Disclaimer: I do not own LOT or any of its characters.
It's the moments after the climax when she feels the most empty, like she is dying all over again, drowning in an ocean of never ending nullity, and not even the meaningless escapades she's been indulging in to keep herself distracted can ground her to herself and save her this time.
"You should really get going before my boyfriend comes home."
Sara blinks. The lifelessness fades from her eyes and every trace of it is hidden behind the twinkle of mischief. She sits up on the bed, and searches under the covers for her discarded shirt. "If you are so scared of him, why are you still with him?" She asks as she does the buttons of her navy blue shirt.
"It's complicated," her last night's corruption answers. "He's a good man. But he's territorial. He may not understand my needs. I'm scared of what he might do if he finds you here."
"I'm pretty sure I can kick his ass," she says suavely. Or persuade him to join a threesome, she wants to add, but she knows she's not ready yet to be with a man who isn't the man she's trying desperately to forget. There's a reason she's being a casanova and ending up in bed with random women, and she'd rather not think about it.
"I'm pretty sure you can't," comes the reply, and before Sara can retaliate, her jeans are shoved at her. She quickly shimmies into them, and is about to grab her shoes, when there's a powerful knock on the door.
Panicked, the woman pleads with Sara to hide in the closet, and Sara obliges, just so she can observe the couple and decide if she needs help getting out of an abusive relationship.
"You're home early," she hears the woman's voice.
There's an eerie silence interrupted only by the creaking of boots and the sound of unzipping a jacket.
Sara gets this inexplicable feeling deep inside her being that something huge is about to happen, something life changing is about to rock her world.
"I'm tired."
It's that voice that makes her forget all of her training in self control and gasp out loud and lean against the back of the closet with a loud thud, giving herself away.
There's another tense moment of silence during which her heart threatens to explode out of her chest, followed by the creaking of the same boots, and the closet door is swung open, bringing her face to face with the ghost that's been haunting her, in flesh, alive.
"Leonard?" She says, wondering if she has been trapped in some kind of weird dream by some foe she must have been battling.
He grasps her hand and yanks her out roughly, and it feels very real.
She finds herself uncharacteristically shaking from disbelief. "Leonard?" She repeats, reaching out to touch his cheek with her free hand.
Sara's eyes close, comparing the skin against her fingertips with that of the man she had touched so few times when she still had the chance. It's the same texture, the same degree of cold. It's the same Leonard.
"Who are you?" Leonard drawls in his usual calm voice. "And what are you doing in my closet?"
It would have been hilarious, if not for the shock of being a stranger to him. It makes her eyes wide open. "You don't remember me?" she asks tentatively, unsure if she wants to know the answer.
He shakes his head and waits patiently for her response.
"What about Ray? Rip? Stein?" she asks, desperately wishing he would remember something. Seeing the distant look on his face, she concludes, "You don't remember being on the Waverider."
His eyes turn stone cold. "I remember being offered to go on the Waverider. Thankfully, somebody came along and told me I'd die if I became a part of the mission. So I decided to change my fate, and avenge that dead version of me." His grip on her hand becomes forceful, and it's the first time that Sara notices something is very different about him. Something feels very wrong, very un-Leonard, and she feels like she can't put her finger on it, even though it's staring her straight in the face.
"So tell me," he asks, "You're a part of the team that killed me?"
"Killed you?" She repeats, shocked. "Nobody killed you, Len. You sacrificed yourself to save us."
"I sacrificed myself to save a bunch of heroes that I couldn't care less about. Sounds just like me," he replies sarcastically.
"You did care about us," Sara insists, and in a quieter, unsure tone, adds, "About me."
Leonard studies her intently for a moment, staring at her in a manner that's so unlike the fond admiring way he used to look at her, and seems to have reached a conclusion about her, because he lets go of her hand.
She can feel the beginning of a bruise, but it's the least painful thing she feels.
"What's your name?" Leonard asks.
He's looking at her now like it's the first time he's seeing her. It makes her feel like he's not really seeing her and it breaks her heart. "Sara. Sara Lance."
"Ta-er-al-safer," he says, sending chills down her spine, both at the mention of a name that she has been trying hard to leave behind her, and at the way he says it, like the word itself is poison. "The resident assassin of the team. I've been warned about you by one of my own teammates. So tell me, Sara," he coats her name in such malice that it makes her sick to her stomach, "Are you here to take me out?"
It's the ridiculousness of that sentence that makes her laugh, despite the tragic scene that's slowly unfolding. Sara Lance killing Leonard Snart, that'd be the day. Given a second chance, she would have been the one to take his place and save his life. She's the last person who wants him dead.
"I didn't know you'd be here," she tells him honestly, hoping he can sense the truth of her words from the ways her eyes are shining with unshed tears. "But I'm glad you are. I am so happy to see you again, Len. You should visit Mick, he's had it rough too."
"I'll pay him a visit when the time is right," Leonard answers coolly, and something in his voice sends another shiver down her spine. "As for you," he continues, taking a step back but keeping his icy gaze fixed on her. "You have one minute to get out of this room and not come back."
She's frozen in her spot. She doesn't want to leave him, not like this, not in this state where he hates them all and is likely to be on the path of vengeance, and probably become a criminal mastermind and a villain.
But there's nothing she can do, not when she's a stranger to him, a stranger whom he seems to loathe, not when she feels like she'll be on the receiving end of his cold gun if she overstays her welcome. She needs to process everything that's happening, she needs a solid plan, one grounded in logic and reason and not swayed completely by the tide of emotions that's currently washing over her. She needs to think of a way to get through to him, and she's sure she can't do it now. And so, Sara Lance finds herself rushing out the door.