A queasy feeling grew in Sara Lance's stomach as she walked down the darkened corridor of the Waverider, towards her quarters. Something was off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. A metallic clanking sound made her stop dead in her tracks and turn around. Sara stilled her breath, and narrowed her eyes, taking in every detail around her. The corridor was silent. There was no one else around but her. Releasing her breath, she turned and carried on walking.

Yes, she was on edge, but to be honest, she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been. Her life-and death-had been… Eventful, so far. But this was different. With everything that had happen lately, and with Rip…

Sara tapped the door to her quarters open and slipped in, desperate to push Rip out of her mind. She'd forgiven him, hadn't she? Why was this still bothering her? It wasn't like it had been the first time she'd been murdered. She'd get over it.

Probably.

Sara walked across the room and pulled a bottle of whiskey from a drawer. She paused, a little frown growing on her face. When had she put this here?

"I never pegged you for a whiskey girl," someone drawled behind her. She jumped, nearly dropping the bottle, and spun on her heels. No. It couldn't-

But it was.

Leonard Snart.

Captain Cold himself was standing in her doorway, arms crossed, a smirk on his face. But…?

Leonard ignored the look of confusion on her face. "Are you going to share, or is this a party for one?" He asked, dropping his arms and stepping into her room.

Without saying a word, she held the bottle out to him, and he took it. He unscrewed the top and took a drink. "What are you doing here?" She finally asked.

"I thought you might want some… company," Leonard put the bottle down.

"You died." She knit her brows. Had he? She wasn't as certain as she'd been moments before. A memory tugged at the back of her mind, but she pushed it away. Of course he hadn't died. He was standing right in front of her. Leonard said nothing, keeping those mischievous eyes of his on her. Sara held his gaze as she walked closer, stopping only inches away from him. His smirk got a little wider. She leaned forward, grabbing the bottle and bringing it to her lips. The whiskey burned as it slid down her throat, but she didn't flinch. "So… What did you have in mind?" She asked.

"We could drink… Shoot the breeze..." Leonard cocked his head slightly. "Get to know each other."

Sara raised one eyebrow. "We already know each other pretty well," she said, although she was pretty sure that wasn't what he really meant. His long fingers brushed hers as he took the bottle from her. She let it go without protest. She'd lost interest in the whiskey, anyway.

Leonard leaned in closer. "Not in the way that counts," He said, his voice low. He tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering by her cheek.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked, with a smile that indicated she knew exactly what he was doing.

The question didn't faze him. His hand stayed where it was, his icy blue eyes grew brighter. "Well..." He started. "I'd say you only live once, but… That doesn't really apply to you, does it?"

Before she could think of a witty comeback, Leonard pulled her to him and kissed her. Sara froze for half a second, as a bolt of electricity shot through her, and then she was kissing him back. His mouth tasted of burnt toast and molasses.

His hand slipped down to the side of her neck as she sank into him. Leonard wrapped his other arm around her waist, spinning them around and pinning Sara against the wall. His hand moved to her throat, and she felt him smile against her lips as he tightened his hold slightly. Sara smiled back. She wasn't surprised Leonard liked to play rough, and she was more than willing to play along.

She was about to slip her hands under his shirt when Leonard's grip on her throat tightened to an uncomfortable level. And then tightened some more. Sara tried to pull air into her lungs, but there was none. He pulled his mouth away from her. He was still smiling, but his eyes had gone hard.

Cold.

Her hands flew up to free herself, but his grip was impossibly strong. He kept smiling at her and she clawed at his hand. "I can't… Breathe!" She managed to rasp. Her heart was thumping in her ears, her vision was blurring. And then Leonard's smile was gone, replaced by a contemptuous snarl. She'd never seen so much hate in his eyes before. In anyone's eyes. Her lungs were burning. Her arms were turning to lead. Why couldn't she…? How was he so strong? "Len… It's me… Sara..."

"You say that, as if it's supposed to mean something to me..." He slid her up against the wall and off the ground, a vice like grip still around her neck. Sara opened her mouth, but no sound came out. No, God, not again… She was out of air. Out of time. Her vision dimmed.

"It doesn't." Leonard twisted his wrist sharply.

