Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone still reading this story and on this journey with me. If you are, I would love to hear from you! I always appreciate your comments - they keep me motivated and pushing to the finish line. Things are about to get a little crazy in this chapter... I hope you continue to enjoy this!

Leonard sank easily into the darkness. He felt so heavy, but the dark was heavier still, and he went willingly as it dragged him down below.

Eventually, he surfaced. He found himself stalking down the unlit hallway of an old safe house, loose floorboards whining beneath his feet. He was agitated, his heart thudding painfully, but he couldn't quite remember why.

It can't be true, he was thinking. It can't be.

His hands traced the walls, shakily guiding him through the shadows to his drafty room.

It can't be. It isn't.

The narrow space was empty except for a cot, and he couldn't even make it that far. He slid back against the wall, legs like lead dropping him to the cold floor. He felt like he was hiding. Like he was running from something. But the night was quiet, save for his own erratic breathing.

It wasn't her, said the voice in his head. Stop fooling yourself.

That's when it all came back. Her. Of course. And of course, it wasn't her.

But he had to be sure.

His shaking hands pulled out his wallet, numbly thumbing through it until he found what he was looking for: the old Polaroid picture from 1996.

You should be embarrassed you kept this, the voice said. Just a worthless memento that belonged to an even more worthless boy.

Still, Leonard ran his thumb over the creases of it. He'd folded it so many times over the years, shoved it in books and boxes and for some reason, yesterday, this wallet. He still couldn't say why. He hadn't carried it on him for what, a decade? – he'd long believed the woman in the photo was dead, not so much a memory as a ghost.

Until tonight, when he saw her on that rooftop. Surrounded by strangers, he'd been drawn to her familiar face.

It's you.

She'd only met his eyes for a moment, turned away without recognizing him. But he knew, in an instant, he knew.

I found you.

Leonard reached in his pocket for a matchbox, then cursed as his trembling hands wasted three matches before he finally had light.

There was a strange swelling in his stomach as he stared at the photo.

It can't be. It's insane.

But the evidence was unmistakably before him.

Sara.

There she was, hands cuffed behind her back, staring up at him like he was something worth looking at, leaning against his chest like she couldn't get close enough. Just how he remembered. And without a doubt, the same woman he'd seen tonight.

After all these years, as if not a day had passed for her.

Shit – that bumbling, British buffoon had been telling the truth. Time travel was real. He was holding the proof.

So what? His better judgement spoke up. It didn't matter that he'd finally solved the mystery of where – or rather, when – Sara had gone.

She's nothing to you now.

So why did her voice still whisper in his mind?

I believe anyone can change their fate. I have to believe it.

No. He hadn't thought about her in years. And she hadn't spared him a second glance tonight.

It's over.

He held the match to the photo, ready to burn it. To release it. Finally.

And yet...

Anyone. Even me?

For a moment, he was there with her in that jail cell again, her blue eyes watching him. Knowing him. She was in his arms again, his hands tangled in her hair, her lips on his neck as she tugged him closer. Wanting him.

Especially you.

Destiny. Fate. He'd believed in it all with her. She'd made him believe.

A loose branch rattled the window, breaking him out of his trance.

Fate? He scoffed. More like bullshit. It'd been a long time since Leonard killed the boy he'd been that day. Now, it was time to bury him.

He let the flame touch the corner of the photo. Its light pooled over the details, casting the memory in harsh relief. Leonard's eyes drank it in one last time, remembering despite himself. Smoke rose as the film began to burn.

That's when Leonard noticed –

The ring.

Sara had been wearing a ring that day. One that looked remarkably like his. Identical to it, actually.

If time travel was real…

What if the ring was his?

It hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing his breath away. The woman he'd met tonight hadn't recognized him. Hadn't been wearing a ring like his.

He shook the match out, stunned, staring at the photo in the dark as smoke whisped before him, then vanished into the night.

Especially you...

But the Sara he met in 1996… She knew him. Instantly. Unlike almost anyone in his life ever had.

How?

If it was his ring, she'd been wearing it like a wedding band. He couldn't get the image of it out of his mind.

In the future – in his own future – what were they to each other?

