Because a few people asked for Sara finding the if-I don't-come-back message! A sequel to "Secret Santa."
A few days after the rescue, the Waverider is still in the time stream, while Rip and Miranda try to figure out what to do next and Rip gets reacquainted with his family. The captain—when they see him, anyway—seems to walk around the ship in a dazed, happy fog, a state that has his crew somewhat amused. A truly happy Rip is a thing none of them have really seen before.
Sara, wandering about the ship a bit aimlessly one of these afternoons, will admit that she's pleased for him. Truly, she is. But the uncertainty now before them is giving her just a bit of anxiety, to be honest. What becomes of the team if their captain decides to go back to simply being a husband and father?
She's no longer an assassin. Not at heart. She's not ready to go back to being a simple vigilante in Star. And there's a crook-turned-hero on this ship whose company has become a part of who she is.
Sara sighs, trailing her fingers along one of the corridor walls as she walks. It's not that they've defined what they are to each other, not really. And physically, they're taking it slow, which isn't without its frustrations, but Len admits sheepishly that he has some issues to work through.
And Sara's actually enjoying helping with that. She smiles to herself, stretching, thinking about the leisurely way they'd spent hours exploring what she'd so juvenilely called "second base" last night. She's never appreciated the long hours in the time stream in quite this way before.
She shivers, then, thinking of long, talented fingers (and a warm, talented mouth), the close warmth of a nicely muscled body, of scars and stories shared and the look in those eyes as she…
Still, now she's bored. And restless. And it seems like everyone else is otherwise occupied, so she's wandering about, trying to shake off some of the restlessness that keeps her from simply reading or watching something or even caring for her equipment in her room.
"…OK, now, pick a card…"
Her steps slow as she hears Len's voice, its familiar insolent drawl absent, tone careful in a way that's not his usual MO. Curious, she detours down the other corridor, stopping to peek into the rec room and study the scene there.
Len is seated, cross-legged, on the sofa, across from Jonas Hunter, who's watching him—or rather, the cards he's holding—with an intent air. She sees the man register her presence, but he doesn't acknowledge it quite yet, instead cutting the deck with one of his fancy one-handed moves as the boy watches.
Jonas has adopted a bit of a hero-worship attitude with Len; not so surprising, really, when you consider the circumstances of his rescue. The crook seems faintly nonplussed by it, but tends to indulge the kid, who's taken to trailing him about the ship, asking questions and watching him with great curiosity. The only other one of them he seems to find nearly so interesting is Jax, who can pilot the jump ship and has a video game setup in his room that Jonas finds fascinating.
"What are you two up to?" she asks, moving into the room so Jonas can see her. "Hello, Jonas. How are you today?"
The boy smiles at her, his eyes shining. Now that she's actually seen Rip smiling, real smiles and not just sad or self-deprecating ones, Sara can actually see the resemblance between them, although there's Miranda in her son, too. For all the stresses in his life so far, Jonas seems to be a happy child, and an intelligent one, curious and interested in everything.
A sudden, furtive speculation on what a child of hers and Leonard's would look like, be like, sneaks its way into her thoughts, then, stunning her with its unexpectedness.
Jonas doesn't seem to notice her sudden distraction, although Len lifts an eyebrow at her. "I'm well, thank you, Ms. Lance," he says, so politely that Sara can see Len rolling his eyes behind the kid's back, even as he smiles. "Mr. Snart is showing me some card tricks. Have you seen any of them before?"
"Only when he cheats at gin," Sara murmurs under her breath, drawing a snort from Leonard and a questioning frown from Jonas. "Um, no, actually," she says louder, for the boy's benefit. "Guessing the card you picked, that sort of thing?"
"Yes." Jonas glances back over his shoulder at Leonard. "He says if I can come up with a good guess for how he does it, he'll show me slower so I can learn how!"
Good luck, kid. Your father still hasn't figured out how Len does half of what he does. But out loud, she says, "That sounds like fun. I'd sort of like to learn some sleight of hand too." She glances at Len, who looks at her from under his lashes, innuendo clear in his gaze, and smiles. "Some other time, though. Pancakes and bacon for dinner later; Mick's cooking. You like pancakes?"
Jonas' eyes light up. "Yes!"
"Excellent. Good luck." She winks at him. "If you pay attention, maybe you can show us all a trick at dinner."
She can nearly feel Len stifle a sigh, but he obligingly does another one-handed cut as the boy turns to look at him. The kid grins, and Sara fights off another unexpected rush of sentiment at the way Len smile-smirks back.
"Show me that last trick again, please, Mr. Snart?" the boy asks eagerly. "I think I have an idea."
"Sure, kid." He glances at Sara once again as he starts to flourish the cards. "You're welcome to stay, you know."
She considers it, but… "Nah. I'm restless. Too much energy." She winks again and turns away even as she sees Len try to decide if he can get away with a veiled suggestion.
