Sorry about the slightly longer delay on this update. A combination of getting sick and getting enthralled by the latest Disney/Pixar movie (which you should definitely watch) kept me from making as much progress as I expected for this chapter. But it's here now. So please sit back and enjoy.

It was late. Almost everyone was asleep by now. Even if they didn't do anything more strenuous than wait and worry all day, the stress could wear away at someone. None of them could stay awake for long.

She did notice, however, that Sara had paused outside the thief's door before retiring to her own. Amaya half-expected their captain to go in, even if only for a moment. But that was probably too large of a step right now.

But while Amaya managed a few hours of sleep, she woke up and felt too restless to drift off again. Her mind practically buzzed inside her skull and ensured that further sleep would remain evasive. So after lying there for a little while, she decided to make the best of it. Amaya silently untangled herself from Nate's warm embrace and pressed a soft kiss on his lips before leaving for another part of the timeship.

Amaya slipped into medbay just as Ray yawned. She couldn't blame the scientist for being on the verge of dozing off. It would have been nice if she could manage the same thing for a little longer.

Startling slightly at her arrival, Ray stood up and asked, "Amaya? What are you doing here?"

"I was unable to sleep," she admitted, rubbing her arms. "I decided it would be better to sit with Mick for a few hours rather than pace the halls."

"Are you sure? It's really late. Or really early. You don't have to. I can stay with him. I'm not that tired," said Ray, fighting back another yawn.

Smiling at him, Amaya said, "I will be fine. And you were one of the first awake yesterday. You should try to sleep."

If he planned to argue any further, another yawn silenced him. Scratching the back of his head, Ray nodded at her and practically dragged his feet out the door.

Amaya didn't immediately take a seat. The woman instead drifted to the far side of the room, taking position at a spot near Mick's shoulder.

They left the transparent mask on his face just like the silver disc on his chest under his gray clothes, making certain that there would not be a repeat of that morning. It would ensure that he would keep breathing and his heart would keep beating, even if his body tried to surrender again. But it made Mick look weak and vulnerable, something that seemed wrong for the tall and broad man that she knew. Having him in the medbay for so long felt wrong.

The fact he was now shivering slightly under his blanket and strange clothes didn't make him seem any less vulnerable. Though it did help overall. Even the small movement from the almost constant shivering did make it clear that he was still alive. It was a little reassuring. Not much, but a little.

The memory of that morning, of him essentially dying for a moment, would take time to forget.

Absently, Amaya tugged at the silvery blanket around him. But between her attempt and his shivering, the covering slipped enough to expose his arm.

Without really thinking about what she was doing, she brushed back the long sleeve of the gray clothes. It exposed thick burn scars that started just above his wrists, scars normally hidden beneath the long sleeves of his coat or whatever shirt he chose that day. She never asked what caused those injuries, but anyone who spent time around him could draw some conclusions. His affinity with fire was the most likely culprit. She couldn't imagine how bad the burns must have been to cause such drastic scars.

But if he could survive those flames, then he could recover now. He was strong enough to pull through.

She took his hand in hers, her thumb rubbing back and forth over the rough skin. She wished that she'd stopped him from going. She wished that she had said or done something to help Mick rather than let him leave on the jump-ship alone. Maybe he wouldn't be in medbay if she did something back then.

But, ironically for a group of time-travelers, there was no point wishing to change the past. They couldn't undo Mick's choice. They could only deal with the situation in front of them.

He would be all right. Amaya silently reassured herself of that fact as she rubbed her thumb over the scars, his skin still a little cooler than it should be. He was improving. There would not be a repeat of what happened before. He would keep breathing. His heart would keep beating. He wouldn't die like Rex.

She wasn't going to lose a good friend. She wasn't going to lose anyone.

After a moment, Amaya released her hold on his hand. She leaned in close and, after a little hesitation, pressed a short kiss to his brow. From there, she readjusted the blanket back around him. Only after she felt satisfied that Mick was properly situated again did she sit in the empty chair.

His first hazy thought, one that crawled through the thick muck that seemed to have replaced his brain, was that Gideon was using the good drugs on him.