Suddenly, he had to know. He had to know what made her look at him like he was everything, why she'd kissed him like it was the last thing she'd ever do.

You're a fool, he told himself. She doesn't care about you. You're nothing to her.

But maybe he would be.

And Leonard knew he would get on that time machine to find out.

He had to.

The darkness shifted, then. Walls disappeared around him, and the photo faded from his hand. A hole opened in the emptiness before him, replacing darkness with glaring blue light.

And the light was alive, he realized. It reached out to him with arms like lightning, swatting and stretching into the space around him. It buzzed and crackled as it moved, almost like it was speaking. Calling to him.

Leonard remembered it. He remembered its warmth. He could feel it radiating in front of him, as the light grew and grew, surrounding everything. It made him as uneasy as he was comforted. It drew him in, closer, until he could see himself reflected in its surface. Behind him, the light stretched on forever.

But another voice called to him, too.

Stay with me. Stay.

Sara…

He shuddered, jerking away, only for waiting tendrils to tease the back of his neck.

You can't leave me again.

He struggled to answer her, but he couldn't reach her, couldn't speak, couldn't move. The light was blinding, it was everything, and he was nowhere, nothing. Suddenly, he couldn't even breathe.

I would do anything to get you back.

Leonard summoned every fiber of his being to push away, even as he was pulled in deeper.

Stay.

Sara's voice echoed around him. He clung to it, using it as his anchor.

I believe anyone can change their fate. I have to believe it.

He focused only on her voice, blocking out the light, its buzz, its crackle and warmth. He was not part of it. It wouldn't take him like this.

Especially you…

All at once, he was released. Darkness returned, devouring the light like it had never been.

Awareness slipped back like a wave upon sand. There, then not, and there again.

"Boss, he's gone! He's gone!"

"That bastard died on us?"

"Not dead. Gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

Voices floated in and out of Leonard's head. He groaned as pain came in and out, too.

"I mean, one second he was there, and the next he was gone. Disappeared!"

"If you let him escape, I'll kill you."

Leonard's eyes blinked open, breaking two bright slits into the darkness. Immediately he shut them, recoiling back from the throbbing it started in his head.

"No! I swear, I was watching him! There was a flash of light. Like lightning. And then…poof. He was just gone."

The voices grew louder. Closer. Leonard forced his eyes open again, squinting at the blurry shapes around him.

"You're a drunk. And a dead man."

A doorway materialized before him. Two figures entered through it, tilting in his vision until they snapped into focus.

"Or not," one said. "Scram, you idiot."

The other left. Leonard sucked in a shaky breath, watching as the first man came closer.

"Wake up, Johnny," he said.

"'M not…" Leonard slurred, cut off by a sharp slap to the face.

"Enough. You're a coward."

Leonard choked out a gasp and collapsed forward, only to realize he was seated in a chair, restrained with ropes around his chest and arms. He flexed his hands into fists where they hung behind his back, struggling to stay conscious.

"Better start talking while you still have a tongue."

Hot bile rose up Leonard's throat, but he pushed it back, focusing on his surroundings even as the world swayed around him.

There was a plain desk to his left. A workstation to his right. They were in a small room, maybe an office, but it lacked any windows. Just bare walls around them and stone floor beneath his feet. A naked bulb hung from the ceiling in front of his face, painting a ring of light around his chair. Leonard hung his head, cringing from the painful brightness.

"Look at me, scum."

The man grabbed the back of Leonard's collar, forcing his head up. Leonard studied him, watching as his face doubled and tripled, swimming in his vision before melting back to normal. He had an average face, blond scruff around his mouth his only distinguishing feature – except for the wild anger in his eyes.

Oh, Leonard realized. It was the gangster who'd confronted him in the speakeasy – the one who'd drugged Sara and kidnapped them both, all because he believed Leonard killed his father.

"Joey Falzone?" he guessed, two wires miraculously connecting in his brain.

"No," said a voice from the doorway.

The gangster released Leonard, stepping back suddenly. They both turned to look at the newcomer.

"I'm Joey Falzone," he said.

Leonard frowned, the pit dropping out of his stomach as he studied the man. Tall, lanky frame, leaning casually against the wall. Trim black suit. A fedora, covering his face. Until he looked up. Until he met Leonard's eyes.

