She can't ever make up for what she's done, but she has to try. She  needs  to try. Because they say it doesn't matter, and that it doesn't mean anything, but she can still feel Ray's skin bruising under her touch, she can still feel the bite of the cold metal knife in her hands, she can still see the tears running down Zari's face as she struggled with seeing her brother one last time. 

And she knows she talked to them as a group, and she knows they all  said  it wasn't her, and that she has nothing to apologise for, but she has to do  something . She can't ever make this right, but she can't just let it go.

She finds Nate first,  sat at the desk in the library pouring over some manuscript or other. It's late… or early? But she's not the only one on this ship who’s stopped sleeping at regular times, instead sleeping only when she’s too tired to function, running on coffee and adrenaline and willpower.

(It was different, when Ava was here, Ava who loved routines and always pulled her into bed at a reasonable time, and somehow managed to keep her there until the morning, running a hand through her hair and placing another hand on her heart to calm her after the nightmares, making her feel safe enough to fall back to sleep, curled up into her girlfriend's side.)

She ends up leaning on the library door frame, not willing to break the fragile chaos of Nate's space, and she watches him work for a minute before clearing her throat and knocking gently on their wall.

The surprise in his eyes almost outweighs his hesitance, and he probably can't hear the way his voice wavers in uncertainty as he greets her. (But she can; she hears the way his voice catches slightly as he says her name, as if he's wondering whether she's here to talk, or to fight, or to tell him he's not good enough once again. The slight hoarseness of his voice could just be due to misuse, but she thinks fear is more likely. Because she  deserves  it. He  should  fear her, after what she'd done to the team.)

Eventually, he beckons her over and excitedly shows her the manuscript her was studying, pointing out historical inaccuracies. It doesn't surprise her, but she’s in awe of how  good  he is at what he does, how well he ties together history and time travel, always the first to spot anachronisms and point out flaws in their plans.

She listens to him for a while, and it's… it's  calm . Familiar. But she did come here for a reason, and after a while she nudges his arm, prompting him to turn to face her expectantly, waiting for her to speak. She takes a deep breath, trying to get her thoughts in order, before shoving her hands awkwardly into her pockets as she says in a quiet voice “Your dad, and your Grandfather… they'd be proud of you, you know.”

Nate sighs, turning to face her. “I know what you're doing, Sara, and you don't have to - “

“No,” Sara interrupts, more forcefully this time. “Let me finish.”

Nate’s expression softens into something that's not pity, but is far too close to it, and Sara shakes her head, needing to make him  understand.  “I know… I know it wasn't  me  who said those things to you - “ (she ignores the quiet ‘do you?’ that slips from his lips, far too concerned and far too caring) “I just wanted to tell you that they were lies, all of them. Everything. Your father and Grandfather  do  love you, and Amaya… she loves you more than anything, we can all see it. And… for what it's worth, I'm proud of you too.”

Nate smiles at her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly the same way he had only this morning. “it's worth a lot, Sara. And… thank you.” He shrugs, clearly lost for words, but then gives her a lopsided smile and squeezes her shoulder again, moving past her with a quiet “night, Captain,” leaving her alone in the library, thoughts swirling round her mind.

She wakes up with blood on her hands, Micks and Rays and Wallys. But this time, it's Wally she can't shake from her mind - Wally, who had only joined the team a few  weeks ago, who was always ready with a quick smile and an easy laugh. Wally, who was so, so innocent in comparison to the rest of them. Wally, who she had thrown into the console with no regard for his safety - it was lucky she hadn't broken his back.

She finds him eventually, in Zari's room -  Both of them are on the bed, engrossed in a video game, oblivious to her presence until she flops down onto the bed between them, sinking back into the numerous pillows and blankets Zari had piled onto her bed.

Wally nudges her shoulder in greeting and Zari flashes her a quick smile, but other than that neither of them comment on her presence. It's refreshing, to just sit here between them and listen to them banter back and forth, laughing and smiling and teasing one another. She doesn't feel the need to  be  anyone, she doesn't need to pretend or keep up a facade, because neither of them are studying her or waiting for her to break, they're just having fun.

