as well, face tightening in apprehension.
"I'll break your neck before the blade breaks his skin," she growls, the red haze taking over. It feels like electricity is running through her veins, buzzing under her skin. He takes a step toward Snart, and her control snaps. The demon takes over. Before any of the men in the room can blink, she's sinking a knife of her own through Savage's ribs, feeling the satisfying pop as she punctures his heart. He wheezes, struggling to take in air, and she twists the knife.
"Sara."
Hand still clamped around the knife, she can hear her name, distorted, like it's coming from far away.
"Sara."
Leonard's voice, slightly weak but still firm, penetrates the sound of blood roaring in her ears. She releases the knife, and Savage, and they fall to the ground with a thud. Her hands are soaked in red, and she wipes them on her thighs before turning to face him.
"Are you okay?" She asks, crouching down to untie him.
"I'll live. Unfortunately, so will Savage." He coughs, and she can hear something wrong in it. A broken rib maybe. The ties fall away, and he rotates his shoulders with a sigh, stretching his arms.
"Can you walk?"
"I guess we'll find out," Snart says, nodding toward the pile of bodies in the corner. Two of them are beginning to move. "It looks our friends are waking up."
Putting an arm around his waist, she tugs him up and out of the chair. He's leaning heavily on her, but manages to limp forward. It's clear that Savage's men had a bit of fun with him before she got there.
"You shouldn't have come," he mutters, and she can practically feel his frustration at their slow pace. She doesn't like it either, but she's not sure she's strong enough to carry him. And even if she was, she doubts he'd allow it.
"We have a code, remember?"
"I don't remember it including suicide."
"You could just say thank you," she says with a sigh, the feeling of being followed beginning to prickle at the back of her neck.
"You shouldn't have come," he repeats.
"Damn it," she swears, trying to hurry and practically dragging him in the process. His grip on her shoulder tightens, and he winces. She's trying not to jostle him too much, but they're running out of time.
"What?" he wants to know.
"They're about to catch us," she says with a sigh, because she knows their odds going at this speed. They're not going to make it.
"So leave me."
She almost stops, almost turns to stare at him when he says it, but instinct pushes her forward.
"I'm not leaving you."
"Sara-"
"Shut up," she says angrily. "I didn't go through all of this just to leave you fifty feet from the door."
He falls quiet, and she doesn't like it. He's only quiet when he's thinking, and that never leads to anything good. She knows when the first blow is coming, and pushes Leonard to the ground. The guard's fist bounces off her shoulder, and she hisses, but she rounds on him with a solid kick, knocking him backwards.
"Stay down," she commands Snart. Leaping back to her feet, she swings at the second attacker, landing a hit squarely in the face. His nose breaks, blood immediately pouring from his nostrils like a faucet. Behind her, she hears the first guard go for Leonard. Sliding a throwing knife out of her belt, she flings it behind her, satisfied when the pained grunt comes from an unfamiliar voice.
It only takes her another minute or so to subdue the one who's left, and then she turns back to Leonard. He's still laying where she left him, watching the guard beside him bleed out impassively. She reaches down and pulls him back to his feet.
"Alright?"
He looks at her. His eyes are dark, troubled. They sweep over her face, locking onto her own gaze, and she gets the feeling he's looking for something.
"Leonard," she repeats, shaking his shoulders gently. "Are you alright?"
He blinks.
"Sure." When she continues to frown at him, he raises an eyebrow. "Weren't we in the middle of a daring escape?"
Rolling her eyes, she resumes her effort in half guiding, half dragging him toward the door. She can see it, the flash of grey in the corner of the wall, the red exit sign. They're almost there. And then the hairs on the back of her neck stand up again. But this time it's different.
It barely takes her a second to make the decision. She lunges forward, practically throwing Snart outside. He looks startled, for a moment, before he lands in a crumpled heap on the sidewalk. And then his eyes snap back to her, widening as she slams the door shut behind him.
The first bullet doesn't make it through the suit. But the spear does.