"You know me by a different name, of course." He pushed off the wall, taking slow, deliberate steps toward Leonard. His boyish features came into focus. Leonard knew them.

"You're dismissed," he added, shooing the gangster away with a lazy flick of his hand.

Then they were alone.

Something is very wrong.

Leonard realized he was shaking. Shaking at the sight of a man he knew, whose once warm, open face had turned hard and cold.

He placed his hands on the armrests of Leonard's chair, towering over him even as he leaned down.

"Barry Allen," he confirmed, voice barely a whisper. "I bet you thought you'd never see me again." His eyes gleamed with triumph, and hatred strong enough to make Leonard sick. "Well, here I am."

Sara's back screamed. Her legs and arms screamed too, in the moments she could feel them. Her jaw ached so badly her ears hurt. Somewhere behind it all, a mild buzzing muted the world around her. Despite all that, she couldn't rest. She wouldn't let herself.

"Stop moving," ordered a gruff male voice. Sara kept rocking back and forth just to defy it.

"I said, stop," he growled, grabbing her by her hair and holding her in place. She felt a surprised shriek rip from her throat, muffled around her gag, and cursed herself for showing pain.

"Let her go!"

A woman's voice pierced through Sara's haze.

"Let her go, Sam," the woman repeated. This time, the order was low and threatening.

Sara groaned in relief as she was released. If only her hands were free to rub her aching head.

"You can leave now. Ralph will watch her." Dully, Sara registered the anger in the woman's voice – and the authority.

"I don't think so," Sara's captor grunted. "I have my orders. I only leave at the boss's say so."

"My word is as good as his," she argued.

"Not quite."

Sara took a few labored breaths, trying to pry her eyes open. She could feel sweat dripping down her back. Her face was on fire, burning hotter with every movement. The world spun around her, faster and faster until she thought she would puke. She stopped it, grasping at the thread of one thought:

Leonard is in danger. I have to get free.

"Fine. Then Ralph will stay to make sure you keep your grubby paws off her," the woman said, her voice closer than before. "Now stand aside so I can speak to her."

The large presence at Sara's back vanished. The next thing she knew, gentle fingers were cupping her chin, moving her gag out of her mouth. Sara swallowed mercifully, then winced at her sore throat.

"Did you have to drug her?" the woman asked, more of that hot anger coloring her voice.

"Collateral damage. She'll be fine."

"Did you have to gag her?" the woman insisted.

"She wouldn't stop screaming for her boyfriend."

Cool hands cupped Sara's cheeks, and her eyes finally fluttered open. The woman's concerned face danced before her, and Sara sucked in a breath at the familiar sight. I must be dreaming.

"Iris?" she asked, voice a groggy croak.

"Yes," the woman sighed, mouth curving up into a sad smile. "It's me, Sara. I'm here."

"Her name's Amelia," said the goon.

"Not to me," Iris murmured, so only Sara could hear. "Mind your own damn business and get back," she called sharply to the others.

Sara's mind reeled, trying to understand, to remember the night's events, but her memories were all jumbled. There'd been a crash. Leonard. Dancing. A kiss. It was all a blur. Leonard. She remembered that much. Leonard is in danger. I have to get free.

But Iris's face was warm and familiar and real as she kneeled before her.

"I'm so sorry," she said, rubbing tears Sara hadn't even felt from her eyes. "I wish you hadn't come here." Her voice turned pleading, sorrowful, and her face crumpled. "Why'd you have to come here?"

"We didn't," Sara mumbled. "We…" she drifted off, a wave of nausea and confusion slowing her thoughts.

"I don't blame you, you know," Iris said, tucking loose hairs behind Sara's ears. "I know you can't help who you love, or who your father is." She looked up at Sara, her brown eyes wide and imploring. "Just like I can't help who my father is. Or who I love."

"Of course," Sara slurred, the words rough on her dry tongue.

Iris nodded, her crinkled forehead smoothing. "Remember when we were in boarding school?" she asked suddenly. "When we dreamed about taking over for our fathers? We said we'd show all those men who thought we were weak. We'd show them all."