"Have fun," she tells them simply, turning for the door. "Good luck, Jonas."
She takes the chance to examine her speculation, a little, as she heads down the corridor toward the crew's rooms. She likes kids just fine, really. She might even have looked forward to having one or two rug rats someday, back in the innocent years before the Gambit and the island and the League…and the Pit. Since then, with the blood lust and everything else, she hadn't even remotely entertained the notion of something so…normal.
And she'd figured Leonard, with his myriad issues related to his father, wouldn't care for the idea either. But…
"…well. Be happy. And…"
Sara's footsteps slow as she passes Stein's door, which is about a handspan open, and hears his voice, cracking just a little as he speaks. She pauses, somewhat alarmed and just a little curious, and peeks through the gap against her better judgment.
"And…know that I love you, Clarissa, and I always have," he continues. "Goodbye, my dear."
Sara can't remain quiet any longer. "Martin?" she asks quietly into the silence. "Are you OK?"
After just a moment, the professor, looking just a little flustered, gazes through the opening in the doorway at her. "Oh, Ms. Lance," he says, shaking his head, "I didn't realize the door was open at all. I'm sorry. Yes, yes, everything is fine." He pauses, then shakes his head. "Come in, and I'll explain."
Sara drifts through the doorway as Stein opens it farther, curious despite herself. She's never been in Stein's rooms before. They're pretty much exactly as she might have imagined, an eclectic mixture of cluttered and organized: books and journals strewn on the desk, some odd sort of scientific apparatus arranged neatly on a table, the blankets and sheets on his bed folded with mathematical precision. On the viewscreen, an image of Stein himself is frozen in a moment of staring into the camera, a look of concern and, yes, love on his face.
The older man sees Sara looking at it. "Yes, yes, that's what you heard," he says, a little sheepishly. He shakes his head, staring at the image, then looks at a photo (of Clarissa, Sara assumes) that's sitting on the desk amidst the papers.
"The plan, to go to 2166 London…it wasn't without risk," he says finally. "We were going in right under the noses of Savage and his people, and we were cutting it pretty close. Mr. Snart…he worked all the numbers, had it figured to within a hair's breadth of what was, more or less, safe. But…you never know." He smiles a little. "I filmed a message, for Clarissa, in case I didn't come back. I wanted her to know…why."
He shakes his head. "It seems a little silly, now. But…well."
Sara smiles a little in return, studying the picture of the smiling woman. There's humor in Clarissa Stein's eyes and Sara thinks she and the other woman would get along fine.
"It's not silly," she says. "I get it."
Stein nods. Then the look in his eyes turns just a touch sly. "I know Jefferson recorded a message for his mother," he says. "Mr. Snart…I don't know if he recorded any. But I wouldn't be surprised. He's very close with his sister, isn't he? And…others…"
"OK," Sara cuts in, amused. "I get that, too. Perhaps…perhaps 'll ask."
Stein winks at her. Sara winks back.
Later, though, once back in her room, she finds herself hesitating. Len's a very private person, after all. She respects that. And the man who wouldn't bring up "me and you" again in respect to their relationship, out of concern that she'd feel pressured, wouldn't want her seeing something that might exacerbate that.
But…oh, hell with it.
"Gideon, did Leonard leave any messages, before they went to 2166?" she says, staring at the viewscreen. "Like…like the one Stein left for his wife? Well, not necessarily like that one, but…"
The AI's answer is prompt. "Yes, Ms. Lance. He left three."
Three? Sara nibbles her bottom lip. "For whom?"
"One for his sister, a short one for Mr. Rory and…" Gideon pauses a moment now. "And one for…you."
Sara closes her eyes. "And…can you play it for me?"
"He specified that I should play it if he did not return from the mission to rescue Ms. Hunter and Master Jonas."
Sara thinks a moment. "But did he cite any circumstances under which you couldn't play it?"
The silence is even lengthier. Finally, Gideon speaks.
"Mr. Snart," the AI says pointedly, "isn't the only one who knows how to think like a thief."
Sara grins. "So, will you play it?"
In response, the lights dim, and the viewscreen flickers to life.
At first, the screen is empty, showing just Leonard's empty room. Then, the man himself crosses into the picture, taking a seat on his bed, staring into Gideon's camera.
His eyes are…well, they're not quite soft, but they're vulnerable. More vulnerable than she's ever seen them before, with the possible exception of the Oculus.
He stares into the camera so long that Gideon actually speaks on the recording.
"Mr. Snart," she says, almost gently, "would you like me to start again? It's been…"
"No." Len shakes his head. "No, don't. If I don't now, I never will." He looks directly at the camera, and sighs. "Hello, Sara," he murmurs finally, glancing down. "This seems sort of dumb. Sorry."
In the current time, Sara sighs, watching the image, wishing she could reassure him.
