AN: Part 2 of 2! Sorry to anyone waiting for this, as it took me longer than I thought. And this is where I thank Tavyn, as usual – this wouldn't be what it was without her.

XXXXXX

Sara's trying to convince herself that she'll be fine for the rest of the night, even if she doesn't quite believe it.

"Let's get going, Lance!" Leonard claps loudly next to her, startling her from her thoughts. "I don't have all night. Well, I do have all night, but I'd rather not spend it out here waiting for the ship to finally knock me unconscious. Plus, look at the company I'd have to keep."

Rip's glare toward their wayward thief is equal parts disapproval and exasperation, but he doesn't comment.

Sara turns to Leonard, assessing his possible motives for staying behind. "Are you…waiting for me?"

"What other Lance could I be talking to? You're the only one onboard, right?" His voice drops when he murmurs, "Luckily for me."

"What's wrong with my family, Leonard?" she demands, sounding much more ominous than she actually feels. He's spent time with her parents, Laurel, and other relatives many times over the past year, generally when their team is visiting home and he claims he has nothing better to do – which obviously means that he loves to randomly show up at her house and her family's events as if he belongs there.

"Alright," he relents, "I'll admit that your mother is lovely and quite charming when she wants to be. But your father's insane – which actually makes him a perfect match for your step-mother. Oh, and your sister is downright terrifying."

"Which one, Laurel or my step-sister?" She's curious about his genuine opinion when he's not joking. The ship jerks sharply to one side and Leonard grabs her arm, keeping her steady.

"Does it matter? Either of them could ruin my life if they wanted. In much different ways."

"Are they more terrifying than me?"

"Obviously! With you I know the animosity's an act."

"Is it?" She tries to sound threatening, but he (infuriatingly) only laughs.

"Please, we both know there's no real danger of you shanking me in my sleep, like Laurel's heavily implied she'd have no problem doing. Or erasing my electronic identity from existence forever – that was Felicity."

"What have you been doing that would warrant that kind of retaliation?"

"Nothing!" he argues, raising his voice both because he's affronted and because the rumbling around the ship is getting louder. "I'm just my normal self and they seem to –"

"I don't mean to interrupt," Kendra blatantly interrupts, "but if you're acting like your 'normal' self around her family, then it's pretty obvious what they think."

When Leonard and Sara only seem more confused, Kendra sighs heavily and looks over at Rip. For the first time tonight, their captain looks highly entertained and gestures for Kendra to keep talking, since he has no intention of helping her.

"What?" Sara insists.

Kendra makes sure to speak clearly and concisely so the two of them understand (though it might still be a lost cause): "They. Think. You're. Together."

Sara and Leonard look at each other, then at Kendra, then back at each other – and start laughing.

"No, there's no way that…" Len slowly trails off, laughter fading.

"Yeah, they can't possibly…" Sara thinks about it, really thinks about it. He's shown up to her house at least a half dozen times now. Or has it been more than that? Her visits home all kind of blend together, and besides that, she and Leonard are only ever friendly toward each other. Or are they too friendly? She turns to Len, stepping into his personal space to point at him accusingly. "This is all your fault!"

He easily ignores her, seemingly lost in thought. "Wait…this might explain why your father is always vaguely threatening to kill me. But still, I don't know why anyone would think we're dating –"

"Because you are!" Kendra almost yells.

Sara puts her hands on her hips. "I think we'd know."

"Yeah, we all thought you'd know by now, too," Rip says, wryly.

"You're always with each other," Kendra says, shooting the captain a quelling look.

"Not…always," Leonard insists. "I mean, is it my fault that she follows me around?" He pretends not to hear Sara's huff of annoyance.

"You wish," she throws back, "it's more that I can't get rid of you unless I undertake evasive maneuvers."

The storms have subsided somewhat, but she can hear them raging in the distance and moves toward the wall by Rip's office in case she'll need it for support.

Leonard's not buying her assertion that other people's wrong assumptions are mostly his fault. "We sleep in separate rooms at night," he says, as if that proves his point that they're not a couple. "Despite how many times I've told Sara I could give her the best night of her life."

"Oh please," she scoffs, unwilling to let him get away with such a claim, "if anyone would be having the best night of their life, it'd be you thanks to me!"

When Rip and Kendra just stare at them, Leonard replays their conversation. "This kind of thing doesn't help our case, does it?"

"This is what we're talking about," Kendra confirms, trying to sound stern, but she's smiling too much for it to work.

