Amaya paused outside the door to Sara's quarters, as a particularly rancid curse was followed by the dull thwack of plastic hitting the inside of the door.

"Sara? Are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I said I'm fine!"

Amaya hesitated for a moment. She didn't know the captain very well, yet, and was often confused by the varying standards of privacy and camaraderie practiced by the Waverider's crew. But she did know pain when she heard it. "Gideon, please open the door."

Sara looked up when she heard the door open. "Look, I said I was fine," she repeated, obviously dredging up a veneer of calm from goodness-knew-what reserve of strength.

Amaya stooped to pick up the comb that had been flung against the door. It was missing a couple of teeth, and there was a rather large snarl stuck in the ones that remained. "This looks like it hurt."

"Believe me, I've had worse," Sara replied, raking her hand through the tangled mess of her hair.

"Look, why don't you just let me help you?" Amaya offered. "You know," she said, trying another tack, "a captain who looks like she just rolled out of bed doesn't engender much respect in her crew."

Sara chuckled ruefully. "You may have a point," she conceded.

"All right then." She stepped up behind Sara's chair. "Looks like there's a couple of pins still stuck in here, all the way in the back," she said, disentangling them, then using her fingers to try and loosen some of the knots. "I've heard the others mention that you had a sister who died recently. Is this something she would do for you?"

"Laurel? Sure, when we were younger."

An expression of guarded pain flitted across Sara's face. Amaya saw it in the mirror, but didn't quite know what to make of it. She covered her confusion by picking up a brush and separating a section of Sara's hair to work on.

Sara didn't quite know how to explain to this woman who she didn't really know all that well, and who had most recently been living in a rather more reserved decade, that it wasn't her sister she was missing just then. Snart had caught her more than once post-mission in a similar predicament. Those sensitive fingers of his were particularly talented at ferreting out hair pins and detangling curls. He seemed to enjoy running his hands through her hair as much as she enjoyed the attention.

Amaya finished with Sara's hair and laid down the brush. "There. All done."

"Thanks," she replied, startled from her reverie.

"Any time," Amaya said, smiling. She turned back at the door. "Sara? I know we don't know each other very well, yet, but whoever it is that you're missing? The fact that it hurts is what makes you human. It's what separates us from those we're fighting against."

"I know." Sara looked down at the table, making a show of searching for a hair tie. When she looked up again, her captain's mask was firmly in place.