"So, you and the kid."

Len leaned back, legs stretched out in front of him as he let his eyes roam. "No idea what you mean."

The place hadn't changed, but he didn't feel any nostalgia. The Waverider was his past. There was no place for him here. Not anymore. Stepping aboard hadn't launched any sentimental feelings.

Mick's brows lowered and the scowl was impressive. "Pull the other one, Snart."

His cool, analyzing mind turned to Mick Rory, eyes taking in the other man. Still so very much the same, with barely a physical change, but something was different on a whole new level. There was a looseness to him, something Len had never seen in his oldest friend ever since the third degree burn scars had permanently been etched into his skin because of that almost fatal heist.

Len knew what Mick Rory had been and could have been. He knew that trauma triggered abilities, but it also buried them under the nightmares and scars, physical and mental, and in Mick's case, it had forged a fortress that had rivalled Len's own shut-off emotions. But for Mick, losing his senses had come with a price and that price had been severe. Mentally unstable, tethering on an edge above a vast abyss of darkness, he could have taken that last step and be done with humanity, but he hadn't. Even so far gone as he had been, shut down and locked in a cage of sensory loss, he had still maintained enough of himself to make it to this day. There had been cases in the history of Sentinels, strong Sentinels, when one went off-line and then lost himself in a feral stage that led to the Sentinel's demise.

Now there was a change.

"You and Raymond?" he drawled instead of falling for the bait, eyebrows rising.

Not much of a long shot, he mused silently. Raymond was good on the eyes. He also wasn't a guy to be intimidated into a hook-up, so this was mutual.

Mick snorted and took a long gulp of his beer.

"Taking the edge off, Mick?"

There was a sudden flare, a fire that was as wild and untamed as Len remembered. It was something that had been lost for nearly a decade now. Holy fucking shit! ran through his head again and again while he remained perfectly detached on the outside.

"Not your business, Snart."

He had triggered! He was back!

Thinking of possible reasons gave him a moment of vertigo.

Leonard Snart had died. He had taken the place of a broken Sentinel who had wanted to end it, finish himself and be done with numbed, useless senses and the memories of what he had been. Mick had knocked out Palmer to take his place.

Ray, who had been told that this was how he was going to die and he had embraced that fate. Mick's decision had been an incredible step already and should have told Len so much, but at the time he had been too busy defying everyone trying to control him.

And through his sacrifice Len had shattered the walls, torn open the scars, and the Sentinel had come on-line again.

Alone. With Leonard Snart gone, which had been the trigger.

"Mick," he managed, voice uncharacteristically rough, emotions spilling over.

"Don't!" the other man snapped.

They looked at one another, Len seeing the seething fire, the still present anger. It wasn't that dark, dark place anymore. It wasn't the abyss that Mick had loved to look into for hours, trying to find what he had lost. It was a different darkness, one he had control over.

"I didn't think it was possible," he finally murmured, voice still not as under control as he wanted it to be.

It got him a snort. Len studied him, took in the many small signs that spoke of massive changes.

"So it's not just for kicks, get your rocks off."

Mick's warning growl had him smile.

"Same with you." Rory's grin was almost terrifying. "Didn't think you'd ever get to that point. What?" he asked as Len shot him a scowl. "You think I'm so thick that I didn't see your interest in the kid? You protected his identity, didn't tell Lisa or me. That's something."

"We had a deal. I gave him my word," he said emotionlessly. "That was all."

"Nah. Was more. You and he were really all over each other. It was a game to you, a game you loved, and he really got into it as well. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife." He grinned, eyes alight with an almost evil glint. "You had some weird flirting going on. I didn't think anything would come out of it. Red being Red. You being you."

Snart scowled.

"You and him? You bitched about him all the time! You complained, you ranted… then you went and saved his life when you had the chance to kill him, be done with the threat. You liked it, Lenny. You lived for it."

Len's non-verbal warning to drop it glanced completely off the other man. Mick gave him an unimpressed look. He emptied the bottle and grabbed the other one.

"So, what happened at Oculus, aside from hitting me over the head? Taking my choice from me," he stated, old anger curling around each word.