SNAP

Sara sat up gasping, clawing at her own throat. It took a few seconds for her to remember where she was. She glanced around, breath coming in hard, hand still clutching her throat. She was in her quarters. Leonard wasn't. Sara closed her eyes. Because Leonard was dead. She took a deep breath, and dropped her hand, forcing out a small, nervous chuckle. Leonard had shown up in her dreams before, but… Never quite like that. He'd never tried to kill her, anyway.

Sara kicked off of her sheets and stood up. She had no idea what time it was, but when you were flying about outside of time, it didn't really matter. She padded out into the corridor and made her way to the galley, where she came to a stop in front of the food generator, a slight frown on her face. Not that she'd admit it to anyone, but she still hadn't quite figured how to use the damn thing. Fly a timeship? No problem. Take down an army of deadly assassins? Piece of cake. Getting an actual piece of cake out of this thing? Impossible.

Sara bashed buttons on the screen until she was holding a glass of orange juice. She paused as she was about to bring it her lips, then put it down without taking a sip. She couldn't get the taste of burnt toast and molasses out of her mind. A lot more button bashes later, Sara was holding a glass of whiskey. She'd even managed to generate a cube of ice. Go her.

"I never pegged you for a whiskey girl," someone said behind her. She jumped, and spun on her heels to find Rip Hunter standing a few paces away from her.

"Jesus Rip! Don't sneak up on me." She narrowed her eyes. "I could have killed you."

"Then we'd be even, I guess." He smiled, trying for a joke, but it fell flat. The smile fell away, and they stood in awkward silence for a few seconds.

"Couldn't sleep?" He finally asked.

"No… Just..." Sara looked down at her glass. "...Thirsty." Right, thirsty for whiskey. She put the glass down, next to the orange juice. Rip's eyebrows knit into an amused frown as he spotted both glasses.

"I can't work this thing," she finally admitted, pointing at the food generator. It was kinda true, really. It was also far less embarrassing than telling Rip she was out here because she had a sexy turned murderous dream about Leonard Snart and was craving some whiskey.

Rip chuckled. "You know what?" He leaned forward, as if he was about to share a huge secret, and lowered his voice. "Neither do I."

Sara smiled at his confession, even though she was 100% sure he was lying. He knew this ship like the back if his hand. Another awkward silence fell between them. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he could barely hold her gaze. Her death hung between them. Would it always? He hadn't moved past it. And, judging by her recent dream, neither had she. Her throat tightened, as if an invisible hand was squeezing it shut. She raised her hand involuntarily to it, and Rip looked away.

He rubbed at his beard and almost turned to leave, before changing his mind and turning back to her. His eyes remained locked on a spot on the floor between them. "Miss Lance…Sara. I know I've said this before but..." He paused, keeping his gaze averted. Sara forced her hand to drop to her side. Rip let out the breath he was holding and finally lifted his eyes to hers. "I am truly sorry. What I did..." He shook his head. "It is unforgivable."

It was Sara's turn to look away. When she looked back, she had a small smile on her face. "Yet, I've forgiven you," she said.

Rip's voice was barely a whisper. "I haven't." Emotions flickered through his eyes. Anger, guilt. Defeat. "I don't think I'll ever forgive myself."

"Rip, it wasn't you," she said. "If anyone's to blame it's-" Sara hesitated, then rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe she was about to say it. "It's The Legion of Doom."

"The what...?"

Sara shook her head, refusing to repeat it. "Never mind, long story." She stepped closer to Rip and put a hand on his shoulder. "The important thing to remember is, that wasn't you. You didn't make those choices." Rip met her gaze, and she was briefly taken aback by his proximity. She forgot what she was going to say next. Words from her dream floated through her head.

I'd say you only live once…

Sara dropped her hand and stepped back. Rip looked away again. "Goodnight… Captain Hunter." She saw him smile just before she turned.

"Goodnight, Captain Lance," he replied, as she disappeared into the darkened corridor. She was gone by the time he picked up the glass of whiskey Sara had left behind, knocking it back in one smooth motion. He set the glass back down gently before walking out of the galley, his mouth full of burnt toast and molasses.

A.N.: The inspiration for this came from a dream I had last week, where I made out with Leonard Snart and then he tried to kill me. True story.

A.A.N.: I'm accepting prompts, PM me!