Just to let you know, on Sunday, I posted some major revisions to 'Dear Lisa', including some new content. Feel free to check it out!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything from 'DC's Legends of Tomorrow' any other Arrowverse shows, or DC Comics.

WORD COUNT: 1,033


It had taken Leonard several more minutes to allow Sara approach to him, but now she sat next to him on the bench, although she stayed as far away as possible, given that he'd had an aversion to uninvited contact from the moment she'd met him, and probably for most of his life. Given how disoriented and wary he was right now, she was taking enough chances as it was.

In between cautious glances in her direction, he was slowly taking stock of his own condition. They'd patched him up as best as they could on the Jump Ship, particularly the wound inflicted by Al-Khitaf, but he'd done even more damage to an already-broken hand and had gained many more bruises in the fight. She realised all of a sudden that she wouldn't be able to properly answer the question of how he got half of his injuries, that she could only presume he'd gotten them fighting Chronos. Judging from what she'd seen of the rest of the team, though, he appeared to have taken the worst of it.

"So, how much do you remember?" she asked after a while, keeping her voice low.

He sighed, rubbing his temple with his uninjured hand and wincing when he touched the sorest spot. "I don't… I only remember bits and pieces, and they don't seem to fit together."

She hummed in agreement. "That should be expected. What happened to you doesn't happen to a lot of people; one of my friends went through it, and she was pretty disoriented afterwards. I wasn't there for it, but she recognized her biological father and asked him where her mother was. The problem was that her mom was already dead by the time she started getting to know him as 'Dad'. And that had all been about a year earlier. But she got over it within a few days."

She only knew the details about two resurrections by the Lazarus Pit: Thea's and her own, and so far Leonard was following the pattern of the former. It made sense; both had been wounded and dying when they were immersed in its waters, while Sara herself had been fully dead for a year. It was a relief; she couldn't bear the guilt if he'd been left a soulless animal because he'd had to go rescue her.

"What, exactly, did happen to me?" he asked eventually.

Sara sighed. "It's called the Lazarus Pit. No one knows its origins, but it's a spring of water that can extend a person's lifespan. It can heal the wounded, save the dying, and resurrect the dead. You were badly injured, your throat had been cut, and you fell into the Pit purely by accident." He was staring at her incredulously, though his exhaustion seemed to be fading. "When you came out… The Lazarus Pit doesn't heal people for free. My friend came up with a term that fits it pretty well: Bloodlust. Those of us who've been in contact with the Pit's waters are cursed with an urge to kill. It can be resisted, but it doesn't go away. You went berserk on our enemies, and I had to knock you out in order to get you someplace safe."

Leonard blinked slowly, several times, and she let him process it. Perhaps she should have waited until he'd fully recovered before dumping the 'you-should-be-dead-and-now-you're-cursed-for-life' bomb on him. When she did get a response, it was a shake of the head and classic denial: "No. No, that's ridiculous. You can't expect me to believe that shit."

"Do you remember the Flash?" she asked, "Barry Allen? A man who can run faster than you can blink? Or Mark Mardon, a man with the power to control the weather, who once used it to break you out of prison? The world has actually been full of ridiculous shit for a long time, but it's become public knowledge lately, and you've personally been witness to it on a regular basis for over a year by now."

His brow furrowed, as he got that look that she recognised as Leonard Snart deep in thought.

Quiet footsteps from the hallways outside reached her ears, though Leonard didn't appear to notice. He did, however, notice when the door to Sara's left slid open and Kendra slowly peered around the corner, her right hand holding a bowl of soup while a first aid kid was dangling from her left. The reincarnated hawk-priestess's eyes swept between the two of them, taking in the scene. "Hey," she said quietly after a few seconds (and Sara's nod that it was okay). Leonard's head snapped up at the sound of her voice.

"It's okay," Sara immediately reassured him, "This is Kendra. She's a friend." To Kendra, she added: "His memories are a little scattered. It'll take some time for him to remember everything."

Kendra nodded, stepping into the cell and holding out the bowl. "We were wondering if you were hungry, so I brought some soup. And if it's alright, I'd like to take another look at your injuries."

He eyed both of her offerings suspiciously. "I'll pass." It wasn't unexpected; Leonard hadn't been welcoming towards someone taking care of him even when he remembered who they were. But Sara wasn't going to let him completely get away with it this time.

"You were stabbed in the side several hours ago, you somehow still have a broken hand, and your throat was slashed, Snart. That last one seems to have been fixed but at the very least, those bandages need to be changed until we can get you into the Med Bay." Because she didn't want to overwhelm him with the obviously-futuristic infirmary until he recovered more of his memories.

He glanced down at his casted hand, looked at the lump of bandages under his shirt, and reached up to touch his neck, almost subconsciously. She saw his eyes widen when he felt the faint, raised scar running across the front of his throat. He looked slightly panicked, and that concerned her, because he was actually letting himself look afraid in front of not just her, but Kendra.

The other woman met her eyes, clearly also worried.