But like all the good things in her life, it ends, and after Zari soundly beats Wally with a resounding grin she pauses the game, both of them turning expectantly to Sara, waiting for her to speak. She focuses on Wally first, nudging his shoulder gently and starting hesitantly “Is your back okay?”

He rolls his eyes affectionately and nudges her back, saying “I'm fine, Sara, stop worrying.”

She bites her lip, looking him up and down, and she  knows  he sees how she notices the way he's avoiding leaning on his left side, jaw tensing every time he shifts his position. But she can also see the familiar spark of defiance in his eyes, daring her to question him, so she eventually gives him a slow nod in response. She clears her throat quietly. “You...you seem to fit in well here. You seem to get along great with everyone, and… I'm glad.”

Wally flashes her a small smile, but then frowns slightly as he realises  why  she’s saying what she is. “Sara, you don't have to apologise for anything.”

“No,” she agrees, hating that the words sound uncertain as they come out of her mouth. “I just - I need to make sure - “ She cuts herself off, groaning slightly and running a hand through her hair in frustration.

Wally nudges her side slightly, finishing “You want to make sure none of us actually believe what Mallus told us. But we don't, Sara, and you still don't need to apologize.”

She lets out a breath of air which, in any other situation, could count as a laugh. “okay, I get the message. But… I just want you to know that I’m glad you've found your place on this team, because… it seems like you're happy here.”

Wally doesn't reply, but the lopsided smile that returns to his face says it all, and she manages to give him a small smile in return before turning to face Zari.

Zari, who had somehow become an irreplaceable part of this team in only a matter of weeks. Zari, who was still mourning the loss of her home and family - who would  always  be mourning the loss off her family, but who had had to deal with this grief over and over again.

It was a feeling she knew well, but she (Mallus) had still plunged the knife where she knew it would hurt the most and twisted until it brought Zari to tears, and there was no way to apologise for that, nothing she could say to make things better. If it had been her, and Laurel…

She doesn't even want to think about it. Seeing Laurel last year when she had the spear of destiny was hard enough, but seeing her now and knowing her words weren't her own...It would break her. Zari was strong, and Zari seemed okay, but what she had done...

There was no forgiveness for that.

Out of everyone on the team, it was Zari who deserved the biggest apology, but somehow now she had the chance her heart was pounding in her chest, her palms sweaty and her throat raw as she tried to find  something  to say. Zari should get at least that, but somehow Sara still couldn’t manage it, eventually breaking eye contact and looking down at the bed, fingers picking at a loose thread at the hem of a thick blanket as she fought back tears. Zari and Wally were the two newest team members, and neither of them needed to see her break; she was the captain, she was supposed to be strong and firm and unwavering, not broken and defeated and unable to formulate a coherent sentence.

She doesn't know how much time passes before she feels a warm hand slide into her own, soft skin brushing against hers as Zari gives her hand a soft squeeze, prompting her to finally look up. “It's alright, Sara,” she says, her voice too quiet for Wally to hear.

Sara shakes her head, trying desperately to swallow the lump in her throat. “It’s  not.  If...if it'd been Laurel I -"

“No, Sara,” Zari interrupts, giving her hand another squeeze. It was so unlike the Zari she knew that it stopped her in her tracks, her eyes flickering back up to meet Zari's as she added “Listen to me. I’m not saying it's  good  or  okay , because it's not, and I'm not sure it'll ever be. And I know you understand that. But it's  alright . We got rid of Mallus, we got you back, and nothing happened that can't be repaired. And...honestly, I’m not ready to talk about it, but I know that when I am you'll be there.”

Sara can feel the tears starting to collect in her eyes once again, but she blinks them away before anyone can see, determined to keep her walls from crumbling. Neither Wally or Zari comment on her silence, but Zari doesn't let go of her hand until Sara pulls it away, leaning back against Zari's pillows. She clears her throat before asking quietly “do you mind if I…”

Her words trails off, too unsure to continue, but Zari sees right through her and flashes her a small smile. “Stay as long as you want, Captain.”

Mick is easy. Talking to Mick is always easy, and the strange sort of respect had emerged between them after Snart's death had only made it easier.