"That's just the way we are," Leonard explains, glancing at Sara for confirmation, but her face remains frustratingly blank as she leans back against the wall. "It's all in good fun."

"Is that right?" Kendra asks. "Then why don't you ever joke that way with me?"

"Do you want me to?" He's starting to sound smug. "Is that what this is about?"

Rip mutters something mostly unintelligible but Sara thinks she hears the words 'useless' and 'maddening' in there.

"Never mind," Kendra sighs, deciding to give up. "We're all wrong. You're obviously just weirdly close friends."

Leonard isn't sure he's happy with that summation, either.

"Yes, we're friends," Sara emphasizes, wondering why she sounds slightly bitter. She turns to Leonard, but he's not looking at her. "Right?"

"Are you asking me?" he demands, and the sudden intensity in his tone startles her.

"No, I'm –" The lights go out completely when the ship lurches. Luckily, the force of it is such that it pushes her further back into the wall behind her – not so luckily for Leonard, he has nothing to hold onto and she knows she's directly in his path. She quickly puts her arms up and waits for him to crash into her, but it never happens. The lights return and she sees that he was able to stop their collision by throwing his hands out to either side of her on the wall.

She makes an effort to relax. "That would have hurt."

He leans closer to her for the briefest of moments. "I told you it wasn't safe out here."

"I don't know," she says, glancing up at him. "It doesn't seem so bad at the moment."

He's about to push himself away from the wall (and her), but pauses to search her eyes. "Is that right?"

In answer, she smiles at him, even though she knows it's probably too subdued to convey what she intends; it's one of those rare times that he doesn't smile back.

"Oh yes, we're all seeing things." Kendra's voice causes them to break apart. "It's definitely us."

Len and Sara move away from each other, exchanging a look and deciding by mutual silent agreement that it's easier to leave the bridge than argue with Kendra any further. They start down the corridor, heading for their rooms.

"All that stuff about the two of us…" Sara hesitates, "do you think there's a chance Kendra's right? That our families think we're a couple?"

"Maybe, but who cares?" He shrugs, though he still sounds…off to her. "It's not anyone's business, and besides, it's not like they need an excuse to give us a hard time. We should just forget it."

That's the thing, though – she doesn't know if she wants to forget it. But he probably does if he'd suggested it…right?

"You okay?" he asks, when they reach the hallway that houses their rooms.

"Sure," she tells him, inwardly wincing at the forced cheerfulness she hears in her voice. "I'm fine. Just tired. And I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight."

"You could get drunk with Mick and Jax," he suggests, trying not to smile.

"Yes, being drunk will surely help my mental state. And my reflexes."

"Always does for me," he quips, as they stop outside their quarters.

"I suppose if I'm blacked out then I won't remember any of this in the morning," she says. It's a tempting thought.

"And what a shame that would be," he replies, as they listen to an extremely loud crack of thunder. Time waves slamming into each other – it's as awe-inducing as it is terrifying.

As the sound recedes, she bids him good night and turns to her room. When the doors slide open, she pauses in the doorway, studying the dim interior; all she can see is the cabin on the Queen's Gambit.

The place where she should have died.

And for all intents and purposes, she had died, hadn't she? The Sara Lance who'd returned from that trip was certainly not the Sara Lance who'd left with Oliver Queen.

"What is it?" Len asks, stepping up behind her shoulder and looking into the empty room.

"Nothing," she says, shaking off the feeling and forcing herself to take a step forward. She wonders, during her time on the Waverider, if she's ever wanted to be alone less than she does right now.

Leonard must be putting his psychic skills to good use tonight. "I know I mentioned it earlier, but the offer always stands that you can spend the night with me, Lance."

She turns around to face him, hoping her look contains enough censure. (It might not, since his idea is so appealing.) "That's very generous of you."

"Isn't it?" he asks, in a self-congratulatory manner. "Really, I've been telling you this from day one. It would save space and let Rip turn your room into a second gym or something."

"I'm surprised you don't want to turn it into your own personal lounge."

His eyes practically light up as he considers the possibilities. "That's even better, we should collaborate on ideas more; look at the things we come up with! Sometimes I think we should be the ones running this ship."

"If you were in charge of anything around here, you'd wreck it within three days."

"Yeah," he leans into her personal space, grinning, "but think of the fun we'd have until then."

She shakes her head, pushing him back, and feels a twinge in her arm that she doesn't think much of until –

"You going to bandage that?"