None of it made sense. Images flashed before Sara's eyes – an alley. A dress. The speakeasy – they were in the past. What was Iris doing in the past?

Her eyes drifted down, distantly. "But they're still in charge, Sara." A tear ran across her cheek, leaving behind a dark stain. "I hope you can forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Sara echoed. Something about the words snapped at Sara, jolting her thoughts. Leonard. Leonard is in danger.

"They won't hurt you," Iris said, ignoring the question. She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes. "They'll ransom you to your father. You're more valuable that way."

I have to get free.

Sara fidgeted in her bindings. Her heart sank as she watched Iris fiddle with the handkerchief, frowning at the floor.

"What about Leonard?" Sara asked. "Where is he?"

Another tear slipped down Iris's cheek, and she ducked her head, avoiding Sara's gaze. "Why did you have to come here?" she whispered, clutching at Sara's bound hand. "I told you to stay far away."

Leonard is in danger.

"What will happen to him?" Sara insisted. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to ask the next question, even though she didn't know where it came from, and even though she dreaded the answer.

"Will they kill him?"

Iris finally met her eyes, licking a fresh tear from her lip.

"I think so."

Silence rang in Leonard's ears.

"Barry," he breathed, stunned.

"Why'd you come here, Len?" Barry asked. For a moment, there was something like sadness in his voice. Regret, even. For a moment, Leonard could see the Barry Allen he remembered.

Then he was gone.

"I didn't –"

Barry cut him off with a glare. "Were you taunting me?" he seethed, his face suddenly red. "Did you think you could laugh in my face and get away with it?"

Leonard's mind went blank, refusing to process what his eyes were seeing. He was imagining this. He had to be. It couldn't be –

Then Barry smacked him, a backhand to his jaw, leaving Leonard blinking back stars and swallowing pain that was all too real.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Barry demanded, circling Leonard's chair. "After everything you did?"

"Barry, I –"

"What?" Barry scoffed, grabbing Leonard by the chin. "Are you sorry?" he spat, narrowing his eyes, not waiting for an answer. "I'm sure you are. I'm sure you're sorry you got caught." He paused, studying Leonard. "Johnny Cold," he muttered, his mouth twisting in disgust as he released him. "I can't believe I used to wish I could be just like you."

Leonard took a deep breath, trying to understand. Was something wrong with the timeline? Or had he just taken too many blows to the head?

Barry turned away, shaking his head in disappointment. "I should've known better. You've never cared about anyone but yourself."

"No," Leonard protested. Maybe that had been true, once, but not anymore. Why wouldn't Barry listen?

"No?" Barry mocked. Then he slipped back into rage. "You betrayed me!" he yelled, punching Leonard in the stomach. Leonard coughed, all the breath sucked out of him.

It took visible effort for Barry to calm himself. He straightened his coat, still breathing hard. "I trusted you," he hissed. "I would have died for you." He stared down at Leonard, nostrils flaring, his eyes hard and unforgiving. "You used me."

Leonard recoiled at the hurt in Barry's voice. Behind all that anger, he was just a boy whose hero had failed him. Leonard had failed him.

"Let me make it right," Leonard said, surprised to hear himself begging, surprised at how much he meant it. Barry Allen had always believed in him. He would've given Leonard a thousand chances, because he'd always seen the man Leonard could be. The man I am, he thought, defiantly.

"It's too late for that," Barry said, simply. For a moment, he held Leonard's gaze, and Leonard willed him to see the truth. You were always right about me. Believe that.

Barry's hands unclenched. He nodded, relaxing, coming to some unspoken decision, and Leonard's chest swelled with hope. Believe in me again.

Then Barry turned away.

"Julian," he called. "It's your turn."

The gangster from the speakeasy returned instantly, as if he'd been waiting just outside.

"You're finished with him?" Julian asked. The psychopath was excited, Leonard realized, pushing back nausea at the thought.

Barry's expression was blank as he replied.

"Yes."

Leonard's heart froze. "Barry," he said, shocked at his indifference. But it was like he'd never spoken.

Julian's mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "What about Amelia?"

