She keeps talking to him. Which is ridiculous, she decides, because he can't hear anything. And if he could, she wouldn't be saying half of what she was saying.

"... so, you really need to wake up, because if I have to have to stay on this ship with all these people who just don't ... get it ... I might go a little crazy, OK? A little crazier." She rubs her eyes again, tired. "You know that, right?"

No answer. She wouldn't put it past Leonard goddamn Snart to pretend he was listening just to have ammo later, though, and the thought actually makes her smile.

Another throat is cleared behind her. She'd tracked the footsteps earlier, though, and so she just waits for Jax to make his way fully into the room.

"Um..."

"He's stable, he's out, and if he makes it through the night, he'll probably be back to his felonious self in no time."

"... oh."

The young man shrugs uncomfortably, but steps further into the room. She's slightly impressed. She knows from an amused Stein that he has declared her "really, really scary" and she's not in a mood to modulate the "I can kill you with my pinky" vibes right now.

"Did anyone tell you about the emerald?"

She listens in silence as he describes his escapade with Snart and Rory back in 1975, where they went, and what Snart, anyway, did.

And why.

"You didn't tell Hunter."

"Well, I figure people deserve some secrets, you know? Especially one like that." His chin comes up a little bit. "Everyone has their shit."

She holds the story in her mind for a moment. It ... gels ... with what she knows, the little bits and pieces she's gleaned. Another angle to a man with many angles.

"I just figured someone else ought to know," Jax tellsher. "I mean, well ... shouldn't someone tell his sister?"

"I know about the sister," she admits, letting him wonder how. "We just can't go anywhere at the moment."

"Yeah ... right. But if ..." he stops, then finishes a bit lamely. "He saved my life, you know? I didn't give him enough credit."

"I don't think many people do."

xxxxxx

The boy is angry.

It's better than fear.

He hates his father. Hates him.

Lying there in the dark, he is furious. Furious at his father. Angry at his poor, cowed mother. Angry at the classmates who mock his often too-small and tattered clothes, at the teachers who frown at his unexplained absences and ignore the black eyes.

You'll be nothing, they say.

I will, he snarls.

xxxxx

From anyone else, she would have called that a whimper.

She can't imagine Leonard Snart whimpering.

But she hesitates, watching, and sees his mouth curl in what seems like pain.

Hunter had assured her that there are copious painkillers in the mixture being pumped into his veins ... but she knows all too well there are many kinds of pain.

His fingers are twitching. She hesitates, then slips her hand back into his again.

And again, the immediacy and strength of his grip startle her.

Impulsively, she places her other hand over their clasped ones. His fingers still.

"You're a complex man, Mr. Snart," she muses. "And an intriguing one."

No answer. No Snart snark. No lifted eyebrow, no drawled commentary, no mild innuendo.

Just an unconscious man who'd come within a heart's beat of bleeding out just hours ago. The same one who'd saved her life a few times, and her soul at least once.

"You're supposed to be a super villain," she tells him. "What's up with that?"

Was that a smirk?

xxxx

The boy hates being weak.

If he was stronger, he tells himself, he wouldn't mind. It's better, being alone. If you are alone, if you don't trust anyone, no one can hurt you.

"Don't ever let anyone hurt you. Ever," a ghostly voice whispers in his ear. "... You always have to look out for yourself."

But here in the dark, hurting and alone and cold, he can admit, silently, that it would be nice to have ... someone ... to trust. Really trust, not just "OK, not a threat for now" or "until you decide I'm not worth it." Because he is lonely.

Stupid thought, that. Of course he's lonely. Life is, isn't it? At least, when you were like him, the beaten-up son of a crook.

Some people just don't get more.

xxxxx

Ray is getting on her nerves.

He's dropped by for the same reason the rest have, ostensibly, but now he's standing there staring at Snart like he's some sort of a ... bug ... and that just pisses her off.

"It could have been you, you know," she tells him.

He looks startled. "I didn't see anyone out there. I stayed with the group. What do you ..."

"Not what I meant." She wraps her arms around herself again. She's kept the medbay relatively chilly, for ... reasons. "I just ... if your life had been different, you might have been the crook and he'd be the scientist."

Ray looks baffled and she kicks herself. Maybe what she'd seen in his face hadn't been what she'd thought she saw. Just typical Ray cluelessness. And she doesn't want to tell stories that aren't hers to tell.

When the hell had she become protective of Leonard goddamn Snart?