Author's Note: And we're back - in the 90s! Thanks so much for all the kind feedback and support on the last chapter. I'm so glad you guys liked it and hope you enjoy this one too! Fun fact, all of the 90s scene was supposed to be one chapter, but thanks to ClaudiaRain and all of her hilarious suggestions it's now going to be three (hopefully I can stick to that and eventually get back around to the actual fix-it plot - we'll see). So yes, thanks again ClaudiaRain for all your input and for looking this over (twice)! Disclaimer: I don't own LoT.

Central City – April 24, 1996

Riotous.

That was the only word Sara could think to describe the crowded mess of police officers, reporters and bystanders waiting outside of the bank. This was always going to happen, she reminded herself, glaring at anyone who met her eye and struggling not to feel responsible for the spectacle. With the scream of sirens blasting in her ears and the sight of Leonard's cuffed hands before her, it wasn't easy.

She frowned, wondering what her teammates were thinking. They'd yet to come to her rescue, which was the good news. That must mean they trusted her to get out of this on her own. She couldn't imagine what story she would tell them about what happened – obviously not the truth.

She snorted just imagining how that would go. Yeah guys, I almost got shot but Leonard saved me, no big deal. Everything with the mission went to hell of course and we got arrested, you know, the usual. Oh right, I know our Leonard's dead and all, it was the past version of him. Why would I find that upsetting?

She was grateful she'd turned her comm off, and that it was tucked safely in her boot. The tech was so advanced, it only picked up sound right next to a speaker's mouth, so even if it were on, no one would hear a thing. Which meant she was entirely on her own.

Well, except for the 20-something crook who'd come to her rescue.

She had to admit, he was here because of her. But she had no idea why. Why he'd come back into the bank. Why he'd saved her life. Why he'd led her into the vaults to stop the robbers. Had he really thought it was worth the risk for the off chance they'd come out with the goods themselves? It wasn't like him to put himself in danger without a plan, when there was so much that could've gone wrong.

Maybe he was just more impulsive at this age. Or more arrogant, as if that were possible.

He certainly didn't seem bothered by their predicament. They were separated in the line by Officer Daley and a few others, sirens and shouting voices making it impossible to hear him. But she could see his lips moving, curved up at the edges as he turned to give Daley what she could only assume was a string of colorfully snide remarks. He was acting suspiciously like he was having fun – and it made her want to smack him.

Or maybe, she thought, she could just kiss that stupid smirk off his face. Or whisper in his ear about what "fun in handcuffs" should really look like, or –

No. She shouldn't, couldn't let herself go there. But once she started that train of thought, it was awfully hard to stop.

They'd been taken out and around the bank through a side door, avoiding the worst of the zoo spilling out onto the bank's steps. Vaguely, she realized they were being steered toward a squad car, and her stomach dropped.

Shit. This is actually happening.

Even with the chafe of metal cuffs against her wrists, it still didn't seem possible. Even as an officer reached for the car's handle, and opened the door, it still didn't seem real, not even as Leonard was pushed inside –

A white light flashed in her eyes. She started, momentarily dazed as sparkling dots floated across her vision. When she finally blinked them away, she turned to see a reporter beside her, camera still pointed at the squad car.

Oh for God's sake.

She felt her jaw drop as she realized: Leonard was the suspect in the newspaper photo that Rip had shown them on the Waverider. Or at least, he would be now. Her mind raced. The image of Leonard being pushed into the car was just how she remembered the photo. Had it always been him? The question of time travel sent her head spinning as she was pushed into the squad car herself, toppling into Leonard from the force of it.

The door slammed shut, muffling the chaos of the world outside.

And creating a whole new sort of chaos inside.

"Fancy meeting you here," Leonard said.

You don't know the half of it.

With her chin lodged in his shoulder, her mouth practically kissing his leather jacket, she thought he had no right to sound so amused. She peered up at him from under her lashes, throwing him her best daggered glare. He caught it with an easy smile.

But nothing about this was easy, no, not with him half pinned underneath her, trapped between her body and the door. With his hands cuffed behind his back, there was nothing he could do to get out of the position – and if he minded, she couldn't tell. He turned his head just enough to bring his face an inch from her own.

She knew she could move, she knew she could pull herself away from him. Her body was strong enough. But she'd lost all control of it, and there was simply no hope of getting it back. She prickled at the feeling of his thigh against hers, her chest pressed up against his arm.