Barry let out a surprised chuckled at that. "Amelia," he muttered. "We all wear our masks, don't we?" he asked, reflectively, more to himself than either of them. He took a breath, thinking. Then, "Unfortunately, we can't return her to her father," he said, still ignoring Leonard. "She'd only convince him to start a war over him. Worthless as he is." Barry's eyes narrowed. "Better that Quentin believes they ran away together. He'll never know, if he never sees them again."

Leonard sucked in a sharp breath, his stomach churning. He can't mean –

"Just make it quick," Barry added, his voice flat. "For Iris's sake."

Julian smirked, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "And Cold?"

"I'll leave that up to you," Barry said. "He's already dead to me."

"Barry," Leonard called, frantically, as the man made to leave. "Do whatever you want to me, but please, don't kill Sara," he pleaded. "She's innocent. She had nothing to do with this."

Barry flinched, pausing, but didn't turn back. "Barry!" Leonard yelled, struggling at his restraints. "Barry! Don't do this!"

But he was already gone.

Julian laughed – a hollow, empty sound. "It's just us, now," he said, sauntering closer to Leonard. "Finally."

"Are you going to kill me or kiss me?" Leonard spat, relieved to hear he could still manage some bite in his tone, even as he trembled with fear. Sara, he thought, desperately. They're going to kill her. His mind raced. He had to get out of this, he had to get to her.

Julian sneered. "Considering I'm your judge and executioner, I'd think hard about your next words." God, his accent was more annoying than Rip's.

"What do you want me to say?" Leonard snapped. "You're just going to kill me anyway." He rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension in the ropes around his arms.

"True," Julian agreed. "But if you give me some information about your boss, I might be convinced to let you see your woman before I do."

"I don't know anything." Leonard tugged again at the ropes, wishing he did.

"I find that hard to believe," Julian said, "since you're married to his daughter."

Unbidden, an image of Sara floated into Leonard's mind.

You wanna dance, Leonard? she asked, her hand on her hip and a challenge in her eyes. That was the first moment since the rooftop that he'd known with certainty: she wasn't wearing his ring yet, but by the time she met him in 1996, she would be.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Leonard growled. "Leave her out of it."

Leonard's mind raced. He had to keep Julian talking. The sooner he become bored with this conversation, the sooner Leonard would be dead, and Sara –

"You know, it's too bad," Julian said, as if he could read Leonard's thoughts. "Amelia would've been worth more to us alive than dead."

"Then leave her alive," Leonard snarled. He kept his face carefully blank as his fingers traced the underside of the chair, searching until he found a screw.

"That's not an option." Julian paused, placing his free hand on the back of Leonard's chair, leaning in close as his gun toyed at Leonard's side. "But maybe I'll kill her first," he whispered. "Maybe I'll bring her here, so you can watch her die."

Leonard pawed frantically at the screw, willing it loose. His fingers stumbled, uselessly pushing at it, not budging it at all.

"I'll kill you," he said, falling back on false bravado.

"Oh?" Julian cooed. Then he smacked Leonard across the head with his gun.

Everything faded into dull pain. For a moment, Sara's face swam before him again.

She was sharpening her knives in the fabrication room.

Kissing me would probably end with more bloodshed than you're comfortable with.

She was teasing him with a smile.

I can tell by the way you're staring at my ass.

She was hiding behind a hand of cards.

Just so we're clear, this isn't me 'coming to you.'

She was telling him secrets in the night.

Turns out, I am still a killer.

He was comforting her.

You're a survivor. You did what you had to do to survive. To feel like you belong somewhere.

He was holding back from telling her, even when he knew: You belong with me.

Her sharp edges had always fit perfectly with his. Her darkness had always understood his, and her light, somehow, brought out his.

I've been thinking about what the future might hold…

A splash of water pulled Leonard out of the warm comfort of memories.

"Time's up, Johnny," Julian said, as Leonard sputtered. "I'm bored of this game. It's not nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be."

"I'll talk," Leonard gasped. His fingers found the screw in the chair again, and he turned at it frantically. "Tell me what you want to know, and I'll talk."

"Where's your hideout?" Julian demanded.

Leonard swallowed a sigh as he felt the screw finally come loose. Carefully, he eased it out, making sure not to put too much pressure on that side of the chair. Yet.

