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“Well, that was a disaster.”
Rip Hunter makes the exasperated declaration as he moves to stand from the captain’s chair, fanning his duster jacket out behind himself.
“I dunno,” Kendra says, rising from her seat with a small shrug and a dopey smile. “I thought it was kinda fun.”
Ray lets out a derisive scoff. “Of course you did,” the physicist grumbles. “ Therefore my mistress’ eyes are raven black, her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem, at such who, not born fair, no beauty lack .”
Sara sniggers as Ray quotes the sonnet word for word, the inflection a perfect, lilting iambic pentameter.
“You’re literally Shakespeare’s infamous Dark Lady,” he finishes, arms thrown out in vexation.
Again, Kendra just shrugs, but her smile takes on a decidedly smug air.
“Is no one even slightly concerned that we almost killed the Bard of Avon?” Rip snips.
“I mean, yeah,” Jax replies, sheepish. “But we didn’t.”
“A small miracle, if I do say so myself,” Stein adds.
Suddenly, the team’s banter is interrupted as Gideon’s disembodied voice comes through the speakers on the bridge.
“You’ve asked me to keep you apprised of Mr. Snart’s condition,” the AI announces, not quite a question, the calm, unchanging drone of her voice immediately setting the crew on edge.
While William Shakespeare managed to escape the team’s misadventure through the Elizabethan era relatively unscathed, Len hadn’t been so lucky. A bullet to the gut earned him an emergency trip to the Waverider’s med bay where he’s currently resting under Gideon’s watchful eye.
“What is it, Gideon?” Rip asks, head tilting in a way that doesn’t express concern so much as it does inconvenience.
“Mr. Snart has recently fallen under considerable duress,” the AI replies.
Sara’s eyes immediately go wide. “Is he okay?” she asks, voice strained with worry.
“There is no pressing medical concern,” Gideon says. If at all possible, she almost sound hesitant, unsure. “Rather, Mr. Snart is experiencing a particularly vivid nightmare, causing him a great deal of distress. I believe it would be best for somebody to wake him rather than allow the nightmare to continue.”
Mick quickly moves to a stand. “I’ll do it,” he says, arms crossing over his broad chest.
“That would be unwise, Mr. Rory,” Gideon is quick to interject. “As, currently, Mr. Snart is dreaming that you are forcing him to watch as you kill Mr. Allen.”
A deep, uncomfortable silence descends upon the bridge after Gideon’s announcement. Mick shifts uncomfortably, arms crossing tighter, gaze flicking down to the floor.
It’s Ray who finally breaks the silence. “Mr. Allen,” he repeats, brow furrowing. “Does she mean Barry?”
“Yeah,” Mick replies, throat clearing uncomfortably.
This only causes Ray to frown deeper. “Does he know--”
“That the kid’s The Flash?” Mick finishes. Something in the steel of his glare makes Ray look guiltily down at the floor. “Yeah. He’s known for a while. And I found out during my training with the Time Masters.”
“But why would he care if you went after Barry?” Jax asks, sounding every bit as confused as he looks. “Aren’t The Flash and Captain Cold mortal enemies or whatever?”
Mick just shrugs, but it’s clear from his expression that he knows better than he’s willing to admit. While Jax and Stein still don’t seem to get it - and Rip doesn’t seem to care - Ray, Kendra, and Sara do. Ray and Kendra swap awkward looks between each other and the floor, but Sara meets the arsonist’s eyes and the two share a knowing look.
“Perhaps Miss Lance should be the one to assist Mr. Snart,” Gideon offers, steering the group back to the matter at hand. “They have built up a quite intimate rapport since coming aboard the Waverider.”
“Intimate,” Jax squeaks, looking over at Sara with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You mean you and Snart are?”
He lets the question trail off, opting to make a series of bumbling, suggestive hand gestures instead that have Sara devolving into a fit of giggles.
“Not that kind of intimate, Jax,” the blonde says. Then, she looks back over at Mick and smiles, tight-lipped. “I’ll go make sure he’s okay.”
Mick nods once, barely discernible, before Sara turns and exits the bridge, making her way through the halls of the time ship to the infirmary.
Len is laid up on the sleek, futuristic bed in the center of the med bay. A thick sheen of sweat covers his forehead, individual beads clearly discernable around his hairline and temples. His face is pinched, displaying obvious signs of pain and worry.
Sara places a gentle hand on Len’s forearm and shakes, trying to rouse him as peaceably as she can. He still jolts awake under her touch, groaning in pain as the motion disturbs the wound on his abdomen.
