OK, I know I have other things going on. And this is random. But the idea grabbed me earlier today and I wrote it in less than two hours, so...why not?

"Mr. Snart?"

The voice, so familiar after the past few years, is perfectly pitched to insinuate itself into his slumbering consciousness. Leonard mutters something, squeezing his eyes shut even harder in the warm darkness, and tightens his arms around the slumbering person in his arms, who, for once, doesn't even twitch.

"Mr. Snart. It's time."

Now, that gets his attention. Leonard opens his eyes abruptly, part of him relieved to see that he is, indeed, right where he'd thought he'd been. He looks at his bedmate, who's still, so far as he can tell, fast asleep.

"You mean…"

"No." Gideon almost sounds sheepish. "I should have chosen the words better, especially at this point. I am detecting a heightened level of temporal energy around you. You told me you believed you had one more jump. I believe it will be soon."

Leonard blinks. "Ah. Crap." Mind suddenly fully awake and working furiously, he presses a cautious kiss to the tanged hair under his nose, then carefully disentangles himself, slipping out of bed and cursing (silently) to himself as his feet hit the cold floor.

"I can't believe you didn't wake…" he says, barely breathing the words.

"My voice is pitched as precisely as possible to be for your ears alone, Mr. Snart. And right now…"

"Yeah, I know." He smiles fondly at the bed. "Hold on. Be outta here in a moment."

"The time pulse is growing. Please hurry."

Leonard's a little proud he can still wear the black jeans from back in the day, not that they're that different from more current varieties. Black sweater, black jacket. He's gone over the footage with Gideon countless times. He knows what to do.

Once he's safely out of their room, he makes his way to Hunter's old office (why does he still think of it that way?), carefully avoiding any locations where the night owls on the crew might be lingering as the ship moves through the time stream. Once there and safely locked in, he peers at himself in the mirror, running a hand over his close-cropped hair and considering.

A little grayer, maybe? Not enough, he thinks, to tip anyone off. Although as far as he can tell and Gideon agrees, only one person is going to see him this time.

"Gideon?" he says quietly.

"Any moment now, Mr. Snart. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I can be." He shakes his head. "How many times have I watched that footage? I know what to say. I…crap."

"What is it?"

But Len's pulling out the desk drawer, sighing with relief as he finds the deck of cards there.

"I kinda need these," he reminds the AI, smiling a little.

"So you do. Please…"

But there's a familiar ripple of something like electricity in the air, then, and blue light rises to blind him, and…

And he's standing in the hallway, still on the Waverider, but about five years earlier. At least, if this one last jump is what he thinks it is.

He, and Gideon, are pretty sure it is.

This time's Gideon, however, has no idea. This is the only time he'd visited the Waverider directly, as far as they could figure out, and it's the only jump the others don't know about. But once he'd started putting the pieces together, he'd known this had to be one of them. He's been waiting for it.

It means a lot to the current him, after all.

After the Oculus explosion, Leonard had been hurled into the time stream, months and years passing in the blink of an eye for him. By the time the Waverider had found him and pulled him out (while looking for Hunter, of all people), it'd been three years for them, but only a heartbeat for him. He'd sprawled on the floor of the cargo bay and stared up at Sara and Mick and a few people he didn't know, and they stared back like they were seeing a ghost.

Well. In a way, they were.

The jumps had started only a few hours later. Far as Gideon could tell, the sheer amount of temporal energy still hovering in and around him sort of hit critical mass, exploding in a burst of light and hurling him…

Back in time, dropping him into 1980 and a sadly familiar situation, the dark alleyway where a young Leo Snart (he was still calling himself Leo at that time) was hiding behind a filthy, stinking dumpster, terrified, because his dad had left him behind when a job had gone south, and his dad's erstwhile partners were out there looking for him, determined to take their anger out on the boss' scrawny kid.

He remembered that day. He remembered shaking, arms wrapped around himself as he curled into the dark, hoping they wouldn't find him. And he remembered the looming dark shape in the alley, how it'd seemed to regard him and then turned away, calling to the men and leading them away.

After a moment, the older Leonard had turned and stared into the dark space behind the dumpster. Then he'd turned away, just as the boy he'd been remembered, and called out, drawing the thugs away.

He'd given them a taste of what'd happen if they ever went after a kid again, too, walking away from the moans and groans…and then felt the electric surge again.

And then he'd been back on the Waverider, right where and when he'd been before.

It continued to happen, always to spots along his own timeline. With Mick and Gideon's help, he'd done his best to map out times and places he might jump. They're all roughly in order, some a surprise and some, as time goes by, not.

Sometimes, there's something he has to do, something that he remembers happening. Sometimes he just needs to keep himself out of trouble until he jumps back. Sometimes, just the sense of unease his nearby older self tends to cause in his younger self is enough to make things happen.

His younger self gives it a name, one time. "Alexa." For the woman whose near betrayal had nearly killed him.

At this point, more than five years after he'd first set out on the Waverider, Leonard's pretty sure there's only this one jump left. One jump to bring his younger self up to the point of the Oculus blast itself. The last one had been months ago for him, dropping him just outside the ship where it'd rested at the Vanishing Point.

It'd been only moments before the Time Masters goons arrived. On the ship, he remembers, his younger self had been uneasy, sensing something amiss. He'd dragged Sara into hiding with him, claiming "Alexa." It'd saved the two of them…and then it'd saved them all.

And now there's this jump.