"Hodge at 22nd North," he threw out, thinking of an old warehouse he and Mick had used over the years.

Julian studied him, eyes narrowing. "Are you really that stupid?" He shoved the butt of his gun into Leonard's thigh. "That's our territory and you know it."

Leonard winced in pain, struggling to keep the chair from tipping before he was ready. "Maybe if you'd stop hitting me, I could think straight."

"We both know your hideout is behind the Ritz on Third," Julian said. "Cold bastard, won't even talk to see your girl." He grinned. Then he cocked his gun. "I won't give you the satisfaction. Isn't it worse to die knowing you'll never see her again? But don't worry," he added, leaning in to whisper. "She'll be joining you soon."

Julian pressed the barrel of his gun to Leonard's temple.

"What did you say to my father, before you shot him?" Julian asked. "I want to know. I want to hear the last thing he heard. Then I'm going to be the last thing you hear."

Leonard took a deep breath, clutching the screw in his fist. He would find out what the future held for him and Sara. This dumb goon wouldn't get in the way of that – nothing would.

"Go to hell."

He tipped the chair over, letting it topple down as one leg fell out and the other legs slid into Julian's, pushing him down. Leonard was ready when his body hit the hard cement floor, immediately kicking the seat of the chair down. He shimmied loose of his ropes, leaping to his feet and grabbing the chair, slamming it into Julian's head just as he sat up.

The door sprang open, and two more goons rushed in, drawn by the commotion. Leonard used the moment of surprise to his advantage, whacking one in the side of the head with the chair and grabbing the other's gun as he watched his partner fall. Leonard shot him in the foot and kicked him down, turning back to Julian in time to see him rising.

"You will never touch her," Leonard growled, catching Julian by the jaw and then punching him, smirking when Julian fell with a satisfying thump.

"See how he likes it," Leonard muttered, turning just in time to face three more gangsters who'd appeared in the doorway.

He shot one in the shoulder. He fell as Leonard turned his gun to Julian.

"Put down your weapons or I'll kill him," he warned. They hesitated a moment, looking around at the three unconscious men on the floor, before reluctantly sliding their weapons to Leonard.

"Thanks," Leonard drawled, shooting one in the thigh with his own gun.

"Where's the woman?" he demanded of the last man, training his gun on his chest.

"Just out this room, down the hall to the left, in the warehouse," the man stammered, hands up.

"If you're smart, you'll stay down," Leonard advised, before whacking the man across the back of his head with his gun.

"And do you think you're so smart?"

Leonard froze at the prick of cold steel at his throat. An arm wrapped around his chest, holding him in place as a knife cut into his jugular. Julian breathed heavily in his ear.

"That's the last mistake you'll ever make."

Sara stared at Iris, replaying her words in her mind until she couldn't breathe.

"No," she said, finally, but the word came out more like a moan. "No. Iris, you can't let them kill him."

"It's not up to me," Iris said, sadly. "I'm so sorry, Sara."

"Iris," Sara begged, but another voice said her name at the same time.

The women turned, both startled at the newcomer in the room. Sara did a double take, barely believing her eyes.

"Barry!" Sara gasped. A surge of hope filled her chest at the sight of him. But he refused to look at her.

"Let's go, Iris." he said. "Say goodbye."

Sara's stomach fell, not understanding. Barry always saved the day. Didn't he?

Iris turned back to Sara, eyebrows furrowed. "I hope you stay safe," she said, quickly. "If that means I never see you again, I'll be glad just to know you're okay."

Sara felt herself panicking. "Don't go," she insisted. "Help me. I can help you. We'll get out of this together."

"Come on," Barry insisted.

"You'll be okay," Iris whispered, standing. "You're stronger than this. You always have been." She hesitated, then leaned down to place a kiss on Sara's forehead. "I'll never forget you," she murmured, before turning away.

"Go on to the car," Barry instructed as Iris reached his side. "I need to have a few words with Sam."

Iris nodded, wiping at a tear as she glanced back at Sara one last time. Sara watched her leave, her chest tightening in disbelief.