It's impossible, she thought. Impossible that he was here, so close to her, so alive and breathing and – oh, how could she possibly breathe? Only the sight of his dark hair reminded her that she was in the wrong decade, with the wrong man.

But that dark hair – was it wrong? – that dark hair brought out the blue in his eyes so forcefully, she was struck again by them as he stared down at her in that way that made her want to scream and shout and kill and kiss him.

She tilted her chin up until her mouth was free.

It was lucky that her hands were cuffed behind her back, because her fingers itched to touch him. They were begging to run up his arm, across his back, down the slope of his jaw… And if she did that, it would be over, all over, and no going back.

He was staring at her lips again, she realized suddenly, his face falling closer and closer to hers. He'd lost that infuriating smile, but the soft thoughtfulness he wore now was somehow even worse. It reminded her of long hours spent hiding behind a deck of cards, of freezing to death next to the one person who made her feel most alive, of lying awake remembering me and you…

And it sent a shockwave through her system, warning bells firing in her mind.

"This is all your fault," she snapped, breaking the spell.

Really, she knew it wasn't – she knew it was her fault for letting him get her so distracted that they ended up in this situation in the first place. But at the very least, it was all his fault that she was feeling this way, all his fault for dangling what she'd dreamed of for the last three months in front of her, when she knew she couldn't have it.

His head snapped up, and he leaned back, narrowing his eyes. "I fail to see how –"

"– said I've got it!" A man's yelling voice, distant but carrying, interrupted him. Leonard started, whipping his head around to the window. Free from his attention at last, Sara came to her senses and pulled away – far, far away, as far as she could get in the tiny space. It wasn't nearly far enough to forget how badly she wanted to be close to him.

"No!" The sharp jab of the syllable pierced through the car, and the voice sounded nearer now. "No," the man repeated, louder. He had to be moving toward them.

"Tell Roberts he can kiss my ass!" Well. Whoever he was, he was pissed. Maybe even as much as Sara.

She turned her attention back to Leonard, only to find a completely unfamiliar expression on his face. Was it…panic? He was craning his neck, urgently shifting for a better view out the window. His eyebrows were raised, comically high compared to the deep set of his mouth, which was creeping downward in a frown. It was the kind of expression she'd expect on someone caught with their hand in a cookie jar…

"Yeah," the man called. "Yeah, I get it!" Sara tilted herself forward and back, trying to see around Leonard. If only he'd move his big head, she thought, gladly letting her annoyance take over her more dangerous emotions.

"Oh trust me, this'll be the last time I stick my neck out for him!"

Finally, Sara saw a man push through the crowd, striding purposefully to the car as he called over his shoulder. It was a police officer, she realized. He was moving so quickly she only had a moment to take in his thick mustache and frown before he ripped open the back door.

"What did I say about you and handcuffs?"

Sara's eyes darted back and forth between Leonard and the officer, a smile fighting its way onto her face. She couldn't help it; she'd never seen Leonard like this. It was almost as if he were…ashamed.

Of course, it was only a moment before he recovered, slipping easily into his normal sardonic mask.

"Something about staying out of them?" Leonard quipped, peering up at the officer as the man glared down at him. Despite Leonard's best effort, she could still hear the hint of apprehension in his voice.

The officer huffed, brow furrowing. He had a friendly face, even with the scowl he was giving Leonard. Based on the laugh lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, she'd guess he was around 50, though his hair and mustache were dark brown without a hint of gray.

Suddenly, it hit her how much he resembled a character from the TV show Friends: Richard, one of Monica's boyfriends. Sara and Laurel had always loved Friends – it was one of their favorite shows growing up, one of the few things that had connected them even when they were fighting (which was constantly). It made Sara's heart constrict to remember what a crush Laurel had once had on the affable older man. And it endeared his police officer doppelganger to her immediately.

"Real funny," Richard (as Sara now thought of him) said. "There I was," he sighed, "thinking that maybe, just maybe, you were getting your act together. Then guess whose name came over my scanner?"

Leonard actually winced a little at that, until he covered it with a forced laugh. "It's all a misunderstanding," he said, tone light and appeasing. "I'm completely innocent!"

Richard raised his eyebrows in a way that said I'm not buying it. "Completely innocent, huh?" he asked. "Then explain why I have intel that you and your 'partner' have been casing that bank for three weeks."