She automatically glances down to see the area around her right elbow is covered with some kind of – wait, that's blood. She looks closer, realizing some of the skin has scraped away, but thankfully it's not bleeding too badly. She hadn't even felt it, but now it's starting to sting. She replays the events of the night and realizes it must have happened when she fell to the floor on the bridge.

Leonard gestures to his room. "Come on in, it's your lucky night. I recently stole a lot of supplies from the Med Bay because I was sick of going there for every injury."

She follows him into his room, stopping just inside the doors to watch as he opens one of the cupboards and then turns around with a literal armful of first aid supplies – rolls of bandages, rubbing alcohol, first aid creams, and a variety of other boxes and bottles. "Leonard, it's not 'stealing' if you're allowed to take whatever you want."

"Calling it 'stealing' makes me feel better about my life choices," he explains as he drops everything onto his bed and takes a seat on the edge of it. "Have your pick."

"What'd you do, empty every drawer?"

"Rip can afford to restock. We use Gideon's fancy healing lasers a lot anyways. We can go do that right now if you'd prefer?"

She strongly considers it until the rolling of the ship reminds her that they're in the midst of a batch of treacherous and unforgiving storms. "No, that's fine. I don't need any lasers pointed at me when the ship suddenly starts rocking."

Instead of replying, Len tells Gideon to lock the doors and Sara has a second to wonder about his sudden order before the ship's movement causes her to fall back against those doors and the lock prevents them from opening automatically. She winces as she hits her already injured elbow against the metal. She's beginning to wonder what shape she's going to be in by the time the night is over.

"You aren't actually psychic, are you?" she asks him, warily.

"What?"

"Nothing," she mumbles. "Never mind."

"Why don't you go wash that?"

"Let's see if I can get to the bathroom without suffering a concussion," she says, annoyed, as she makes her way across the room. At least the storm cooperates for the moment, leaving them in peace long enough that she's able to clean the scrape on her arm.

Unfortunately, she realizes she's jinxed herself with her optimistic thoughts when the ship jolts and tips at an odd angle and she goes tumbling into the open shower stall. The shower door slams shut behind her. "Son of a bitch!"

Leonard steps into the room. "What's all the banging around in here?" He looks over to find her behind the clear door of the shower. "Most people take their clothes off first, but hey, to each their own. I guess."

She just glares at him through the door.

"Hey," he begins, "do you think it's the best idea to take a shower when the ship's –"

She kicks open the stall door and he has to jump back so that she doesn't take him out in the process. "Obviously, I didn't come in here on purpose." She stalks past him and out into the bedroom, unreasonably tired, irritated, and in pain. And that's on top of her other worries about the storm and her horrifying flashbacks to her time on the Gambit.

"You've done stranger things," he accuses as he follows her.

"Name one," she snaps, falling back onto the bed.

"You turn me down every time I proposition you."

She really doesn't want to smile (on principle) but she can't help it. "That's for your benefit. You'd never be the same."

"I wish you'd let me be the judge of that."

She means to answer him, but something's been nudging at the corner of her mind since she stepped into his room, and she finally realizes what it is. "What the hell did you do in here? Is that a fridge?"

"What?" Len glances over, as if just noticing the appliance situated between newly built-in bookshelves.

"The bed's different, too! It wasn't like this a week ago." She leans up a little on her uninjured arm to get a better look around. The bed's facing the same direction as hers (length-wise along the wall), but it stretches out much further in width than hers does. It's apparently been redesigned to accommodate more than one person comfortably.

"Oh, right," he says. "I had some upgrades performed when we were docked in 2025."

"Does Rip know about these upgrades?"

Len settles himself next to her on the bed and grabs a box from the pile of medical supplies. "Considering that he was out with the rest of you at the time? No. But he won't care since it drastically increases the resale value of this thing…or at least that's what I'm going to claim if he ever asks."

"Your bed is much larger than it originally was," she points out, as if he isn't aware of what he's changed in his own room.

He looks at her over the top of the bandage he's tearing open. "I like to sprawl."

"Uh huh. And I'm sure it's just a coincidence that this bed can now sleep three…or four?"

"Four?" He sounds incredibly pleased at that. "You have a very flattering opinion of me, Lance."

"'Flattering' isn't the word I'd use," she says, dryly.

"Well, I'd be hard-pressed to think of another."