When she appears in the doorway to his room with a six pack of beer he snorts at her and gladly takes two, opening one bottle and pressing it into her hand as her gestures for her to join him. She does, and they sit in silence for a while before she turns to face him, eyes finding his in the dimly lit kitchen. “Sorry I tried to kill you.”

Mick’s eyes narrow slightly as he looks at her for a long moment before shrugging and saying “the witch bitch tried to kill me blondie, not you. We went over this.”

She shrugs, biting her lip, momentarily glad for the darkness that can hide her face, although by now she expects Mick knows exactly what she's thinking.

“You know I would've killed you before I let you hurt the team,” he adds, and she's so, so grateful that out of all of the members of the team, Mick is the one who truly knows the darkness within her and  still  chooses to follow her lead. His words aren’t true, and he never would've managed to take her out, but she appreciates it all the same.

(She's glad he didn't try. She, Mick and Ray are the only ones left of Rip’s original team, and she can't lose anyone else, especially not at her own hand.)

Mick nudges her side, accepting her silence as a response and not expecting her to say anything else before he adds “And anyway, I've betrayed the team enough times by now. Only fair you get a go.”

Sara snorts humorlessly but leans slightly closer as she takes a long sip of her beer. And Mick, being Mick, lets her, because they've been on this ship together for so long by now, and there's a bond between them that neither of them is willing to admit to but both of them seem to need. There's something calm and familiar about it all that lets her  relax  for the first time in days, sipping her beer in silence as they sit side by side, watching the world go by.

Ray should be easy to talk to. Ray is  always  easy to talk to. But the cuts and bruises littered across his face as he turns around distract her, and Sara finds herself speechless, choking down her overwhelming guilt as she tries to find something to say. It's like it was with Zari all over again, but worse, because she  knows  she hurt Zari, but at least she couldn't see the evidence of it staring back at her in the form of Ray’s black eye, split lip, and the other bumps and scrapes he'd gained during his fight with her.

His fight with  Mallus.

His quiet “Sara?” finally draws her attention, and she shifts her gaze from the particularly large gash on his forehead to his eyes, which are far too concerned and far too understanding.

And suddenly, she  can't do this.  He deserves an apology - or several - and she needs to check he's okay. But her throat has closed up and it's an effort just to breathe and he's standing there waiting for her to speak and she  can't.

But Ray just waits, until she manages to regain enough control of her voice to say quietly “I was wondering if I could have some more tea?”

It's a distraction, and they both know it, but the way Ray beams at her as he starts to explain the process of making the perfect blend makes it worth it, because even after all they've been through he's still the same nerd she met on a rooftop all those years ago.

But she can't distract him forever, and he knows why she's here, so eventually he pauses to nudge her shoulder gently, saying in a quiet voice “we all forgive you, you know. Not that you need our forgiveness - it was Mallus, not you Sara, and everyone knows that.”

She smiles halfheartedly, swallowing thickly as she nods in response, but she can tell Ray knows she doesn’t quite believe him. He gives her a small smile, saying “You know i’m going to keep saying it until it sinks in.”

She does, and he knows she does, and somehow, that’s enough for now.

With Amaya it's different. Because even though Sara - thankfully - didn't say anything to hurt Amaya, she could still feel the way Amaya’s leg had snapped under her, and she could still hear the sickening crunch of broken bones grinding against one another, and Amaya pained cries.

But Amaya is….Well, Amaya. She's the person Sara knows best on this ship, the person she's spent hours talking to and sparing with and just enjoying each others’ company. She’s Sara's  friend .

(Except friends don't fight each other, friends don't throw each other into walls and break each other's legs.)

And even after facing the rest of the team, Sara can't talk to Amaya - She's too good, too pure, and Sara had just tainted that.  Broken  that. So instead of finding Amaya to check she was okay, Sara finds herself having meals at odd time so she knows they won't overlap with Amaya’s, sticking to solo training instead of sparring, spending more time in her office than alone with the team. She knows they've noticed, and she knows she can't keep this up forever, but right now it seems like the best available option, and she'll deal with the consequences if they come.

When they come.

And, of course, they do.