Sara watched Leonard gulp, his eyebrows quirking in surprise. "Well," he hedged, "completely might be a strong word –"

Richard growled in frustration, effectively cutting Leonard off. "Miranda rights!" He pointed a stern finger at Leonard. Then he pulled away, slamming the door behind him in exasperation.

Sara was a little surprised when he then got into the driver's seat and settled himself behind the wheel. He turned on the ignition and flipped the lights on, muttering under his breath as he merged into traffic.

Well, at least he was a faster driver than Ray.

Very interesting, Sara thought, studying Richard in the rearview mirror. From the sound of it, he was disappointed in Leonard…from the sound of it, he actually cared about Leonard. That put him on a short list of people throughout Leonard's life, as far as she knew, a short list she was on, too. And it made her feel inexplicably fond of him.

"You know," Richard jumped into his lecture again, as if he'd never paused. "I thought the next favor I'd be calling at Goldberg and Partners would be to get you a job." He shook his head. "You'd have to get a degree eventually, but they were willing to sponsor you if you worked hard and paid your dues!"

Sara could practically feel Leonard rolling his eyes at that. She glanced over to see she was right, annoyance written all over his face, as if they'd had this conversation a dozen times and Leonard knew there was just no reasoning with him.

Richard sighed again. "Goldberg owed me a hundred favors and I called in every last one of them on you!" He frowned back at Leonard in the mirror. "Now instead of getting you placed, I'm going to have to get you represented." He grunted, shaking his head. "I just can't believe it. I thought you were too smart to get caught up with a bunch of lowlifes like that crew."

Leonard's annoyance flashed to anger in a hot second. "I am," he spat. "I told you, I'm innocent. I had nothing to do with those scum."

Richard glanced back in the rearview mirror, his furrowed brow revealing his confliction. Sara could see it in his eyes – he wanted to believe Leonard. After a moment he looked away, and then back, his face relaxing. Maybe he decided he did.

The car was quiet for a minute, and Sara wondered why Leonard didn't just tell Richard the whole story. She'd thought he'd be bragging about it – Yeah, I saved this one's stupid life, and thanks to me, the real robbers are in custody. When can you schedule my medal ceremony? But he didn't say a word about it. Instead, he just gazed thoughtfully at the back of Richard's head.

Finally, Leonard leaned forward, getting as close to the metal barrier that separated them as he could. "So…" he started, with the air of someone keen on changing the subject. "How's Maggie?"

Sara was baffled for a second, wondering who Maggie could be. Richard's wife, maybe? She wondered how Leonard knew such a personal detail about the officer.

Richard's demeanor changed instantly. "Good," he said, nodding his head and visibly brightening. "All she can talk about lately is soccer. Soccer, soccer, soccer. She wants to be just like Mia Hamm – whoever that is!"

Leonard chuckled. "Yes, Lisa too," he agreed. "She's so excited for the Olympics. Every time she makes me play with her it's, 'we're going for gold! We're going for gold!'"

Richard laughed. "Oh yeah. I've heard that!" He shook his head, but a smile still lingered on his face. "Say, is Lisa playing soccer down at the rec league, too?"

Leonard nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile of his own. "She was so upset when she and Maggie were put on different teams."

Ah, so Maggie was Richard's daughter, and by the sound of it, she and Lisa were friends. Was that how he knew Leonard so well?

Richard chuckled. "Yeah, those two are peas in a pod." Then he paused, tilting his head. "You know, I was just at the rec center for Maggie's practice, but I don't remember seeing Lisa. Don't tell me I'm getting so old I missed her?"

Sara was surprised to see Leonard's expression suddenly darken. His eyes drifted down and away, and she found herself wishing she could touch him, wishing she could bring him back from whatever hole his thoughts had just plunged him into.

"She misses sometimes," Leonard explained, slowly, carefully. "You know, family conflicts. Things get…busy…no one can drive her. Of course, she never calls me until it's too late for me to get her there."

If she hadn't known Leonard so well, she might have missed the subtext. But she did – she knew him, and she understood that when he said "family conflicts" and "busy" what he really meant was that his parents were fighting or too drunk to drive.

The true meaning of his words wasn't lost on Richard either. She watched his eyebrows raise and then furrow in the rearview mirror, and didn't miss the angry twist to his mouth before he coughed awkwardly.