"Mr. Snart!" Gideon sounds surprised, as much as an AI can. "What…"

But he's held up a hand, shushing her. "I know," he says quietly. "I know. I'm lousy with temporal energy, I'm chronologically five years older, and there are now two of me on this ship." He pauses. "Younger me is moping around the cargo bay, trying to figure out the whole feelings thing and decide what, if anything, he should say to a certain angry assassin he's half in love with."

Gideon's pause lasts a few beats. "Go on," she says finally.

"I'm not telling you much, but make sure you're recording all I do here, because I'm gonna need it later. OK?"

"I…yes."

"And I know it goes against, well, everything, but don't tell Hunter. He'll find out in his own time. This needs to go a certain way. And only tell me about this one, later, when I'm back and it's time. OK?

And then, without waiting for a response, Leonard takes a deep breath and starts striding along the hall, heading for a certain room, a certain person, a certain…confession.

He remembers this day, too. All his anger at himself, for pulling his gun, all the ways he'd fucked up, there in the Vanishing Point. Too many feelings, so unfamiliar and…and so messy…and no idea what he could possibly offer to this remarkable woman he'd never meant to care for.

He'd paced and cursed and waited too long, and then it'd been too late. Too late before they headed out to fight. Too late when he'd realized what Mick had done. Too late when Sara, staring at him as he held down the failsafe, when suddenly hauled herself up on his arm and kissed him in a way he'd wished he'd had the nerve to do earlier.

He'd held her gaze as long as possible, and then she was gone, and there was Druce and…

And then it was three years later.

When the jumps started, and when….other things…had started, Gideon had told him about the slightly older Snart double who'd been on the ship that day, and what he'd told her. And she'd played this video for him.

It explained a lot…including words that Sara had only just decided to remind him of, words that he didn't remember speaking, an overture he didn't remember having the nerve to make.

He'd watched the conversation with the sort of nerves he'd had that day on the ship. Watched his double make a play. (An awkward play, but still.) Watched him get shot down. Watched him smile as Sara walked away, a smile that said he knew something.

Well, Leonard's at that room now. He takes a deep breath, forcing down nerves (which is ridiculous, considering), then steps into the doorway, leaning casually against the edge.

Sara Lance, five years younger than the last time he'd seen her, glances up at him from where she's resting. He waggles the deck of cards at her, trying (badly) to look innocent.

"Not in the mood," she tells him shortly.

Wiser men would back away from that tone. Leonard's never been wise. He reaches for the long-memorized words, staring at her, remembering the day, the fear, the panic and the need to get her the hell out of there…

"I was gonna apologize for pulling a gun on you," he tells her, "but apparently I was just following a script." Not entirely true, but whatever.

Sara's not having it, fiddling with her rings, avoiding his eyes. "Doesn't make you any less of a jerk."

He sighs, hesitating a bare moment, remembering. "Guilty." Despite her clear ire, he stays where he is, reaching for conversation. "So what do we think of Rip's plan?"

Sara finally looks at him again. "Does it matter?" She sits up, apparently realizing he's not leaving quite yet. "Apparently everything we're going to do has already been predetermined by Rip's former bosses."

Play it cool, play it cool. "It's funny, I've always prided myself on being the guy who doesn't play by the rules," he drawls, watching her. "Come to find out, I'm the one being played."

Sara looks away, then back at him. "I don't know," she returns. "I still feel responsible for everything I've done. And it still keeps me up at night."

Leonard feels as nervous as if he doesn't already know what he's going to do here. Why is that? The man he'd truly been at this point is down in the cargo bay right now, going over words he won't use, again and again. With another breath, the older version moves into the room, heading toward her.

"It's the things I didn't do that keep me up at night," he notes, remembering the turmoil he'd felt, then, realizing that he was falling, unable to figure out what to do about it.

Sara eyes him. "What's that?"

"Oh, I don't know." Leonard leans against the bed, glancing away. "Maybe it's being on this ship traveling through time. I started to wonder what the future might hold for me... and you..."

He braces himself, and glances up, into those wary eyes. "And me and you."

Sara tilts her head, then leans just a little closer. Just a little. "You want to steal a kiss from me, Leonard?" she asks calmly, far more calmly than he feels. "You better be one hell of a thief."

And with that she rises, heading to the door, out onto the ship, still angry at him. His younger self will see her watching him later and have no idea that a seed has been planted anywhere other than in his dreams.

Leonard watches her go, smiling to himself.

What the future might hold...

And then, blue light blinds him again.

Back in what passes for the current time on the Waverider, the older Leonard makes his way back to the room without interruption or incident, nodding to himself when he steps inside and into the darkness. Shedding the dark clothing and pulling his sleep pants and an old T-shirt back on, he regards the shape in the bed for a long moment, then crawls in too, settling himself against her and pulling the covers over them both.

After another moment, Sara stirs, stretching a little.

"Everything OK?" she asks sleepily, tilting her head back to look at him. "I woke a few minutes ago and you weren't here. But Gideon didn't say anything."

"Everything's fine," he tells the woman he loves, leaning forward to steal a kiss, marveling at time and second chances and all the moments that add up to make a life. "Shhh. Sleep well, or you'll regret it tomorrow."

He puts his arms around her as she settles contentedly back against him, resting a hand on the curve of her stomach and smiling as their unborn daughter, growing there, kicks the palm of his hand sharply in response.

"Mmm." Sara smirks at him even as she relaxes again, settling her hand over his. "You too."

"Oh," he says quietly, breathing deeply, content in a way his earlier self would never have imagined. "I will."