Mick didn't mean the general painkillers, the stuff that Gideon normally used before sedating her patients and getting to work on fixing the damage. These were the drugs that he would have to practically order Gabriel to administer and Gideon essentially refused to use unless someone was literally dying (he'd asked…). He remembered the particular numb and vaguely floating sensation from a few of the rougher bounties, the ones that involved Chronos barely succeeding and then dragging himself back to the Shadowslicer.

But if Gideon was giving him the good stuff, even if the dose wasn't quite as large as he'd sometimes managed to convince to Gabriel to administer, then it meant he wasn't in good shape. And it was serious enough that they hadn't already fixed everything and he still needed those drugs.

So… probably almost died, but didn't. Better than he expected, honestly. His plan didn't get him killed.

But did it work?

Prying open his eyes seemed like a bad idea. He could already tell it would be too bright in the room. The glare through his eyelids told him that much. Not to mention that there were probably better ways to use his limited energy. Like dealing with whatever was on his face.

As his awareness sluggishly returned, Mick became more and more aware of something covering his mouth and nose. It wasn't making it hard to breathe, but just having it in place somehow made him anxious. The sensation felt unpleasantly familiar, dragging up memories of Chronos and the helmet that he wore all the time. He didn't want whatever it was on his face. He wanted it off now.

His arm was partially trapped under something, but it wasn't heavy. A blanket? It entangled his limb a little until his hand pulled free and he started pawing at the thing on his face. His lack of coordination, exhausted weakness, and the general numbness didn't help with the task.

"Easy," soothed a gentle voice, a hand catching his and moving it to the armrest. "Are you awake, Mick?"

The tired grunt of acknowledgment was harder than he expected it to be. But still easier than trying to open his eyes and deal with the lights of medbay.

He heard a sigh of relief as his drug-addled mind belatedly identified the speaker as Amaya. But since the thing was still on his face, covering him like Chronos' stupid helmet, Mick tried to reach for it again. He had to get it off. He wanted the confining thing gone.

"All right," said Amaya, grabbing his hand and settling it back in place. "I get it. I'll take it off. Hold on a moment."

Gently, she pulled the annoyance from his face. Mick breathed deeply in relief at the removal, ignoring how his chest ached slightly even through the painkillers. He immediately felt calmer and certainly a lot more comfortable with the thing gone.

"Better?"

Thankfully, wordless grunts and groans were easier to produce than proper responses. A small sound was enough to answer the question.

"Good. Gideon?"

"I'll inform him at once, Ms. Jiwe," the A.I. responded mysteriously. "I will also lower the lights by forty percent."

Dimmer lights sounded great. Not as great as a drink and a tropical beach, but certainly an improvement.

"You were wrong before, Mick," said Amaya quietly. "What you told me before you left."

Curiosity prompted him to open his eyes at that statement. Mick needed to blink a few times to clear his vision, but he eventually managed to see Amaya staring down at him with wet eyes and an expression between relieved and upset with him. While he wasn't exactly thrilled about the woman having to rapidly blink to keep from making things awkward with tears, there were certainly worse things to wake up to than her.

But he had no clue what she meant.

Maybe his face ended up more expressive than he intended, but Amaya seemed to recognize his confusion. And she took pity on his drug-addled mind enough to continue.

"You said that if your plan didn't work, the only thing we would lose wouldn't be missed. You were wrong. We almost lost you, Mick."

Oh, yeah. That wasn't a conversation he planned to survive to deal with. Uncertain how to respond to that, he turned his eyes away. But it didn't help. It only brought the other medbay chair into view.

The empty chair.

Mick's eyes slipped shut, his stomach feeling like it was plunging. He failed. If he'd brought Leonard back, Mick knew he would probably need medical help and would be in medbay too. But he wasn't here.

So either Leonard didn't survive… or Mick couldn't manage to pull him out. Either way, Mick failed. He only had that one chance to get him back and it clearly didn't work. His partner was truly gone.

He should have known. He should have known this would happen. He wasn't a hero. Rescuing people wasn't a job for a crook. He could only fight, steal, and destroy. There was no way that he would be able to fix anything. There was no way that he would get back what they lost.