"Well," Richard cleared his throat again. "Your folks' place is on our way to the rec center. We could always carpool and pick Lisa up." He glanced back again, gauging Leonard's reaction. Leonard's head was still hanging, but his eyebrows perked up at the offer. "It'll be my wife driving tomorrow," Richard continued, taking Leonard's silence as permission to go on. "I'm sure she'd be happy to swing by and grab Lisa. And Maggie would love it," he added.

Leonard shrugged, as if he didn't care either way. But when he finally met Richard's eyes in the mirror, it wasn't with indifference, it was with…gratitude.

He nodded, slowly. "Lisa won't be home tomorrow," he said. "But next week…I'm sure she'd like that."

"Sounds good," Richard agreed, "I'll let the gang know."

Sara sat back in her seat, thinking. She remembered a time when she was a girl, and her father, an officer just like Richard, had been called to the same family home over and over again for domestic violence. She must've been, oh, twelve maybe? Thirteen? She remembered sneaking out of bed late, when he finally came home, and listening to the stories he'd tell her mom. She remembered how it broke his heart, how he spoke with tears in his eyes, so frustrated that there was nothing he could do to help the woman and her children if she wouldn't press charges, if she wouldn't leave.

Her father had cared for that family, she remembered that very clearly. He'd wanted so much to do anything for them, even though they were basically strangers. She remembered once, after he'd picked her and Laurel up from school, he'd even stopped by their home just to check and see that everyone was alright.

She wondered if maybe Richard had been doing the same thing for the Snarts. Watching out for them. The way he so easily offered his help, the way he clearly cared so much…she had to wonder if he'd been involved in their lives more closely than just as the father of Lisa's friend.

Sara was jostled out of her musings as she felt the car come to a sudden stop. She looked out the window and realized with horror that they'd pulled right up to the Central County Law Enforcement Center. Richard turned off the engine.

Shit.

She'd been so distracted by the exchange between Leonard and Richard, she'd almost forgotten where they were headed. Jail. Right. Shit.

Another officer met them at the car, and Sara felt the dread pooling in the pit of her stomach as the door opened. Cuffed as they were, they had to be practically pulled from the back seat, Richard helping Leonard and the newcomer roughly yanking her forward.

Her legs had fallen asleep on the ride, and she tripped on her way out of the car, careening into the concrete with no hands to break her fall. Her knees scraped the hard surface and she yelped in surprise, the officer catching her just before her face could hit the pavement, too.

"Hey!" She looked up in time to see Leonard glaring at the officer. "Watch it," he warned, pinning the man with a threatening stare.

Sara turned back to the officer, and had to admit he seemed sufficiently threatened. Funny that Leonard could have that effect, even in handcuffs. Funnier how pleased she felt that he'd done it for her.

Richard rolled his eyes and tugged at Leonard's arm. "She's fine," he said, sounding bored. If he knew Leonard at all, then she supposed he had to be used to this kind of behavior. But Leonard refused to move until she was standing again, glowering at the officer as she found her way to her shaky feet.

They were escorted side-by-side down a path hidden from the street. Sara could see it was leading to a door tucked away from the main building, labeled by a sign that ominously read, "JAIL."

Leonard turned to her, leaning closer so he could speak quietly in her ear. "You okay?" he asked. She felt his gaze on her with a pang, and suddenly she wished he'd look away.

But she couldn't resist turning her head toward him, no, she couldn't resist meeting his eyes. The sight of them left her feeling like she'd caught on fire. Because no one else had ever made her feel so nervous, so completely out of her skin, and so calm, so centered, at the same time. The fire spread to her chest, to her gut, and she decided to let it burn.

"I'm not a damsel," she answered, finally, growling through clenched teeth.

"And I'm no knight in shining armor," he agreed.

They took a few more steps, the door looming ever nearer. Leonard glanced at it for a moment, and then his eyes were back on her. She swallowed.

Snap out of it, Lance.

"Could've fooled me." She barely choked out the words.

Then they were going through the door, and there was no turning back now.

Inside, the ceilings were low and the lighting was dim, with no windows and only overhead fluorescent lights to cast a sick glow on the proceedings. They were ushered through a small foyer and a double set of doors, which opened before them with a groaning buzz.

On the other side they were met with a metal detector, a short hallway beyond it. To their left was a small open space, with vending machines and a table with chairs, three police officers arranged around it. Interesting break area, she thought, just as the officers looked up at them.

And then they erupted in a fit of boisterous shouts.