"Well," he says after a few more moments, looking back up, some level of his usual distance back in his eyes. "If you're watching this, I didn't make it back from 2166. You'll know why I went there. Hopefully, Stein and Jax made it back, with Miranda and Jonas, even if I don't. I've done everything in my power to make sure that happens." There's resolve in his eyes, and then a flash of humor. "I suppose it's possible we fucked up the timeline beyond all repair, but in that case, you probably won't be seeing this at all." He shrugs. "Sorry. But I doubt that's the case. Even Stein says the theory, the plan, is sound. And this is…this is worth doing."
Sara watches as he pauses again, the look on his face saying clearly that he'd said more than he'd planned. Len closes his eyes and sighs, and when he opens them again, that vulnerability is back.
"But that whole explanation isn't why I'm making this video, is it?" he says with a shake of his head. "Got something I want to say to you, if the whole death thing stuck this time. And I'm not good at this shit. So, bear with me."
Another pause, then Len looks directly at the camera with an air of steeling himself.
"I'm sorry," he says, finally. "Sorry for not saying something sooner. Sorry for being an idiot and pulling the gun on you at the Vanishing Point. I was an ass and I can't undo it. I can only tell you that the only thought in my head was saving something of that godforsaken mission and getting you the hell outta there, but I know that doesn't really help. I just wanted to say it again: I'm sorry."
Leonard pauses again, as if to consider. But it seems like once the words started, they're a little easier for him, Sara thinks, sitting up a little more and wrapping her arms around her knees, watching with a mix of fascination and an odd trepidation. Like a dam has broken, and the flood is escaping.
"I've gone through my life following the same rule I told little me back in Central City 1975," he continues after a minute, staring at her through the screen. "You remember the story. 'Never let anyone hurt you. Not here," he taps his forehead, "but especially not here.' " He taps his heart. "Well, to do that, you just don't let anyone in. Think you know that as well as I do. And I didn't have much of a problem with that."
He shrugs then, and looks down again. When he resumes speaking, still looking away, Sara sucks in a breath at his tone, which is softer than she's ever heard before.
"And then I got here, with this plan of just stealing whatever I could, and there was you. And you wormed your way in there, all those defenses I'd built up were nothing. You just ignored them, or they just…vanished." Len glances up again, humor in his eyes. "Poetic, huh? I have my moments," he says drily. "But it's true. You unsettled me the moment I stepped foot on this damned boat. And then you convinced me I could change my fate, whether or not you were even really trying to do that, and I started to…to…" He shrugs. "To fall. And you kinda know the rest, so I think I'll stop there."
Sara makes an irritated noise at that, staring at the screen, but Len continues speaking, clearly changing the subject on purpose.
"Do you remember the book I was reading when you first asked me to do this stupid Secret Santa thing?" he asks, leaning forward a little. "It's a favorite, really. So I guess it's appropriate that I should feel the urge to say this now. And I'm gonna give into it, 'cause why the hell not?" He pauses, thinking, then quotes: " 'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.' "
Len's voice is very soft by the time he finishes the quote, and he shakes his head roughly. "Don't tell anyone else I said that." He pauses, again, eyes distant, then shrugs.
"Except for Barry," he adds. "You can tell Barry. He'll get it."
After a further moment of what seems to be introspection, he shakes his head and focuses on the camera again, resolve in his eyes.
"Be happy, Sara," he continues. "Forgive yourself for what you had to do to survive. Live. Find someone you can love…you can love like you did your Nyssa. Like I…I…"
He stares into the camera. Sara stares back.
"Well, I think you know," he says quietly. "Goodbye, Sara."
And the message ends.
Sara continues to stare at the blank viewscreen for a few more minutes, then rolls to her feet and heads for the door.
She has an idiot to find.
He's in the galley, because of course the others are starting to gather for dinner there. Sara stops in the doorway and watches as Mick flips pancakes while arguing good-naturedly about something with Jax, and Stein and Ray discuss something with great animation…and apparently with Gideon, too, based on how they're interacting with the nearby viewscreen.
Len is leaning against the counter, watching as Jonas—who's just about glowing with pride—holds a deck of cards out to his mother, who selects one with a smile. Rip is looking on with bemusement and that faint air of amazed disbelief he's worn for the past several days.
Sara waits until the boy has, with only a few fumbles of the cards, gleefully finished the trick before she enters the room, heading toward Leonard with unmistakable purpose. He straightens out of his lean as she approaches, smirking at her—but the smirk vanishes abruptly as she grabs him by the shoulders, pulling him toward her, then going up on her toes to kiss him, hard, transferring her hands to the back of his head to hold him there.
After a moment of stunned shock, he wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her back. Jonas makes gagging noises. (He's joined, nearly immediately, by Mick.) Miranda laughs; Rip sighs. There's a low, pleased hum of noise from the others, but Sara's stopped paying attention.
Somehow, against all odds, they're both here, both alive. And they've finally stopped dancing around each other, finally taken a step on their road together. The future is wide open in front of them, with all the options that entails.
And it's worth celebrating.