You’d expect a ship like this to be soundproof, but it seems Gideon has free reign of the controls to play around with, because when Sara wakes up with a gasp, throat hoarse and face wet with tears, she only has a moment to take in the empty space in the bed next to her before Amaya’s kneeling down beside her, smoothing down her hair and running a thumb across her cheek in an attempt to wipe away her tears, murmuring “hey, you’re okay, it’s okay,” as she tries her best to calm Sara down.

Sara blinks away yet more tears, still gasping for breath, hoping Amaya can’t hear how uneven and shaky her breathing actually is. She shudders, trying for a moment to pull away, but Amaya’s hand comes to rest over hers, tracing patterns across her skin until her grip softens and her knuckles are no longer white, and then untangling her fingers from the sheets, and giving her still trembling hand a squeeze.

“You’re okay, Sara,” she murmurs again, and Sara wants to scream in frustration, because everyone keeps telling her that and she  knows  she’s okay, that’s the  point ; She’s okay, but she has no right to be, not when she can still hear the harsh words slipping from her lips, not when she can still feel Amaya’s bones breaking and Mick’s warm blood running over her hands every time she closes her eyes.

Amaya brushes another lock of hair out of Sara’s face, tucking it behind her ear as she asks softly “where’s Ava? I haven’t seen her since…” She trails off, more concern crossing her face as she finishes softly “since the thing with the death totem.”

She’s almost answered her own question, and Sara has nothing to add. Amaya hasn’t seen Ava because she left, because Sara made her go, because Sara is death and destruction and anyone close to her ends up broken or injured (or worse). And suddenly it’s Ava’s blood on her hands, Ava’s bones breaking under her hands, Ava lying in a pool of her own blood on the bridge because of  her . And just as suddenly, Sara’s clutching at her throat, eyes wide and full of tears, because she can’t breathe and she can’t see and every time she blinks she can see Ava’s cold, dead eyes staring back at her, saying  you did this.

You’re a monster .

She’s barely breathing, breath catching in her throat, but when she tries to speak her voice catches and she swallows thickly, desperately trying to regain some semblance of control. Amaya must catch the panicked look in her eye, because she reaches out to run a hand up and down Sara’s arm, reminding her to breathe and embracing her tightly as Sara collapses into her arms, burying her head in Amaya’s shoulder as sobs wrack her body.

“Breathe, Sara,” Amaya murmurs again, one hand finding its way back to Sara’s hair and stroking through it softly as the other hand traces patterns across her back, trying her hardest to fix everything that’s wrong. Sara closes her eyes as her tears fall harder, soaking into Amaya’s pajama shirt, turning the fabric from a pale grey to a much darker colour. It's a good metaphor; she always brings darkness to the things she touches, it’s starting to feel as if she can't escape it.

Some things can’t be fixed.

She doesn’t know how long they stay there, Amaya whispering soft reassurances in her ear as she tries desperately to remember how to breathe. Eventually, she shuffles back slightly, untangling her fingers from where they were tightly gripping Amaya’s t-shirt and wiping the traces of her tears away. She must look like a mess, eyes red and puffy, tear tracks down her cheeks, hair unkempt and tangled, but she’s exhausted and it’s too much effort to care. She looks down at the creases she’s left on Amaya’s shirt, and the wet patch from where her tears had fallen, and bites her lip hard enough to draw blood before letting out a choked “sorry,” hating how small and broken her voice sounds.

She doesn’t even know what she’s apologising for. Hurting the team, hurting Ava, waking Amaya up in the night and then breaking down in front of her...the team deserve a Captain who’s strong and determined and unbreakable, and she’s just...not. Amaya’s hands find her own, giving them a gentle squeeze that doesn’t match the firmness of her voice as she says “No, Sara. No apologies.”

A small, humourless laugh escapes her lips, because Amaya sounds so much like Ray had, and Zari, and Wally, and...well, everyone. And at this point, she knows she should probably start listening to them, because they  are  right and it  was  Mallus, but at the same time… no. Amaya was right, and she couldn’t keep following that train of thought, because it never, ever led anywhere good. “Sorry,” she murmurs, and Amaya raises her eyebrow as if to say  really?  before she realises what she’s said.

