The next time he was pulled back into the world, he found himself standing in the midst of crossfire.
He came back to a cacophony of weapons resounding fast and furious and a hail of bullets raining down mere feet from where he stood.
Instinct kicked in and he dropped and rolled behind the relative cover of a nearby wooden crate. He peered out beyond the slight sanctuary his hiding place afforded to try and see just what the hell was going on.
He was in a dimly lit warehouse filled with crates and boxes. The hazy light of day filtered through cracks in the wooden walls and ceiling. The space echoed with the loud staccato eruptions of machine gun fire. To his left a bunch of goons in uniforms that made them look like they belonged sometime in the 20th century were firing a nonstop volley of bullets. From his right came an answering stream of flames.
Mick!
He saw his partner standing alongside Rip, both men firing their weapons and defending themselves from their advisories. From the look of things, his teammates would easily dispatch their opponents in short order. Only...from behind Mick and Rip and beyond their field of vision, Leonard saw another lone gunman approaching them. The gunman raised his weapon, putting Mick and Rip in his sights.
Without hesitation, Leonard sprang into action. He went from a crawl, to a crouch, to a full-on run, flinging himself at the enemy without taking heed of the fact that he had no weapon with which to defend himself.
Except surprise. Fortunately, that was enough.
He crashed into the other man and the two of them went down hard but Leonard had prepared himself to tuck and roll upon impact. The other man dropped his weapon and it bounced a couple of feet along the hard, dirt-packed floor.
Leonard came up onto his knees and dealt his foe two quick and well-placed jabs with his fists, rendering the man unconscious. He grabbed the fallen weapon and whirled around.
To find himself barrel to barrel with Mick's heat gun.
Mick and Rip has dispatched the last of their opponents, and a sudden silence hung heavy in the warehouse. Leonard heard Mick's sharp inhalation.
"Snart! What the f-?"
"Mr. Snart!" Rip came forward, holding out his hand. Leonard got to his feet and moved the gun to his other hand so that he could accept Rip's offer of a handshake.
"Sara told us of her encounter with you and it's wonderful to now see you in the flesh!"
Mick elbowed Rip out of the way and enveloped Leonard in a bear hug so fierce he felt himself lifted off the ground.
"Buddy!" Mick said. "Thanks for the save, man."
Mick moved to put him back down, but his feet wouldn't touch the floor. Leonard looked down, only to be horrified once more as he watched his legs disappear.
Sara paced back and forth across the bridge, trying to vent her frustration in a way more acceptable to her teammates than physically lashing out at something...or somebody. What she wouldn't give just then to be facing down a formidable enemy so that she could expend her feelings of anger and helplessness and heartache in the fight.
Twice now he had come back to them, only to disappear again. Lost, found, gone. Gone again.
In the space of a few weeks, Sara had experienced sorrow and grief, first for Leonard, then for Laurel. Then, joy, when Leonard had come back. When she watched him fade out and away from her she'd been horrified but at the same time she'd clung on to a determined hope, that he was out there somewhere, that they would find him.
Now, her hope warred with a feeling of helplessness. She was used to going out and meeting problems head on, to being able to apply her own wits and skills to find a solution. She was powerless in this situation.
She hadn't even gotten to see him this time.
Sara whirled around to march back across the deck of the bridge. She found Ray's gaze on her, eyeing her with a sympathetic look. It sparked an irrational anger.
"Two geniuses!" she said, her hands fisting at her sides. "Two geniuses, advanced technology, an artificial intelligence, and nobody can figure out a way to bring him back!"
"Sara…" Rip stepped forward and spoke in a conciliatory tone.
She threw up her hands and averted her gaze to avoid his look that was largely sympathetic but also held a small measure of bewilderment. They had all been shaken by the loss of Leonard, by his heroism and his sacrifice for the team. But she suspected they were a little surprised by the depth of her sorrow because they didn't know, didn't understand, what had been evolving between her and him.
What the future will hold for me. And you. And me and you.
All at once, the fight went out of Sara, replaced by weariness and a helpless resignation.
"Please help him," she said, eyeing Rip, Ray and Martin in turn. "Please."
She left the bridge for the lonely solitude of her quarters.