She wouldn't, but she's distracted from offering suggestions when he reaches for her arm and she has to hold it up for him to examine. She flinches when he presses his fingers to either side of the abrasion, more in anticipation of pain than any pain itself, and he frowns at her.

"Sorry," she mutters.

"Don't apologize to me." He sifts through the rest of the supplies for who knows what.

She wonders how he managed to change the room so drastically without anyone noticing. "I know you didn't do this yourself, so what, you just invited a random crew of people onboard to renovate?"

"You say that like it's impossible." He liberally pours rubbing alcohol on her injury and she wrenches her arm away in pain. "Yeah, that might hurt."

"Little late," she seethes.

"Want to hit me?"

"Always."

"Go ahead if it'll make you feel better," he offers, and then presses a kiss to the unmarred skin of her arm, right next to where she's scraped it. The move surprises her enough that she forgets to breathe for a moment. "It's easier if you're not anticipating the pain," he adds, quiet enough that she almost doesn't hear him.

"It's fine," she manages to say, watching as he takes the gauze bandage he's just opened and wraps it around her arm before securing it with medical tape. It's a good call, because any size band-aid would probably just fall off due to the necessity of bending her arm. "You don't have to take care of me. I can do it myself."

"I know," he tells her, gathering up all the leftover supplies and tossing them into a cabinet next to the bed, making sure to shut it firmly so the shaking of the ship doesn't end up dislodging anything.

"So why are you always the first in line to help me?" she asks, as if some part of her, deep down, doesn't already know the answer.

"Because I…" he stops, then continues, "I want to."

"Okay," she accepts, wondering what he might have said if he hadn't censored himself. She looks to the door, thinking she should probably leave. She gets as far as putting her legs over the side of the bed when thunder cracks loudly around them and she jumps slightly – it's enough for him to notice.

He puts his hand on her arm, but he isn't holding her there. "As much as I admire your fiercely independent personality traits, tonight they'll inevitably lead to you suffering alone. And you don't have to."

"I'm not suffering," she insists, looking over at him.

His expression betrays his thoughts – he knows she's lying, but he'll never try and force her to stay.

Oddly enough, that's what makes her want to stay. (She wonders if maybe that's what he's been aiming for all along.)

"Alright, I won't leave yet," she gives in. "I'll wait until the storm ends."

"Deal," he says, lying down sort-of diagonally, purposely only leaving room for her between himself and the wall.

She climbs over him with as chastising of a look as she can manage and takes the spot he's left. He merely smiles at her, and if she didn't know better, she'd believe the innocence on his face (but Leonard Snart's not capable of innocent). When the ship mildly shakes again, she realizes, with immense relief, that she can't actually go anywhere. With the wall on one side of her and him on the other, she's no longer at risk for being thrown anywhere, never mind out of bed.

As they lie there in comfortable silence, her thoughts drift to something else she's curious about. "What explanation did you come up with when you were renovating? Did you tell them it's a top secret aircraft? Don't tell me you stole some memory pills to make them forget they were here."

"Nothing so dramatic," he says. He's acquired a bouncy ball from who knows where and is mindlessly throwing it up in the air and catching it, over and over again. "I told them it's a television set."

"Seriously? They bought that?"

"Well, it's far more believable than a time traveling ship, isn't it?"

"I guess. Barely." She looks around. "It doesn't seem like a real set, though. There's no missing wall for the cameras and crew."

"Yeah, well, what contractor is thinking about that? Besides, I'm extremely convincing when I stick to a lie. They also rushed to accommodate me and complete the work in record time – once they heard I was the star, of course."

"You told them you were the star?"

"Who else would it be?"

"There are eight of us on this ship," she reminds him.

"Yeah, and my question stands."

"I'm glad your ego hasn't taken a hit."

He shrugs, as if the answer is self-evident. "You think anyone would watch us for Palmer?"

Sara considers that. "I'm sure he'd have his fans."

"Or Hunter?" He throws the ball too hard and it hits the ceiling, coming back down with equal force. "Please."

"Sorry that not everyone can be as…dynamic as you."

"Ooh, 'dynamic'. Excellent description. Maybe we'll give you a writing credit."

She swats him lightly which probably loses its effect when she uses the motion as an excuse to move closer to his side and then stay there. "I think we're more of an ensemble cast."

"If it makes you feel better, I told them I had a gorgeous co-star."

Sara can't help smiling at that. "Did you now?"