All three of them were on their feet in an instant, hooting and hollering and patting each other on the back. One was even clapping, nodding his head with a huge grin on his face.

"Hey, Snart!"

"Snart-y! Ah, welcome home!"

"Jordan, quick – get the book!"

The tallest one reached up to the top of a vending machine, pulling down a leather-bound ledger.

"Alright, alright, what's today?" They set the book on the table, opening it and fighting over each other to get the best look.

They're like little monkeys, she thought, watching with some amusement as they flipped through the pages.

"April 24, April 24, where are you…"

They stopped, suddenly, one with his finger hovering over the center of the page. Collectively, they looked up at Leonard, then back down to the book.

"Holy fucking shit," one cried, slapping the page in disgust. "Garcia has 10-1 on this fucking day – you have got to be shitting me."

"I was off by a week," another lamented, putting his head in his hands. "Snart! You couldn't have waited one week?" He rubbed a hand through his short cropped hair, sighing. "Come on, man, it's been six months! I was so close…"

Six months? She turned back to Leonard, eyeing him curiously. He seemed smug as ever, maybe even a little proud at the scene. But six months since what…his last arrest?

"I've been out since week one," the third officer shrugged, patting his friend on the back.

"You never did have any faith in me, Nelson," Leonard said, his smug demeanor fading fast.

"Oh I have plenty of faith in you," Nelson mocked, taking a few steps toward them and crossing his arms. "Plenty of faith you'll never change."

Leonard puffed out his chest and took a step toward him, too. For a second it seemed like he was going to try to fight him – cuffs and all.

"Alright, that's enough," Richard stepped in, dragging Leonard back over to the metal detector.

"Hey, Tom Selleck, didn't see you there!" Nelson teased. "Shouldn't you be out on a date with Monica?"

Sara had to smile at that – at least she wasn't the only one who'd noticed the resemblance.

"Yeah, I'd much rather be out with Courteney Cox than here dealing with you lot," Richard sighed, rolling his eyes. Apparently he'd heard that joke too many times.

"Oh, but what would your wife say?" The tall one, Jordan, snickered.

"She'd say that sometimes she'd rather go out with Matthew Perry than me, too," Richard retorted.

Sara was distracted from the scene by the sound of a handheld metal detector beeping angrily near her ankle. She started – she hadn't even realized she was being scanned.

"What's this?" The officer who'd brought her in knelt down, feeling at her boot. Briefly, she was horrified that they'd found her comm – how could she explain it? – until he pulled out her last, hidden throwing knife.

She relaxed, shrugging at Richard's bemused expression (had he missed the memo? She was the one with the knives), the officer's annoyance, and Leonard, who was eyeing her with that satisfying air of surprise.

"Good catch," she said, flashing the officer a smile.

They were shuffled down the hall and into a large office, where they were greeted by a petite officer with dark shining hair tied back in a low bun.

"Hello, Mr. Snart," she purred, batting her big brown eyes at him.

"Officer Garcia," Leonard answered, looking her up and down. "You're looking lovely as ever," he added.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she cooed. "I think you've just made me a very rich woman, though."

"You know I hate to disappoint," he said. "But we'll be out of here in a minute. Maybe I can make it up to you later – when do you get off?"

"We'll see." She nodded to Richard. "I've got him. You can process his little friend here." Sara bristled at the dismissal, biting down on her jealousy. She knew Leonard would charm anyone to get what he wanted, and it probably didn't mean a thing.

Still, turnabout was fair play. She shifted her stance, letting her hip brush against the woman.

"Come find me when you're bored of him," she said with a wink, stifling laughter at the glare she received in return.

Then Richard pulled her off to the side, the officer who'd help bring her in disappearing back out into the hall as Leonard was led to the opposite end of the room by Garcia.

"Name," Richard asked, reaching for a pen and form booklet. Sara lied, of course. And she lied, and lied some more as Richard shuffled her through processing. He kept her at a bored distance, going through the motions without ever once asking what had really happened at the bank. Leonard and Garcia were having much more fun, from what she could see of them. It only added to her mounting frustration.

"Listen," she said finally, jerking her hand to get his attention. Richard paused in the process of taking her fingerprints, barely lifting an eyebrow at her before he resumed.

"Don't tell me anything," he countered. "If you do, I'll have to testify."

She groaned. "No," she said. "It's not like that, I just –"

He started humming, loudly (was that the Friends theme song?), covering the quiet sound of her voice.