“Hey, hey,” Sara says quietly, leaning down to meet the frightened man’s eyes. “You’re okay. It’s just me.”
“Sara?” Len asks groggily, still trying to collect his bearings.
Sara sighs. “Yeah, Len, it’s me,” she whispers.
Len blinks several times in quick succession, trying to clear his head. Finally, he seems to come back to himself, regaining his composure. “What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Gideon said you were having a nightmare,” Sara replies. She moves to sit in the chair at Len’s bedside as the older man huffs.
“Snitch,” Len mutters. Then, he turns to examine Sara’s expression carefully as he asks his next question. “Did she tell you what it was about?”
Sara smiles, a little sadly. “Yeah,” she says. “Barry. That Mick was killing him, in front of you.”
Len grimaces. “Did Mick hear?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Sara replies. “He wanted to come wake you himself, but our friendly AI quickly informed him of why that wouldn’t be such a good idea.”
Len sighs, head shaking. “Damn it,” he spits.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Sara says. “Mick’s gotta know, after everything that happened, all the threats he made, it’s gonna take some time for you to be okay with it all.”
To that, Len says nothing, just shrugs and stares down at his hands where they’re folded across his lap.
The silence stretches on for what feels like forever. Finally, Sara breaks it. “You know how,” she begins. “Every time we nearly destroy the timeline, like we did today, when we get back to the bridge, I always ask Gideon to check on my family, my friends from Team Arrow, back in 2016?”
“Yeah,” Len replies, looking up at the blonde and raising an eyebrow curiously. “What about it?”
“Well,” Sara continues. “What you probably don’t know - what I don’t want anyone to know - is that, when I’m finally alone, I have Gideon check in on Nyssa, too.”
The younger woman sighs and leans back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. “It’s not even always because we did something wrong,” she adds. “Sometimes it’s just because I miss her. Want to know that she’s okay.”
Len looks over at Sara, brow furrowed, eyes sharp and calculating. “And what does this fascinating anecdote about your lingering feelings for your former lover have to with my situation, exactly?” he asks, words somehow both clipped and drawled out at once.
“I think you know,” Sara replies softly, giving the older man a meaningful look.
Len says nothing, but he holds her gaze unwaveringly, which is as much of an admission as the blonde knows she’s going to get.
“You should go see him,” Sara says eventually. “When the mission’s over. You’re not the same guy you were when you walked onto this ship. Maybe he’ll be able to see the good in you.”
Len lets out a dry, contemptuous chuckle at that, and Sara’s brows draw together. “What?” she asks, intrigued, almost amused.
“He actually said that to me once,” Len admits, voice quiet. “After what happened with my father.”
The pair have briefly discussed Len’s history with his father, what he did to Lisa after being released from prison, what Len did to him in return. The older man never goes into much detail, but Sara knows it’s still more sharing than he’s likely to do with anyone else.
“He came to visit me at Iron Heights,” Len continues. “Not The Flash. Barry Allen. Stupid, earnest kid with all these ideas about redemption and change. He said there was good in me.”
Gently, Sara places her hand on Len’s wrist as she stands from her chair. “He was right,” she says softly, thumb stroking across the back of Len’s hand.
Pulling back, Sara straightens and gives Len a small, warm smile. “I’ll leave you to get some rest.”
Len nods. “Sure,” he says. Then, he swallows thickly and looks up to meet the younger woman’s eyes. “Thank you, Sara.”
“Anytime,” Sara replies.
When Sara exits the med bay, she knows she should leave, should give Len his privacy. She tells herself it’s out of concern, but really, it’s pure curiosity that has her lingering by the doorway until she hears Len call out to the empty room.
“Hey, Gideon,” he says. “Check on Barry Allen for me, would you? In 2016?”
“Barry Allen is currently engaged in a months-long fight against rival speedster Zoom,” Gideon replies.
Sara hears Len sigh. “I know that, Gideon,” he says. “I mean, is he okay?”
“He is experiencing a heightened level of emotional distress,” the AI announces. “But, physically speaking, Mr. Allen is, I believe, what one would describe as okay .”
The bed creaks as Len shifts his weight atop it. “Thank you, Gideon,” he says.
“Of course, Mr. Snart,” Gideon replies.
Sara knows she’s overstayed her welcome, knows she’s eavesdropped on something she shouldn’t have, so she turns quickly on her heels and flees down the hallway, silent and stealthy, just as all her years of training with the League of Assassins taught her.
Maybe she’ll ask Gideon to check in on Nyssa, too. Just to be safe.