"She was recently discovered while serving coffee in Central City. A mere barista, she had no idea how drastically her life was about to change when –"

She grabs the ball mid-air before he can catch it. "Okay, very funny. I still can't believe you'd consider yourself the star…though maybe I should know better by now."

He holds his hand out in silent request, but instead of giving it to him, she throws the ball back up for him to catch on the way down. They start tossing it back and forth to each other that way, and she almost loses it when the ship shudders and changes positions when the ball is in mid-air – Leonard quickly sits up to catch it before it can end up across the room.

"You have a point about there being eight of us," he says. "That's probably too many. We'd have to narrow the focus. I bet people would like watching me and Mick." The more he thinks about it, the more he likes it. "Yeah…just the two of us, setting fires, freezing people, planning heists – that'd be an excellent show."

Of course he'd suggest that. "The Adventures of Captain Cold and Heatwave?"

He lies back down, giving her a moment to automatically settle against his side again. "Now you're thinking like a writer."

She can't hide her skepticism. "I'm pretty sure a show about the two of you would go off the rails pretty quickly."

"Well, obviously – that's why it'd be so great! Don't you know anything about network TV, Lance? It's all about thrilling, high-stakes entertainment."

"I haven't had much time to watch TV the past year…or ten."

"Why, you been busy or something?" he asks, archly.

She tries to sound scolding, but she's laughing when she mumbles into his shoulder, "Or something."

"Here's all you need to know: the crazier your show, the better. Gotta lure in those viewers."

"Alright, then I revise my opinion – you and Mick would bring just the right level of insanity. It'd definitely be a hit."

He thinks about the possibilities because he honestly can't imagine any show (or version of his life, real or pretend) without her in it. "You could join as our sidekick."

She levers herself up to lean over him and warn, "I'm no one's sidekick."

He gazes up at her, as if considering. "How about love interest?"

"What, for both of you?"

He pauses momentarily. "First, I love that you are the one who'd come up with such an idea. Second, I'm too selfish for that to ever work."

"Aw, Leonard," she teases, "that's sweet that you wouldn't want to share me."

"Not you," he clarifies, "Mick." He enjoys the way her face changes, playful smile giving way to confusion and dismay before she heaves a long-suffering sigh, as if no one has to deal with what she does when it comes to him.

She's not sure where to begin. "You two…I don't even know."

"I can't have you taking his time away from me," he replies, and perhaps the most humorous part to her is the sincerity in his voice. (As if she'd ever be able to get in the way of the bond they share.)

"I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Good," he says succinctly, as she rolls her eyes. "And you should reconsider the sidekick offer, because if you don't take it, there are plenty of others on this ship who'd jump at the chance. I bet Ray would be interested; he's into technology and all that jazz, he could be like the Q to my James Bond."

She laughs so hard at his suggestion that her next words are barely coherent. "Wait, now you're James Bond?"

"If the role fits…who am I to say otherwise?"

Sometimes she honestly can't tell if he's being serious or trying to get a reaction out of her (and bizarrely enough, she actually thinks that this time he's serious). "There's no way Ray would want to be your sidekick."

"I beg to differ. Let's ask." Len whips the ball against the wall that his room shares with Ray's, expertly getting it to bounce right back into his hands. "Hey, Palmer, you awake in there? Get in here!"

Len tells Gideon to unlock the doors and ten seconds later they open to reveal Ray. He's looking far too cheerful and eager for 2:36 am. He stops short near the door when he sees the two of them in bed together and Sara sits up, grabbing Len's arm to force him to do the same.

"Hey guys," Ray greets them. "What's going on in here? Slumber party?"

"Nostalgic for the days of your youth, Raymond?"

The attempt at an insult doesn't bother Ray. "Not that I'm admitting anything, but I could expertly braid your hair if you wanted, Sara."

She actually doesn't doubt it. "I just might take you up on that."

Leonard's look to her merely says, Of course you would.

Ray's noticed the changes to Leonard's room. "Hey, why is your bed so much bigger than mine?"

"Palmer –"

Ray jumps on the end of it, the movement causing Leonard and Sara to almost tip over. "You could fit like four or five people on this!"

"Right?" Sara asks, nudging Leonard to slide over to give Ray more room, "I told him it was way too big. Who needs this much space?"

The two of them start talking about how Leonard's become used to a 'life of excess' which they attribute to his time living as a well-to-do thief. In his efforts to defend himself, Leonard completely forgets why he called Ray into the room. Sara and Ray take great delight in teaming up to tear his arguments apart, so he eventually gives up in favor of lying back down.