"I made my choice. It's what I had to do."

"Be a hero."

He shot him a sardonic look. "I'm not a hero."

"Neither am I. We never were. Criminals. Best at the job. Never heroes."

"I made a choice, Mick," Len told him quietly.

"That plan of yours? Went up in flames from the start."

He gave the other man a rueful little smile. "I think I never had a plan to begin with."

Mick snorted. "That would be a first."

"Debatable. I had worse."

Mick took a long pull. "Looks like you're playing with the new team now. What's he got on you, Lenny?"

Len chuckled. "That's between him and me."

"So he does have something." Mick frowned.

"Not in the way you think. No strings on me."

The other man studied him face giving nothing away. "You trust him," Rory finally stated, sounding curious.

"As you trust Raymond."

Mick stiffened, eyes narrowing.

"You trusted him enough to keep you balanced after everything came back."

Raymond had never made a secret out of his Guide abilities, though he also hadn't flung that knowledge at them right away. Gideon had revealed that interesting tidbit, but only because of an incident where Raymond had talked down an almost feral Sentinel in Wild West America while they had been on a mission. Mick hadn't so much as twitched at the revelation, not even looked at Ray more than before, and Len had filed that knowledge away.

Mick was back on-line. He had his Sentinel abilities back and Snart wondered how much and how intensely it had come back. Before the fire, before escaping the ambulance and letting the terrible burns heal on their own, disfiguring scars and all, Mick had been good with the usual three strong senses. With so much burn-scarred skin, Snart mused on touch for a moment.

"Tell me, Mick, did you let him bond to you?" he asked, making it a taunt.

The large hands became larger fists.

Holy fucking fricking fuck! ran through his head again and again.

Mick Rory had not only triggered again, he had bonded to a Guide! He had bonded to Ray Palmer who was, among so many other things, apparently a Guide strong enough to take on the darkness!

Holy fucking fricking shit!

According to Gideon, Raymond was your run-of-the-mill Universal Guide, far from the ideal partner because of the broad spectrum he could connect to Sentinels and even other Guides. For a Sentinel to claim such a Guide, the emotions would have to be very strong and the Sentinel in question would have to really want that connection.

Mick had.

Mick Rory had bonded to a Guide, hadn't overwhelmed him, had claimed him completely, and made the Universal into his own. That took guts and strength from both partners.

"Congrats," he raised his beer. "Sorry I missed the party."

"Keep out of it, Snart," came the low warning.

He held up his hands, smirking. "Sure."

Mick studied him, those eyes sharper now, more like he had been before that fateful fire. His brows drew down.

"Something happened to you."

"I died, Mick."

That got him a rough little laugh. "And you came back. You were torn apart by the Time Stream and yet here you are."

"And I told you, I don't know why. Time decided not to tear me to pieces and scatter me. Maybe as a thank you for freeing it from control?"

And now that he said it, Snart thought it rang true. That was exactly what Time had told him, though, in its own way. He had been the conduit, he had been the one to give the Waverider's crew back free will. And he had healed Time.

"Why did you sacrifice yourself?" Rory finally asked again, voice rough, emotions flitting through his eyes Len had only rarely seen rise within the other man.

"It had to be me," he said calmly. "Only me."

"Why? I was dispensable. The broken piece, Lenny. The outsider. You belonged."

Len played with his bottle, mind going over the question. Back then it had been instinct, to save his friend, to give him a future. Snart himself? There had been no strings, as he had always said. It had to be him. He had felt it, deep within, and maybe, just maybe, it had been the difference in him. The conduit.

"When I was a kid, my father dragged me off to be tested. He thought I might be a Sentinel. He would have taken a Guide, too." His eyes were on the bottle. "I was none of that. All I was ever good at was making the plans, executing them to the second. That's what I could do and nothing else. Time was my friend, my ally. I understood time and timing."

Mick watched him like he had watched flames not too long ago, fascinated, captivated, his full attention on him. But it was a different kind of attention. That of a Sentinel, that clear, sharp attention of a predator. Mick was a brawler, a hunter, a warrior and he would kill what threatened him or his Guide. Or those under his protection.