"Shh," she insisted. "Stop." He didn't. She huffed, digging her fingers into the ink and refusing to move her hand until he finally acknowledged her.

"I can tell you care about him," she said, keeping her voice low so that Leonard couldn't hear. "And I just wanted to tell you that you're right." She met his eyes, praying he'd believe her. "You're right about him," she repeated. Richard tilted his head, studying her with something close to awe. Probably no one had ever told him that.

"He saved my life today," she continued. "And he stopped those robbers. If it hadn't been for him, they would've gotten away." He nodded, finally, and she sighed.

"He's a hero," she finished. It was true in more ways than she could possibly tell him, but it was the best she could do. Someone who cared about him that much…deserved to know. He deserved to know that no matter what else Leonard might do in his life, that's who he really was.

By the time Richard escorted Leonard and Sara to the holding cell, she was almost relieved. Almost, until she caught sight of the iron bars and the reality of it hit her once again.

"You know we're innocent," she said, turning desperately to Richard. "Just ask the others at the bank – there was a woman with a little girl, they'll tell you."

"They'll take the witness statements into consideration," Richard agreed. "But it may not be enough to get you released right away."

"Well, check the security footage, you'll see everything!" she insisted, cringing as Richard slid the door open.

"Our agents have to receive special permission from the bank to review the footage, and they will," he assured her, guiding her gently inside. Leonard went willingly, and the door clanged shut again behind him.

Richard removed their handcuffs through the bars, eyeing her with sympathy.

"Get comfortable," he suggested. "You could be here all day. Or longer, with all the red tape we'll have to go through to get that footage," he added.

Sara leaned against the bars, stomach dropping as she watched Richard disappear from view. How did this happen? She pressed her forehead into the metal, trying and failing spectacularly to ignore the sense of Leonard still standing right beside her.

She turned, unsurprised to find him shamelessly staring at her. Why does he have to do that?

He took a half step closer, and she cursed her racing heart. I am stronger than this, she thought, and instantly knew it was a lie. How was she going to survive this?

She side-stepped him without a word, forcing herself to breathe and taking in their cell. The walls were dank and dirty, graffiti littered over every rough edge. There was a narrow window at the top of the far wall, too high to reach, the only source of light besides a dim fluorescent overhead. A single bench lined the back wall, and Leonard brushed by her to take up the right corner of it, leaning against the wall and making himself look quite at home. The space was much longer than it was wide, and as she finished her sweep of it she noticed a large, brown lump against the right wall that she supposed had to be a person.

She ignored it, crossing the cell to sit on the left corner of the bench, pushing herself as far away from Leonard as possible. She propped her left leg up and looked pointedly away, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

And now we wait.

Despite the chill of the day outside, inside the cell was oppressively hot, seeming only to grow hotter the longer they sat in the heavy silence. For a moment she was glad she was sleeveless, until she remembered the exposed skin at her shoulders and waist. The gap at her stomach had felt small a few hours ago, but it was suddenly seeming like far, far too much. She crossed her arms over it, trying to cover herself.

And to think, she could've worn overalls.

Finally, she chanced a glance in Leonard's direction. He hadn't moved a muscle, still lounging against the wall, one leg folded up on the bench and an arm propped on his knee. He looked entirely too comfortable for someone in a jail cell, especially in that leather jacket. Did he ever get hot? She'd never seen him in anything but long sleeves. Then she realized his eyes were still trained on her, and she forced herself to look away again.

The Leonard she'd known had always been cocky, had always had swagger, sure. He'd always been confident – and though she'd never have admitted it to him, that confidence was something she'd found attractive. But this. There was something so brazen about this Leonard that she didn't remember. And it didn't sit well with her. Maybe it was the way he just wouldn't stop openly staring at her, gaze so intense it was making her feel, well, naked.

In the end, she broke the silence.

"Stop that."

A small smile began forming around his mouth, and she could tell he was fighting to keep it away.

"What," he replied. It wasn't even a question. It was a challenge.

She rolled her eyes. "Looking at me like you're undressing me."

"Well," he considered her. "You're looking at me like you're about to eat me." Judging by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, he found the thought delightful.

He was already under her skin and he knew it.

Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the whole goddamned day, but Sara had hit a wall. A wave of sudden fury washed over her, and she snapped.

"Fine, I'll bite." She glared at him. "What the hell was that?"