He can't help letting his eyes close; if he pretends hard enough, he can almost believe the movement of the ship is intentionally meant to lull them to sleep – things have quieted down a lot from the level they were at earlier tonight.

The universe must hear that thought and decide to prove him wrong, since the now-familiar tremors return, building in intensity enough that Ray and Sara stop talking for a moment. Since Len's listening closely, he notices the hitch in Sara's breathing that indicates she's started consciously regulating it to try and remain calm. He doesn't have to look to recall that she's sitting with her back to him, leaning with her hands on the bed behind her. He reaches out to put his hand on one of hers in quiet reassurance. When her breathing regains its normal rhythm, he lets himself relax, too.

When he opens his eyes again to take in the scene before him, he blinks in disbelief. Is Palmer actually braiding her hair?

His face must betray his confusion, since Sara smiles at him as Ray ties off the end of a double French braid. "Did you fall asleep? You didn't miss much, Ray just braided my hair in less than fifteen minutes."

Had he fallen asleep right next to them? There are no words to describe how horrifying that fact (or well, any of this) is to him. Strangely, the only question he thinks to ask Ray is, "Do you carry elastics around with you?"

Ray shrugs, which isn't an answer. "Do you not?"

Leonard wonders if he's actually dreaming and pinches the back of his hand. "Not usually, no."

"I'm still impressed by what you've done in here," Ray tells him. "I was just saying to Sara that we should call in the others, see how many people we can fit on –"

"Palmer!" Leonard raises his voice to get the other man's attention – he's just remembered (thankfully) why he wanted to talk to Ray in the first place. "I have a proposition for you."

Ray's expression freezes somewhere between cautiously flattered and utterly shocked. "Wow, guys. I mean, I'm so humbled that you would ask, but I don't think –"

"What?" Len's confused. He hasn't asked him anything yet…has he? He's actually disoriented enough that he has to think back to be sure.

Sara momentarily debates intervening before deciding to let this play out to its natural, hilarious conclusion.

Ray's subtly inching back toward the edge of the bed, as if he thinks getting up too quickly will unnecessarily offend them. "Um, so I love you both, you guys know that right? But I think maybe we all love each other in different kinds of ways. Not that there's anything wrong with that! You know what, I'm going to just…"

Leonard sits up, frowning at him, and Ray instantly stops moving. "Are you having a stroke, Palmer?"

"I can't…look, I respect you guys too much as friends to risk jeopardizing anything that way," Ray's rambling. "Plus, it'd be weird. Don't you think it'd be weird?"

"What's wrong with 'weird'?" Sara can't resist asking, as Ray looks over at her – and is that actual fear in his eyes?

"I think you're weird," Len tells Ray. "And I still don't know what's going on."

"I don't want to get in the middle of your relationship." Ray decides a joke might ease his unbearably building anxiety. "What if she liked me better than you? What then? I'd be responsible for your break-up. I can't have that on my conscience!"

"Relationship? Break-up?" Leonard finally puts together the pieces of what Ray thinks – and what he believes they're asking of him. It distresses Leonard in entirely new ways he'd never thought possible. "No, no, Palmer. Stop talking. Forever."

Sara tamps down on her laughter long enough to reassure Ray, "That's not what he wanted to ask."

Ray's shoulders slump in visible relief. "Great, I was worried – I mean flattered, too! – but also worried."

"No need to worry, Raymond," Leonard reiterates. "You wouldn't even make the list."

The wheels seem to be turning in Ray's head and he suddenly becomes accusing, "Wait a minute, there's a list? And I'm not on it? Am I not good enough for you?"

"There's no list," Sara tells him, shooting Leonard a 'See what you've done?' look.

Ray doesn't believe her. "But he said –"

"Raymond," Leonard talks over him – he has to get out of this conversation before he loses his mind. "My actual question was: when this is all over and we return home, if we sold the rights to this story to be turned into a television show, would you like to be the techno-genius-hacker sidekick?"

Ray's obviously mollified – Sara thinks his eyes couldn't possibly get any brighter than they do in that moment. "Genius? I like the sound of that. I'm guessing I'd get to develop weapons and stuff? Sounds like my input would be crucial."

"Sure," Len easily agrees, "crucial enough that we'll keep you around, but if we need a 'shocking' death during sweeps…I can't make you any promises."