Amaya still looks concerned, and Sara hates that she’s the reason for it, but a small part of her is desperately craving some sort of affection and she can’t help the way her breath catches in her throat when Amaya lets go of her hand. She watches as Amaya’s frown deepens as she looks her in the eyes and asks gently “are you okay going back to sleep?”

Sara’s exhausted, but the thought of  sleeping , of closing her eyes and seeing the blood of her friends, her  family  streaked across her hands sends another shot of panic through her, and Amaya must see the way she flinches, but her mind is desperately searching for something -  anything -  she can say to distract Amaya, because she’s not ready to admit that the answer to her question is that no, she’s  not  okay. Not even slightly. Somehow, her thoughts find their way back to Amaya’s previous question, and as she sees Amaya open her mouth to speak she blurts out “Me and Ava broke up.”

The words are too fast, too jumbled, and they leave an acrid taste in her mouth; it’s a harsh reminder that Ava deserves better than the mess that she is, but it doesn’t make the pain any more bearable. For a moment, she thinks Amaya will question her, trying to find out  why  and  how  and  when . And it’s not as if Sara doesn’t know she needs to talk about it, it’s just… she can’t not yet, not when she can already feel her eyes burning with unshed tears, not when Amaya is looking at her like it’s okay if she wants to fall apart, not when her nightmare is still so fresh and vivid every time she closes her eyes.

But Amaya, being Amaya, just places her hand on the bed between them, in case Sara wants to take it, and says with far too much kindness (a kindness she can’t even begin to deserve) “do you  want  to talk about it?”

She doesn’t even manage a response before Amaya’s nodding, having seen the pained expression that crossed her face, saying gently “okay. We don’t have to, not now. It’s okay.”

It’s not, and the conversation’s ending and Amaya sounds like she’s going to leave, but before Sara can work herself into another panic Amaya is tracing her thumb across her knuckles, gently brushing over the few cuts and bruises that still linger there as a reminder of what Sara’s done as she asks quietly “do you want me to stay?”

Sara’s breath leaves her in a rush as a wave of relief washes over her, blinking back yet more tears. Her voice is choked and tearful as she answers “yes,” far to quickly, and she doesn’t even try to mask the desperation in her voice as she adds “please.”

Amaya smiles and nudges her shoulder lightly prompting Sara to shuffle over and lie down on the bed, curling into Amaya’s side it a way that made her heart ache wondering just  how many nights  Sara had woken up like this alone and panicked and uncertain, with no one to talk her down from her nightmares or stay with her until she fell asleep.

It hadn't taken the team long to realise what she was doing, tracking down each one of them one by one and trying to make up for what Mallus had made her say and do. First it had been Nate, admitting that Sara had told him the exact opposite of what she'd said when under the influence of the death totem, then Ray had bumped into her in the kitchen, clearly distracted, and had mentioned his concerns to her after Sara had tried to apologise for hurting him. Then it had been Zari, pulling her aside and telling her about Sara checking up on her and Wally, wondering how much guilt one person could bear before they snapped, and even Mick, when she’d asked, had admitted to having a similar conversation.

So it didn't take a genius to notice that Amaya was the only one left, and part of her was wondering how long it would take before Sara approached her too. But she'd also noticed the way Sara seemed to have adjusted her routine to ensure they were never alone together, as if she was afraid of talking to her friend and didn't want to be given the chance. As if she couldn't bear the idea Amaya might reject her or not want to see her, and was trying to drag it out as long as possible.

But that's no way to live, and as Amaya watches Sara fall asleep again beside her, breathing finally evening out, she brushes Sara's hair out of her face and pulls a blanket over her before lying down next to her, picking up a book from the nightstand. It was almost the morning, and there was no chance of her going back to sleep, but she couldn't bear to leave Sara alone like everyone else in her life seemed to. Besides, it felt as if Sara might need someone to hold onto if her nightmares continued to plague her, and Ava wasn't here, and Amaya had promised to stay.

So she would, and tomorrow they would talk, properly; the team weren't going to let her get away with blaming herself, not ever. Sara had enough going on in her life, and even if they could only take one burden away, it would be a start. It would help.

And that would be enough.