"I gave Julian the order," Barry said, once Iris was gone. "We'll drop both of them in the river once this mess is cleaned up."

Sam grinned, cracking his neck. "Think he'll let me take pretty over here?"

Barry shrugged. "I'm sure he'll be in a generous spirit."

The other man, Ralph, Sara remembered, looked taken aback. "Iris said –"

"What Iris doesn't know won't hurt her," Barry cut him off. "If you're picking now to grow a conscience, then I suggest you leave."

"Iris told me to stay and make sure no harm came to her old friend," Ralph argued.

Barry's head tilted, and he straightened. "You need to remember who it is that you take orders from," Barry warned. "Or you'll be next."

Suddenly, Sara understood. They planned to kill her, too. It left her with an odd sense of calm, knowing that if she couldn't get Leonard out of this, she wouldn't, either. But why was Barry plotting to kill them?

Ralph swallowed, his eyes wide as he glanced between Sara and Barry. "You always said we wouldn't kill innocents," he said.

Barry let out a huff of a laugh. "She's not innocent," he said. "She's probably killed more men than you."

Sam chuckled, too, a dark, menacing sound.

"If you don't see it, you won't have to lie about it," Barry added. "Leave, Ralph. That's an order."

Ralph looked at Sara again, his eyes still wide and worried. But one last steely look from Barry sent him rushing down the corridor and out of sight.

"Barry," Sara called, as he started to follow Ralph out.

He stopped, looking back reflexively.

"What's happening?" she asked. "Why won't you let us go?"

None of this made sense. Sara could remember being drugged, now – she still felt light-headed and weak, and the room spun every time she moved her head. Still, even in her darkest dreams, she couldn't have imagined a Barry this cold and heartless.

It left icy fear in her stomach, wondering if she was imagining this at all.

"Sam," Barry said, speaking to the man even as his eyes stayed on Sara. "Make sure this doesn't take too long."

Then he was gone.

Sara gaped at the sight of his retreating back, mind racing.

I have to get free. She pulled at the ropes around her, struggling fiercely. Every breath was an effort, and Sara counted each one, knowing as she did that it was one second less that Leonard had.

Her chair jumped forward, and for a moment she was triumphant, until Sam stalked toward her and pushed her back with a growl, shoving her gag back into her mouth.

"You're just making this worse, sweetheart," he crooned.

Just then, a crashing sound echoed down the hall. Sam grunted and strode to the doorway, motioning to men Sara couldn't see.

"Go check that out," he ordered, before coming back to Sara. She stiffened at the sudden, sharp cold of his hands at her arms.

"Up you get," he ordered, as the ropes fell loose around her. Sara almost cried in relief, readying herself to attack and break free.

But her reflexes were compromised, and she was too slow. Sam had one hand gripping her wrists and the other holding a gun to her neck before she could even breathe.

The sounds of gunshots reverberated down the hall, stopping Sara's heart.

"Sounds like Julian is about done with your boyfriend," Sam taunted, his breath hot at her ear, covering the noise of another crash and more gunshots. "Or should I say husband?" He laughed as Sara squirmed, pressing the gun deeper into her skin.

Sara's blood boiled. She stomped back hard on Sam's foot, pressing in with her heel until he yowled with pain.

"Don't make me shoot you before Julian comes back," he growled, twisting her wrists and knocking her knees in. Sara collapsed, held only by Sam's tight grip.

It can't end like this, she thought, desperately, trying to regain her feet. But the sudden quiet raked at her, settling like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. Leonard wouldn't stop putting up a fight until he was dead. If there was no fight…

A lone set of footsteps clicked toward them.

"Speak of the devil," Sam said, "there's Julian now. Took him long enough."

Sara stopped breathing. They killed him, she realized, even as her heart rejected the words. She slumped, letting herself go limp. It's over. She couldn't believe it. All that fighting. Everything they'd been through, for nothing – just to die here, lost and confused and alone. And Leonard – Leonard…

"Julian!" Sam called. "Tell me I get to kill the girl."

The footsteps slowed. Sara hung her head, all the fight drained out of her. Leonard. Her heart cried out for him. Her body shook, rejecting the loss even as the pain of it seeped into her bones.

And then a figure emerged from the shadows.