Maybe it would have been better not to have hoped for the impossible.

A warm hand briefly touching his arm compelled him to look at Amaya again. Her expression looked mostly the same, but her eyes seemed a bit drier at least.

"The entire team agrees that we don't want this to ever happen again," she continued. "We didn't have to take an actual vote. We all agree. No more secret plans that could kill you. Sara even made it an official rule." Her voice taking a slightly pleading tone, she added, "Please don't make us watch you almost die again. Please don't do that to us."

No matter how tired and sluggish he might be, Mick still felt something twist in him at her words. Even after everything he did or almost did, they still preferred him alive. And if he came so close to dying, it… it must have reminded them of when they lost Snart. And the hero types tended to react badly to anyone non-psychotic dying, but especially people they knew. He… must have worried them.

He didn't intend that.

Mick managed a small twitch of his head that a generous person might call a nod. Amaya visibly relaxed at his agreement. Then her gaze drifted across the room and she smiled.

"Then I shall leave the two of you to talk," she said, straightening up.

He turned his head slightly towards the door, expecting to see their captain there to lecture him. Or maybe Ray. He could easily imagine the scientist waiting eagerly to welcome him back and try to cheer him up. But Mick instead stiffened, his mind briefly going blank.

Leonard Snart stood in the doorway, wearing a familiar parka and behaving as if he'd never left.

Part of Mick warned it was another hallucination, that it wasn't real and it was too good to be true. But Amaya saw him, his partner was real, he was alive, he was back, it worked—

Shock caused Mick to jerk up and breathe in more deeply than before, resulting in a sharp pain in his chest that managed to cut through the drugs. He flinched at the sensation as it sparked off a coughing fit, forcing him back down. And that hurt worse, rattling his body with each cough as he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. Even the good painkillers couldn't dull everything and something in him was clearly battered and possibly broken. He cringed and winced between coughs, trying to catch his breath.

"Easy there, Mick. Take it easy," said Leonard, the man having crossed the room during the attack. "Just focus on breathing. Nice and slow."

Years of listening to the man's directions, both on the job and off, ensured that he obeyed the instructions without question or thought. With a little struggle, Mick managed to regain control and the coughing eased. From there, he settled back into shallower and more even breathing that let the drugs dull the pain away once more. Only then did he managed to crack his eyes back open.

Amaya and Leonard were both there, standing next to Mick's chair. It was real; this wasn't a hallucination. Her expression was more open than his partner's, but Mick could recognize after all these years that there was concern on both their faces.

"You all right?" Amaya asked. When Mick gave her a shaky nod, she said, "Good. Are you sure?" Another unsteady nod. "Very well then. Let's try this again."

This time, she managed to get out the door without anything going wrong. But Mick wasn't paying much attention to her exit beyond noticing that she paused briefly at the doorway. He just couldn't look away from his partner.

"Snart…," croaked Mick, his voice rougher, weaker, and quieter than he intended.

"Surprised? You were the one who apparently mounted a rescue for me," he said. "And that was after I knocked you out. Some people just can't take a hint."

Yeah, it was really him. This was actually happening. His plan worked.

Mick would have to repay him for that punch someday though. For the punch, for knocking him out, and for making Mick go through almost a year of knowing it should have been him instead. But any minor revenge would have to wait until he actually had the strength to take a swing at him.

Eh, maybe he would just let it go.

After a few moments of silence, some of Leonard's normal confidence slipped and his posture slumped slightly. That put Mick on edge even through his exhaustion. It was rare to see him so honest and open, even with no one else present. The sight was mildly unnerving.

"You died, Mick," he said quietly. "Not for long, but your heart stopped. You died trying to get me back."

Amaya already told him that, but now his partner was confirming it. Honestly, Mick didn't mind it too much. It had been the only choice that made sense; die or risk dying to get back his partner. His best friend.

As if Leonard wouldn't do the same for him. In fact, he did. That was why they ended up with the whole Oculus mess in the first place.

"Partners…," said Mick, his eyes feeling a bit heavier.