The noise that comes out of her mouth is half cry, half growl. Pain razes her stomach as the lance goes all the way through. She falls to her knees, the sensation that her insides are being torn apart deepening as her legs hit the ground.
"Bitch," the man who speared her spits, a face she doesn't recognize. Probably one of Savage's men, out for revenge after finding their boss laying in a pool of his own blood. But it's her blood that's pooling now beneath her feet, her scream as the man rears back, ripping the spear from her body. Her fingers claw at her sides, finding the wound. It's a hole. She can put her fingers through it.
It takes every ounce of discipline, every memory of her training, but she pushes back to her feet. She sways there, Laurel's face flashing before her eyes, her father's smile. What happens to them if she dies again? Will they even know?
Her fists come up, and this time the haze dancing around her vision is black. She doesn't want to die again, at least not without taking her killer down too. His mouth has dropped open in shock, staring at her as she struggles to focus her eyes.
She manages to land one good punch, the twisting motion only adding to the feeling that her entire abdomen is torn to shreds. But it's enough to send him down, and his head cracks sickly on the pavement. He won't be coming after her anytime soon.
Excruciatingly, she turns for the door, managing to get two steps before collapsing. The concrete comes up to meet her, cold and unforgiving as she slams into it. It knocks the air from her lungs, and she finds herself dazed and paralyzed. Surprisingly, it's not the idea of dying here that presses down on her chest like an anvil.
She just doesn't want to die alone.
As though she willed it, the door, only a few feet away from her, flies open. Leonard tears inside, stumbling a little. When his eyes find her, half curled into a ball on the floor, he swears.
"You shouldn't have come," he says again, even as he falls to his knees beside her, noticing the hole in her side with a flicker of rage.
"A little late for that," she rasps, wincing.
"Is that a spear?" She hears Ray ask in the background.
"Jesus," Mick mumbles. "They skewered her."
Leonard actually cringes at that, hand floating down to hover by her wound.
"It's okay," she murmurs, beginning to feel tired, limbs heavy. "I know it's bad."
"Mmm that's true," he admits, and she would almost buy the casual tone if his voice wasn't shaking. "Luckily for you we've got that nifty 22nd century tech back on our spaceship to fix you right up."
She laughs, which is a mistake. It just fills her mouth with more blood than before, and she can't breathe. Snart rolls her enough that she can spit it out, gasping. His hands linger, one under her neck, the other on her arm.
"S'alright, Len," she mumbles. Why is it so cold? "This ain't my first rodeo…or…funeral." It's getting harder to talk, her tongue feels enormous and heavy.
For the first time, it really occurs to her that she's not going to make it. Then another thought seizes her, one that bothers her far more than the first. She grabs at Leonard's chest, suddenly urgent.
"Promise me." Her hand curls into the material of his jacket, an iron grip.
"What?" He stares down at her, confusion mixing with alarm.
"You have to promise you won't let them do it again!" Her voice comes out loud enough to echo in the empty warehouse, but the pain is beginning to darken her vision around the edge, and this is important. This is everything.
"Do what?"
"I don't want to come back that way," she coughs, and the metallic taste of blood fills her mouth once more, bubbling over her lips. "You can't let them use the Pit-"
His ice blue eyes widen in understanding, a hand coming to wrap around her own on his chest.
"There's no need to be dramatic," but his voice is strained, eyes dark with something suspiciously resembling fear. "Gideon will take care of this, and you'll be back to your usual violent self in-"
"Leonard!" Her voice comes out as commanding as she can manage given the steady stream of blood now gurgling past her lips. "Promise me!"
His hand tightens around hers, so hard she thinks it might hurt if she could even feel her fingers anymore. Then he nods.
"Okay. No Lazarus Pit. You have my word."
A tear of relief spills over, hot on her cheek.
"Thank you," she whispers, though she doubts he can even understand her through all the blood and the shaking and the numbness of her lips. The black begins to creep in, and for once, she's not afraid. Of herself, or dying, or any of it. She feels free. "Thank you."
And then, finally, she lets it in.