"The master tactician, always in control, always with the fail-safe," Len went on, voice softer now, holding those intense eyes. "A grasp of time and space, of everything around me. I didn't think it was something extraordinary. Looks like I was wrong. I don't know why I did what I did. I'm not suicidal, never have been."

"But you sacrificed yourself," Mick rumbled.

"Maybe because of what I am. Maybe because deep down inside, something knew that I would get out of this. That to free Time from control would give me a chance; only me."

"So you're what?" he demanded.

Len let his eyes flit around the room, then met Mick's questing gaze. So unlike Barry and yet just like the meta Sentinel in many regards. "Nothing that's known. Nothing as clear-cut as a Sentinel or Guide. Time needed a conduit to pull itself back together. That was me. That's what I give: control. I'm that conduit, Mick. I was inside the Time Stream and it ran around me, through me, realigned itself, used me as an anchor to moor itself."

Mick's mouth opened, then snapped shut again. "What the fuck?"

Len shrugged. "Didn't know I had that. Looks like it was the reason I survived."

The other man scowled furiously at him and Snart knew there was a lot going on behind those glaring eyes. "You never did anything without a plan."

"No."

"So you had no plan back then."

Len briefly inclined his head. "I had a plan. Be a fucking hero."

"You had a plan," Mick repeated, voice hard, that of the Sentinel, and he leaned forward. "Stop lying, Snart."

Len met the glowering gaze. "You were all worth saving."

"So were you."

"I had my time, Mick. I didn't think I had anything else to give. So my plan was to give you the chance. You were still going somewhere."

"I was fucking broken!" Mick roared.

"No. You were healing. Not as a Sentinel, but as a human being," Len stated quietly. "You were getting better. And yes, the Time Pigs did a number on you, but ultimately, it started the process."

The anger rose briefly, then fell away as Rory clenched his hands into fists. "You left, Snart. We were partners!"

Snart studied his old friend and smiled, the last masks and pretense falling away. "Yes. We were and we still are. I had to give this to you, Mick. My plan worked. All of Time was saved. Maybe it was instinct, knowing I could do this without knowing what it was I could do. I couldn't have explained it to you if I tried. I didn't know what I know now."

"That you're a conduit." Mick emptied the beer, but he didn't go for another. "That lead you to him? Scarlet?"

"Maybe." His mask smoothly slid back.

Rory smiled, showing more teeth than strictly necessary, and it looked more like some predator on the prowl.

"You're serious."

He just stared at his former partner. The lethal sharpness of the Sentinel looked back, sizing him up. This was the man he had known, the man who had been lost in that fire. Now he was back, stronger than before, growing stronger still, and absolutely balanced within a Guide.

"You never did relationships, Lenny. Never. You never trusted anyone enough. What's he got that changed that?"

"Not your business."

He laughed roughly. "That bad, huh?"

"As bad as you and Raymond."

Mick's eyes narrowed at the calm statement. There was a clear warning radiating off him. Len smirked.

"You're not a Guide," Mick rumbled.

Len was sure he was being scanned by hypersenses, but no one would ever get anything on him. Or Scarlet.

"He's no Sentinel," Rory added, scowling.

Len exhaled slowly. He wanted to talk to his oldest friend; really talk to him. He wanted to tell him a lot. Now wasn't the time and place, though. Especially the place. The walls had ears; actually, all of the ship had ears and Barry's meta Sentinel status was nothing he wanted anyone to even get a tidbit of intel on.

"Glad to see you took that chance," he finally said, decision made. It wasn't his secret to tell; it would always be Barry's decision in the end. "Never figured it to be Raymond, even if he is a Guide. Just not the type I figured you'd grab for yourself."

"Snart…"

"Yeah, you don't do the mushy stuff." He raised a placating hand. "He's yours. Good catch. No more questions." His eyebrows rose a fraction and Mick nodded his agreement.

No more questions on The Flash either.

"No hard feelings," Mick said gruffly.

"No hard feelings," he echoed.

The didn't do soft and they never did feelings, but something passed between them. They were good. Things were in the past.