Warnings on this chapter for blood, non-graphic description of injury and... angst. Lots of angst. More angst than I remembered.

AFanofYourStory: They're definitely both heroes- Snart just... hides that part of himself a little more deeply than some of the others. Except maybe Mick. Mick likes to hide his too. Thank you so much for the review though! I'm glad that you find them in character and I can't tell you how much hearing that means!

As always, these characters belong to DC and the CW and are not mine... unfortunately. That would be fun, wouldn't it?


The "handgun," however, was aimed directly at Snart's heart.

"I'd put your hands up if I were you."

Very slowly, Snart complied, raising his hands in the air.

The henchman still in the cell released his grip on Ray, who promptly raised his hands in the air as well (at least he was being smart for once), and stepped around him, retrieving his fallen comrade.

As he dragged the prone (or deceased) man back to his fellows, he glanced up at Snart. Even behind the tinted visor of his helmet, Snart could swear he felt the other man's eyes meeting his own.

He narrowed his eyes, refusing to be intimidated by this faceless soldier. He'd dealt with minions before.

And then movement caught his attention and his eyes flickered back to their captor. The captain, he was sure.

"You think you can try to overpower me?" the "Captain" said. There was a rage, something dangerous, present in his eyes, lurking beneath the carefully controlled surface. It was a deceptively calm anger. He was in control of his emotions, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to act on them.

"You think you can try to escape, make it back to your precious captain? No one leaves this ship unless I say so, and unless Rip Hunter returns the artifact that was stolen from me, you will not leave here alive."

"Yeah, well, Rip's trying to save the world," Ray said from his position behind Snart. Snart ground his teeth, willing him to shut up. Mouthing off when their captor was in such a mood was sure to end poorly. "And what are you? Just some mercenary, some pirate? Interested in his own gain?"

The Captain's face twisted into something between a pained grin and a frown.

"Your friend likes to talk," he said, addressing Snart.

"Ignore him. He tends to be like that sometimes," Snart said, eyes never leaving the gun leveled at his chest.

The man shook his head. "'You may think that I am heartless," he said, "but I can assure you I am not. I care deeply for my men. You have taken one of them from me." So he was dead then. "How would your Rip Hunter feel if I did the same?" He tilted his head, studying them. "An eye for an eye, if you will."

His finger tightened around the trigger and Snart braced himself, ready to face death with dignity.

He was ready to die.

At least he could be sure that Mick's face would be the last thing this man ever saw as his partner sought vengeance.

And maybe they'd tell Lisa he died a hero…

(Sentimental much, his brain sneered at him.)

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it all depended on your take, the future handgun made as much noise as a modern one.

Snart flinched, a movement so small no one but he noticed it, but the man had shifted the gun's aim at the last possible second.

The bullet didn't hit him.

He wondered for an instant if the man could possibly have missed unintentionally.

But then he caught the man's eye, the satisfied smirk as he lowered the gun to his side.

He hadn't intended to hit Snart.

With a sinking feeling he couldn't quite explain settling in his gut, Snart turned around.

Ray was on his back, eyes wide with shock, gasping like a fish out of water.

His trembling hands were already grasping at the wound on his thigh, from which blood was leaking, a small puddle of it already gathering on the floor beneath him.

"And now," their captor said pocketing the weapon as if he hadn't just shot a man, "I'm afraid I'll have to inform your dear captain of this new development. And you," he looked pointedly at Snart, "have two choices. You can let your 'teammate,'" why did it sound like he used quotation marks around the word? "bleed out on the floor there." He gestured to Ray. "Or you can do what you can to stop the blood flow and save his life. It's your choice."

He added the last part almost carelessly and, with that, he turned on his heel walked away, leaving the choice in Snart's hands.

"Damn it, Idiot!"

Decision made, Snart dropped to his knees beside Ray.Always the idiot. "Had to go and put yourself in the line of fire, didn't you?"

"Actu'lly." Ray coughed, eyes screwed shut with pain. "That one's… kinda on you."

Though he'd never admit it, Snart was immensely relieved that Ray was still lucid enough to talk.

"S'rry," Ray slurred then, panting. "Didn't mean to…"
"Save your breath, Raymond," Snart muttered. "I know when to take the blame."

Ray started to say something that might have been something about the man with the gun, but he broke out into another coughing fit and wisely took Snart's advice-for the time being at least.

Gently, a word Snart had never before attributed to himself, he pried Ray's hands away from his thigh, exploring the wound with his own hands.

He ignored the small whimper that resulted.

To all appearances, it was clean, not as messy as other wounds he'd seen during his time as a professional crook, and, if they were lucky, there wouldn't be a bullet for them to remove.

He wasn't sure they were dealing with the kind of gun to fire bullets. There wasn't a mark in the walls of the cells where one could have hit.

In any case, he didn't think it was a good idea to roll him over to try and find an exit wound and he sure as hell wasn't going to go searching for a bullet or lack thereof.

They needed to put pressure on the wound. Stop the bleeding. The blood was flowing too sluggishly for it to have hit an artery, but he could still bleed out.

It would just take longer.

Having nothing else, he pressed his hands against the wound.

"Can't b'lieve," Ray managed, speaking up again, "got shot."