"Doesn't make it any easier. For now on, we go out in a blaze of glory together or not at all. Preferably not at all."

Mick managed a slight chuckle at that, but quickly stopped as it brought back the dull ache in his chest. Leonard placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Careful with those ribs. I think they're still cracked and bruised," Leonard said.

Which explained the painkillers, but not what caused the cracked ribs in the first place. But he couldn't just ask about it. He could already feel himself starting to drift off again.

Though it was possible Gideon was sedating him.

"Hey, Amaya? Do you—" Ray said as he came through the door before cutting off. His annoyingly-cheerful smile managed to grow even brighter. "Mick! You're awake."

"Nope," mumbled Mick before letting himself doze off again.

"What is with you lately and stealth-sedating people, Gideon?" asked Leonard, sending a look towards the ceiling.

"My apologies, but since Mr. Rory has recovered sufficiently that there should be minimal risk from the cellular regenerator, it would be wise to addressing his remaining injuries before he can exacerbate them further," she said. "Sedating him will make the process proceed more smoothly."

Remembering how tense and strained Mick's face looked during the coughing fit, Leonard reluctantly admitted she was right. It would be better to go ahead and fix his ribs, heart, and anything else that were harmed by their attempts to save his life. And if Mick's recovery followed his partner's even remotely, he would be sleeping a lot anyway. Leonard was just now feeling some of his normal strength returning.

"At least you didn't knock him out immediately," said Leonard.

"No," Ray said, looking mildly disappointed. "Just when I came in."

With her normal calm, Gideon said, "Mr. Snart did request to be informed when Mr. Rory regained consciousness. As did Captain Hunter, though he chose to remain back when I informed him that someone was already heading toward medbay. And it seemed prudent to wait to sedate him until after Mr. Rory had seen Mr. Snart. With evidence that his plan was a success, he should rest easier with less overall stress. That should help with his recovery."

Leonard didn't know how exactly to respond to that, though it did make him remember that Gideon could spy on the dreams of those onboard. It made him wonder what exactly his partner had been dreaming of that caused him stress and for how long it had been happening. And if he had been dreaming during his hypothermia. Or when Mick was dying.

She wouldn't tell him even if Leonard asked though. She wasn't perfect, but she seemed to understand the concept of privacy to an extent. All he could do was hope that Gideon was right and that seeing Leonard back would help whatever might trouble his partner's rest.

Whether or not he would admit to anyone else, Leonard knew he would sleep better after even the brief conversation with Mick. It was reassuring to know he was recovering enough to talk to him.

Who was he kidding? There was no way he would admit it to anyone. Talking like that was against his nature.

"Well, if you think it's safe to use the cellular regenerator again, then perhaps we should get started," said Ray.

He pulled the machine out and directed towards Mick's chest. From there, Gideon took over proceedings. The images on the display suggested she was focusing on his heart first, probably trying to repair the damage caused by electrical shocks. Even if it was meant to save his life, that much power to a vital organ was bound to leave some ill effects.

It was still less unnerving than watching his own hand being recreated in front of him.

"You know, when he feels up to moving around, we should arrange a movie marathon for the whole team," said Ray awkwardly, clearly trying to find a less tense topic than the events of the last few days. "I think we could all use a break to take our minds off everything after what's happened. It would be a good way to celebrate everyone being back."

Leonard was quiet for a moment before giving Ray a wry smile and said, "That depends. Think you can put up with a bunch of ninja films? Because Mick will want to watch those if we're having any kind of marathon."

"I know," he chuckled. "You should have seen him after he met some real ninjas."

"Mick saw ninjas? And I missed that?" Leonard shook his head briefly. "The only thing that could have made him more excited would be a visit to the Great Chicago Fire."

"After we fix time, maybe we could talk to Sara into a quick trip." Ray paused briefly before admitting, "But probably not. He's still kind of in trouble for running off alone."

First, just in case you're getting any ideas, keep in mind that Amaya is from both a different decade and a different culture originally. It is completely possible to platonically kiss someone, especially when it isn't on the lips. It does happen.

…But if you want to slap on your shipping goggles, I'm not going to try arguing with you.