He tilted his head. "You mean you almost getting yourself killed trying to play 'hero'?" He shrugged. "Think you're going to have to do the explaining for that."

Oh, he had some nerve. "Where did you even come from?" she asked, heat rising to her face. "You and your buddy walked out the back door – that doesn't even open from the outside!"

"It doesn't open for most people. I'm not most people."

She wished she had something to throw at him. She took a deep breath, winding her temper, grasping at straws.

"You brought a gun to a bank," she said slowly. "And you knew the layout of the vaults." She was sure probing about his true intentions at the bank would throw him as off-balance as he had her.

She was wrong.

He leaned his head back against the wall, grinning. "Yeah, it's exactly what you're thinking."

Seriously? "You and one other guy were going to rob Central City's largest bank? Alone?"

He lifted his palms up, shrugging as if it were no big deal. "We had a well-placed associate on the inside."

He was too calm. Too cool. It was maddening, and she reached for her last conversational advantage: "So why didn't you go through with it?"

That had to knock him down a peg, right?

But it didn't. "Plan wasn't as air-tight as I wanted," he explained. "I decided to wait and regroup."

That simple, hm? Well, she could think of one thing that wasn't.

"So why did you help me stop that gang?"

He did pause at that, and for a second she thought she'd stumped him. "Well," he started, "when you rob a bank, it's best if the money is still there."

She wanted to strangle him.

"How did you know which vault they would target?" she demanded.

"Same one we were going for. Easiest to get to with the biggest payout." He glanced away finally, thinking. "Glad to know just how long it takes law enforcement to reach it." Then his eyes snapped back to her.

Great. Her mission had given him the chance to do reconnaissance. She huffed, reassessing, re-strategizing. She could crack him. She knew she could – how many hundreds of times had she done it before?

Finally, she spoke again. "So would this have been your first big heist or is this a thing for you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, my record shows mostly petty theft so far…" His voice changed from light to suggestive. "But I'm moving up in the world."

"Oh, I can see that," she said, sarcastically sweet. How could someone be so smug about a crime they hadn't committed?

But suddenly her anger shifted to worry as she started contemplating the kinds of things he could be getting himself into. She wasn't as concerned about what he and Mick did, but what if this young Leonard was involved with some kind of...criminal mentor? Mob-boss type? She felt a surge of protectiveness.

"So what kind of...endeavors...are you working on, Mr. Moving Up?"

He smirked. "This isn't the best place to discuss."

Infuriating. She comforted herself that he'd turned out fine, anyway (although "fine" was a relative term). She fell quiet, contemplating his life path from here – petty thief – to the supervillain she'd met on the Waverider.

"How about you?" he asked, drawing her back from her wonderings. "Are you some kind of daytime vigilante? Do you just hang around banks all day waiting to stop crimes?"

Finally, it was her turn to smirk. "Well," she drawled, "this isn't the best place to discuss." Two could play at that game.

"Aha." He appraised her, and she couldn't help but wonder if she was turning out to be more or less interesting than he'd thought when they first saw each other.

For a while, they just stared at each other, neither willing to back down. But eventually, he relented.

"I'm Len," he offered. Len.

She blinked, fighting back a visceral reaction to the word. It was as if he'd reached in and grabbed her stomach right out of her core. And she wondered, after everything she'd been through, how could one measly syllable threaten to destroy her?

She was still staring blankly at him when he prompted her. "And you are...?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her before she could get to it. "And don't bother using the fake you gave our officer friend."

So "Kendra Saunders" was out. She wracked her brain, determined not to give him her real name, but the only one she could think of other than her own was "Laurel." She could tell he'd see through anything else. But she could be Laurel – she'd been Laurel dozens of times, it was her go-to code name. That would work.

It was on the tip of her tongue when she realized that it could work, but using that name would likely undo her faster than even this conversation. So she swallowed it. Rolled her eyes. And sighed.

Finally, "Sara."

Somehow it felt like an admission, or maybe a plea. It seemed dangerous, like handing him yet another weapon to use against her, and she felt that, oh she felt it when he echoed her name back to her.

"Sara."

Maybe it was way he said it, just the same way he always had, drawing out the "air" in the middle so reverently, like a last rite, like a prayer, and amen. She braced a hand on the bench against the sway of shivers it sent running up and down her spine. And she realized she wouldn't mind if it was the last thing she ever heard.

If they didn't get out of this cell soon, she thought that could be arranged.