"With all the talking you do," Snart said, "I'm surprised it's taken this long."

A pause. Then he added, "And you're not allowed to die on me either. If you die, I don't think will ever forgive you and if Mick doesn't forgive you, then you're in for hell."

It wasn't much, but it got a small smile. That was something, at least.

It meant he wasn't dead yet.

"Keep that… in mind."

"You do that."

His own hands were already slick with blood.

Ray's face was already ashen, the mix blood loss and pain setting in.

Snart needed to get the blood loss under control.

"You need to control the bleeding." Snart grabbed Ray's hands, which had slackened, and pressed them back against the wound. "Keep your hands like this."

Ray grimaced, but nodded tightly.

Snart was not entirely unsympathetic.

He'd experienced a bullet wound once before after all. One of the first jobs he'd pulled with Mick.

A bullet had clipped in the side. In and then out again, but the didn't mean it hadn't hurt like hell.

It had.

He'd pretty much cursed everything in existence as the two of them had managed to retreat in safety where they'd cleaned the wound and then tightly bandaged his torso.

And then there'd been the painful process of keeping it clean, because, say what you will, even crooks knew to guard against the dangers of infection.

And that was another problem here.

Snart didn't have anything to prevent infection.

The cell did appear sterile, but-and he wasn't a doctor, mind- there was still that risk.

He could come up with makeshift bandages, tearing strips from his shirt (he was without his parka) and using them to stop the blood flow, if they were here for that long, but that brought in a whole new set of risks.

"Your captain's on his way." The voice came from behind. Smooth, melodic, calm.

He recognized it instantly.

Snart turned, a cold fury in his eyes. "You shot him."

"I did," the man acknowledged calmly,almost serenely. "An eye for an eye, as I mentioned before. Except I am not cold-hearted. I have given your comrade a fighting chance."

"You call bleeding out a fighting chance?"

"He is alive," the man said. "For now. His survival is left entirely up to fate." He eyed them as if they were some kind of zoo exhibit. "And you of course."

Snart clenched his jaw, but the man carried on.

"Quite frankly, I'm surprised you care, Mr. Snart." A sideways glance in his direction. An almost amused gleam in his eyes, a small smile. "Yes, I do know who you are. I like to find things out for myself, you see. Leonard Snart. Or would you prefer Captain Cold?" The smallest amount of satisfaction crossed his face at seeing Snart's quickly hidden surprise.

He took a step forward, stopping before the glass. His face was mere inches from it. "Perhaps you are the coldhearted one here, Mr. Snart. You're a thief, playing by your own rules."

Snart's hands fisted at his sides, but he made no other move. "You don't know me," he said steadily.

"So enlighten me… why do you care, Mr. Snart?"

"You like to find things out for yourself. Find that one out," Snart shot back.

The man didn't answer. Maybe he was one of the few who could appreciate having his own words thrown back at him.

Snart doubted that.

He didn't seem like the type.

"He's going to need medical attention," Snart said, shifting topics.

The man raised an eyebrow mildly. "That's what you're in there for," he answered.

"I don't mean me. I mean real medical attention," Snart corrected, though he had no reason to believe that this man would be willing to help them, but, short of begging, he was willing to ask for it.

Ray was still conscious-and wasn't that something he never thought he'd be relieved about-but he was still losing blood.

"Why should I help you?" the man asked finally. "You're prisoners of war…"

He ignored Snart's, "Well I wouldn't go that far."

"...and beyond that, you have already taken one of my men. I think I've been beyond generous with you both."

"Because," Snart didn't break eye contact, "if one of us dies, you're going to have more than an exchange on your hands. You're going to be dealing with vengeance. You're so confident when you have leverage, but can you handle them without it?"
The man's left eye twitched, but other than that, he remained expressionless.

"You are in no position to be threatening me," he said, finally, and he walked away.

"What… happ'd?" Ray asked blearily when Snart was once again at his side.

"Nothing much," Snart said, sarcastically. He shot a dirty look at the empty space where their captor had just been. "Just had a bit of a heart to heart with our host."

Ray shifted his head to get a better look at him. "You're not… hurt?"
Snart resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. "No, Raymond. You're the one who's hurt, in case you've forgotten."

Ray coughed again, a sound that Snart could have almost sworn was intended to be a laugh. "Hard to," he muttered.

It was half an hour later, by Snart's count, when something that could only be an explosion sounded in the distance.

The lights flickered and the floor rocked almost gently beneath them.

Ray's eyelids fluttered open. "Wha's happening?" he asked, words slurring together with the effort it took to get them out.

Snart glanced up at the ceiling, at the light fixtures, and then back down at Ray. "Rescue," he said simply.


So when I originally wrote this, I assumed that various unknowns would makes themselves, well, known to me when I sat down to rewrite this on my computer. My villain, however, never shared his name with me. He was willing to participate in my story this once, but he's, well, he's a private guy. Never introduced himself. Rude. I didn't push him, though. That wasn't really the point of this story.

The next chapter is shorter, so it should be up tomorrow, or maybe even later on today if I get the chance, which isn't likely, but is still a possibility.

As always, I'd love to hear what you think, what your favorite part/line was or just your overall impression. :D

Thanks for reading!