Ray nods, already thinking of story lines he'd like to include. "I'd definitely take a chance on the role – I think I could bring a lot to it. Now, I'm sure I'd get a girlfriend, right?" He slants his gaze at Sara. "Lots of long, cold nights in the lab…a man gets lonely."

"Dream on, Ray," Sara says breezily. "I'm not going to be relegated to the role of anyone's girlfriend. If anything, I'd be the one who gets a new love interest each week."

"Well," Ray allows, "since you're a little full of yourself anyways, I don't know if a job as an actress is the best option for –" He scrambles off the bed when she grabs the bouncy ball Leonard had discarded and launches it in his general direction. He's not fast enough and it hits him squarely on the shoulder.

"Is this any way to treat your fellow cast members?" Ray demands, jumping around over-dramatically in pain.

Leonard loudly whispers, "We'll probably demote her from series regular to part-time."

Sara's offended. "Part-time? You'd be lucky if I agreed to be on your stupid show even once!"

He looks her over. "Keep it up and you'll only be getting non-speaking roles."

"Yeah, make her a background extra," Ray quickly agrees. "That'll teach her."

"It'd be the rest of us that benefited," Len says, thoughtfully. "No more shrill –" When she lunges over to try and attack him, he follows Ray's lead and jumps off the bed to escape her.

"No need to resort to violence," Ray tsks, as if disappointed, and turns to Leonard. "She might be a little too unstable for –"

"Get out!" Sara yells.

Ray takes that as his cue to leave. "Good luck with the rest of your night," he tells Leonard, hint of laughter in his voice, as he exits the room.

Leonard leans against the wall near his bed. "Are you going to rein in your murderous impulses?"

"For you, probably not."

"Eh, I've survived far worse," he jokes, getting back on the bed despite her unwelcoming demeanor. (He must see it as the front it always is…at least when it comes to him.) "Maybe we should try to sleep. By the time we wake up, we should be out of the storms."

She nods in agreement since it's as good an idea as any. Leonard asks Gideon to turn the lights out and when the room plunges into darkness, Sara freezes at the suddenness of it. The dark has never bothered her, in and of itself, but coupled with the storms outside, and the suddenly unstable ship…she's having a few issues with her resurfacing memories.

Blackness. Water rising. She can't breathe. And she's going to die, she's going to die right here, right now, and she's too young, but the world doesn't care about things like 'too young' and –

Sara struggles to sit up at the edge of the bed – it's as difficult as trying to stay above water.

She dimly hears Leonard telling Gideon to turn the lights back on, but it doesn't fix anything. The memories haven't been erased and the storms don't disappear.

She knows his eyes are on her, but he says nothing, and she wonders if he's waiting for her to speak.

Some nights, she's right back there. She often has the same recurring dream: she drowns (torturously slow), there's a short moment of nothingness, and then she's alive again, doomed to repeat the process. The dream (nightmare) will continue on a loop until she can finally force herself awake.

She remembers the water swirling around her, building in the cabin – no, it shouldn't be in the cabin, why is it in the cabin! – and there's no easy way out. Her last option is to hold her breath and sink below the surface of the water, hope she can find a window or doorway to swim through and escape the sinking ship that's trying to take her down with it. She has to venture further into the depths, into nothingness, and it might very well be the end of everything, but she has no choice – the water's going to take her whether she chooses to go or not. And her last thought before she loses consciousness is always, always, 'maybe this is what I deserve.'

"Sometimes I feel like I'm still drowning," she says, unable to keep the words in any longer. (Why is she telling him this? And why can't she stop?) "It's like I never got off that boat."

"Sara." She feels him sit up behind her and she can't look at him.

"I should have died out there."

"Sara," he repeats, more firmly.

"There's no reason that I lived. And then the universe spun back around to correct itself, and it did kill me that time, but I came back. How did I come back? Again?" Now she does turn to face him, wanting, needing to know: "Am I the luckiest person in the world or just…the most cursed?"

Her question shocks him; she can tell by the way he reels back. "You think you're cursed?"

"I think I'm living on time that doesn't belong to me."

When he speaks again, his voice is low and fierce. "I'm about as far from religious as you can get, Lance, but in my opinion, the fact that you're alive and not at the bottom of the ocean – or in the ground in Star City – is because you're supposed to be here. There's a reason. A hundred reasons."

She shakes her head slightly, too caught up in her past fears and doubts – too caught in the worry that the world just might be biding its time before it ends her once and for all. "Like what?"