"You don't get to kill her."

Sara's head snapped up, not believing her ears.

"Leonard!" she cried.

He was a mess, but still standing, a gun trained on Sam. Even at a distance and in the dim light of the warehouse, Sara could see bruises forming on his cheeks. His clothes were crumpled, one of his suspenders hanging loosely at his side. But he was here. He was alive.

You came back to me.

Sam's grip tightened on her wrists. He pushed her to her feet, shoving her in front of him.

"Oh yeah?" Sam goaded. The gun dug into her neck. "What're you gonna do to stop me?"

Sara watched Leonard's eyes widen with fear. His gun slipped down a fraction of an inch.

And for the first time that night, she felt afraid for her own life.

Leonard's heart raced, hammering in his chest like a machine gun. Sara was so close. They were so close to getting out of this. Except there was that feeling in his bones – that icy knowingness he always had right before things went south.

Sam fucking Scudder, he thought bitterly, glaring at the man holding Sara like a human shield. First Barry, now him. At least Leonard expected this disgusting behavior from Sam, even if he didn't understand what he was doing here. He didn't really care – it didn't matter, as long as he could get Sara back safely.

Sara. He soaked in the sight of her, noting her every cut and scrape, vowing revenge for each one. They'd gagged her, he realized with a flare of anger. But her eyes were bright and determined as she stared back at him, despite all of it.

"What're you gonna do?" Sam repeated, pressing his cheek to Sara's and sneering back at Leonard, taunting him.

Leonard's arm shook with rage, and his gun popped back up. Maybe he could make the shot, even if the gun was unfamiliar in his hand.

But could he live with it, if he missed, if he killed her? Could he live with it if Sam shot first? His finger curved around the trigger.

"I'll –"

A shadow moved, growing from the darkness behind Sara and Sam, stopping Leonard short. He watched as the shadow morphed into a man, standing slowly, reaching out with his own gun. The shadow man put a finger to his lips, signaling quiet.

"I'll…" Leonard hesitated, swallowing, not sure whether to trust the shadows with Sara's life.

"You'll what?" Sam goaded.

Then a single shot rang out, and Sam dropped to the floor.

"Kill you," Leonard finished, weakly, releasing his unused gun as Sara rushed toward him.

Leonard caught her as she flew into his arms, clinging to her tightly. "Thank god," he murmured, his eyes closing as he held her. He'd never come closer to believing in a higher power than in that moment.

"I thought you were dead," she sighed, grabbing his face in her hands as soon as she dropped to the ground. He returned the gesture, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Please," he murmured, his eyes watering. "You're the one I was afraid for." He released relieved laughter, wondering what Mick would say to see him like this.

Sara laughed too, as a tear escaped her eyes. "Please," she agreed, drawing his forehead down to meet hers. They stood like that for a long moment, both unwilling to let the other go.

A gruff cough brought them back to the present.

"We need to get out of here," said a familiar voice.

Leonard's head snapped up in shock, staring at their rescuer.

"Mick?" he asked, stunned.

"Well," Mick shrugged, "my Leonard always calls me Mickey, but sure." He nodded to the door. "I hope we're friends on your Earth, because I'm the only friend you've got tonight."

"Our…Earth?" Sara asked. "You mean this isn't…"

"Welcome to Earth-20," Mick said, spreading his arms. "That's what the perfessor calls it, anyway. Even though it's the goddamn Earth we're from."

Leonard pulled Sara closer to him, mind spinning. First Barry, then Sam, now Mick… And what did he mean, Earth-20?

"But we're in the past," Sara argued, sounding as confused as he felt.

Mick sighed. "Not the past for us, is it?" he grumbled. "Perfessor says our timeline doesn't match most other Earths. Something to do with the war. Who cares? We need to go. Now."

"You're saying we're not on our own Earth?" Leonard asked, still reeling.

"That's right, boss," Mick agreed. "You're on one of many alternate Earths. Or you are as long as you're alive, anyway. But that won't last long if we don't get out of here."

Sara met Leonard's eyes with a look that he knew mirrored his own.

So much for creating an aberration to get their team's attention. He had no idea how the Waverider would ever find them now.