He doesn't even have to think about it. "How about every stranger you've saved, or every person that loves you, or every day that you get here with us? How can you really be so unsure of your worth to the world? To us?"

She's awed, not only that he thinks that of her, but that he's so easily able to put it into words for her. "I could say the same about you a lot of the time," she returns. "You never seem to truly recognize your worth."

When he touches her shoulder, the pressure is more insistent than before; she acquiesces to the silent request, lying back down in the spot she'd just vacated. "We can't do this without you," he swears.

"Yes, you –"

"No, I can't." The lights go out again and this time they don't come back on.

"You can't?" she echoes, emphasis letting him realize how his wording has changed. She focuses on his presence next to her so she doesn't have to think about the unnatural darkness or churning water or how close she'd come (more than once) to dying before she'd truly had a chance to live. She might have missed this…him. And the thought causes such sudden agony that she blindly reaches out for him, finding his arm, and he responds by pulling her closer.

"Let me rephrase," he says, "I wouldn't want to keep doing this without you."

"But you would," she says, insistent. "Tell me you would keep going if I weren't here."

She hears him sigh before he finally replies, "Fine. But you better never even think about making me do it."

"Same to you," she responds, quietly. That's something she's never going to think about, if she can help it.

They're silent for a few moments, lying in the dark, until he murmurs, "I know what you're going through."

"How?" It's a simple question, but she wants an answer. Had he read the emotions on her face? Had he researched her life extensively? Had he –

"I've lived my share of misery, too," he whispers, and for some reason the quiet truth of his words makes her want to cry. She manages not to…but it's a close thing.

She's beginning to think that maybe… "Leonard, is it possible that Kendra was right? What if, this whole time, we've been –" Suddenly, it feels like the floor drops out from underneath them, as if the ship is falling into a black hole, and they're suspended in mid-air for a half-second before landing back on the bed. The slight tilting of the ship means that she ends up pressed against the wall behind her and Leonard lands half on top of her.

"That worked out perfectly," he says, and though she can't see him in the dark, she can hear that he's smirking at her.

"If space and the universe and temporal storms are somehow on your side –"

"Not my side," he corrects her, "our side. And for once, I don't care that this will prove them right."

He kisses her before she can ask what he means. Oh. Of course. It's somehow both a surprise and not. She should have seen it coming, and yet at the same time, she'd had no idea (or told herself she'd had no idea?) that this was anything approaching a real possibility. Now that she suddenly has more, she has no idea how they've gone without this all along. What have they been doing wasting so much time? Especially when they spend their days taking the kinds of risks that mean more time is never a guarantee?

She kisses him back, letting the waves of emotion wash over her – passion and need and desire, and it's both brand new and comfortably familiar. In the depths of that feeling from him, there's a hint of something more, like he's holding back just enough to try and keep her from seeing…

She moves to kiss his neck and then mouths 'I love you, too' against his skin. When he freezes against her, she takes it as confirmation that he recognized the words.

The lights return and even though they're dim, they both blink at the suddenness of it.

He doesn't move. "You…"

"It's okay," she says. "I already know. You don't have to –"

"Iloveyou," he says, the rush of it turning the sentiment into one word. After a few seconds (maybe he's waiting to see if the world ends?) he says it again, slower this time: "I love you."

Kendra and Rip were right. Her family was (apparently) right. Maybe everyone they knew had thought the same and they were all right. For the first time, she allows herself to truly feel what she wants to without any excuses to explain it away.

With that knowledge, though, comes an entirely new set of worries. "Len…what's to keep this from turning into a disaster?" (Like nearly every other relationship that both of them have seen over the course of their lives, all of them following the same inevitable pattern of forming from an initial spark that eventually burns out or goes up in flames.)

"We won't let it," he tells her calmly.

"You think it's that simple?"

"With us?" He searches her eyes, thoughtfully. "No, probably not. But I don't care – if we become a disaster, so be it."

"That's your solution?"

"I'd rather fall apart with you than stay in one piece on my own."

"That's twisted, but weirdly romantic."

He leans closer to whisper, "And no matter what happens to us, I'm not letting you go – not ever."

"You sound borderline crazy right now," she warns, but she can't stop smiling.

"Only borderline?" He sounds thoughtful. "I'll have to work on my tone so that no one has any doubts that I've gone fully over the edge."

She's too overwhelmed, so she kisses him in response; she thinks that no matter how this plays out, it'll work.

Because they'll make it work.

Neither of them notice the storms outside for the rest of the night.

XXXXXX