While only a few people left comments on the last chapter, I do appreciate the feedback. I have decided to break this chapter up, so this story will probably end up as three chapters instead. But I don't think you'll mind. Now let's continue forward as everyone deals with the fallout from the last chapter.

Temporal Zone

"Do I want to ask why your team decided to turn a quiet reconnaissance and retrieval mission into a full-blown assault?" asked Rip, massaging his temple. Sara could practically see his migraine forming through the screen. "I mean, none of you are particularly subtle. But that was excessively loud and flashy, even for the team."

Grimacing at the pins-and-needles sensation of circulation returning to her chilly extremities, Sara flexed her hands and said, "We had to adjust our plans a little. But it worked out. We found the trio of time travelers, we found their timeship, we locked them in their own brig, and sent the timeship back to your headquarters. And since the only people around were the Swedish forces, everyone who hears about this will think it was hallucinations caused by hunger and hypothermia. The timeline is preserved. You should be happy."

"Technically, the mission counts as a success," said Rip, burying his face in his hands briefly before dragging them down his cheeks. "But I swear all of you are trying to give me gray hair. None of my new teams cause me this much stress."

Sara rubbed her arms to combat the goosebumps and said, "Your new teams are made up of the more rational remaining members of the Time Masters that you tracked down and new people that you carefully chose to be humble and moral enough not to repeat the Time Masters' past mistakes. You picked us to be disruptive and difficult to stop. For both Savage and your old bosses. You really can't be that surprised that we ended up more difficult."

His shoulders shook slightly as Rip tried to resist laughing. He slowly nodded as he leaned back in his chair.

"No, I suppose that I shouldn't have expected anything different. Regardless, even if your methods remain unorthodox, I've never doubted your abilities. Nice work, Captain Lance."

"Thank you, Captain Hunter," she said. "And while I'm sure that we should talk more, could we wait until a later time? We need to take care of a few things after that last mission."

"Is someone on the team injured?"

Hesitating only briefly, Sara answered, "No one was seriously injured, no. But we do have a situation that needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later."

"I understand. A captain's work is never done. I suppose I can go and oversee proceedings with the trio that you sent us. Just be certain to contact me when things calm down."

The screen went blank and Sara pushed herself out of the chair. With that particular task out of the way, she left the library and started heading towards the galley. Everyone else should already be waiting there.

Well, not quite everyone. One member of the team had stormed down the hall of the Waverider as soon as the timeship landed, vanishing into this room without a word. Rory barely spoke during entire mission. He avoided meeting their eyes that evening since The Incident. Honestly, she was surprised that he didn't try to keep his distance from the team with how he'd been acting. But Rory stayed close to Firestorm and then later the fires started during the fight, staying close to the sources of heat. No one could miss the unease, even if he didn't completely lock up like before.

Leonard said to leave him in his room for now. He warned everyone from trying anything. People had questions and Ray and Amaya definitely wanted to check on him. But Leonard seemed to think that it was smarter to give him a moment or two alone before making him deal with people.

But while Sara knew that Leonard generally knew the best way to handle his partner, the man possessing decades of experience on his side, she could also tell that he was calmly and quietly freaking out. It was subtle, but she was getting better at spotting things beneath Leonard's mask of control and he didn't hide quite as much anymore. So she could tell that he was almost as shocked by Rory's reaction as everyone else. He'd clearly never seen the man act like that before and thus couldn't completely predict what would happen or how to handle it.

Sara entered the galley to find everyone nursing steaming mugs containing tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. The decision to gather there instead of the library worked in their favor. Not only did it have access to hot drinks to help warm everyone up, but the casual atmosphere made it seem less like a formal meeting. It was just a group of people trying to combat the chill with tea and hot chocolate rather than an attempt to talk about their teammate behind his back.

Speaking of which…

"Gideon, if Rory leaves his room, could you give us a heads up?" she asked. "I don't think he needs to walk in on this conversation without warning. With our luck, he'll only overhear the worst parts possible and misunderstand what's happening."

"Of course, Captain Lance."

Sara claimed a chair next to Leonard, prompting him to slide a mug over to her. She smiled at the simple white design and the hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows. She could tell from the smell that he didn't use the food replicator. This was the stuff from his personal stash, the "welcome back from being presumed dead" gift from Barry. He was even holding his light blue mug with a snowflake pattern filled with the same beverage. Sara took a sip, thankful for the flavor and the warmth.

Then, taking a deep breath, she decided to stop procrastinating. They needed to address the issue.

"Let's start with the obvious question," she said slowly. "What exactly is going on with our resident arsonist?"

Shifting awkwardly and exchanging looks with Stein, Jax said, "I wasn't completely sure, man. Not until we tried something. But…"

"Jefferson theorized that Mr. Rory's adverse reaction might have been caused by the extreme temperatures," continued Stein.

"It wasn't much of a stretch, all things considered." Jax shrugged slightly. "So we tried warming him up and… Well, you saw. He snapped out of it a little."

"Enough to talk to us again, at least," said Nate quietly.

"Mick's never liked the cold." Leonard stared at the marshmallows floating in the hot chocolate. "He would grumble about the winter weather at different points over the years. But he was never like this."

Rubbing her arms briefly, Amaya said, "I've seen similar reactions before in men during war. When they see too much. This wasn't quite the same, but similar."

Shell shock. PTSD. They had called it different things over the decades, but that's what she was talking about. Sara knew exactly what Amaya was describing. A few of the assassins suffered the same condition after their first targets or after jobs that went particularly badly; those poor souls would then be forced to overcome the issue or to shatter beneath the pressure. The League of Assassins wasn't exactly big on maintaining or encouraging the mental and emotional health of those involved.

"The guy who nearly froze to death having a bad reaction to the cold? Makes sense to me," said Ray quietly.

Leonard stiffened slightly, but Sara only noticed because she was watching for it. She could already guess what was going through his head at Ray's words.

"If we're assuming that all of this started because of the events that happened a few months ago, they why didn't we notice anything sooner?" asked Nate.

A few suspicious starting to form in her head, Sara glanced up and asked, "Gideon, has Rory had any bad reactions when we visited colder climates? Stuff that he's tried to hide from us?"

The slight hesitation from the A.I. gave her the answer before Gideon said a word.

"Upon returning from the mission in Siberia, 1892, Mr. Rory was experiencing a panic attack that he managed to conceal from the team," she said evenly. "Other missions produced less extreme reactions due to Mr. Rory's awareness of the issue, but he would display biological symptoms of extreme distress prior to and after exposure to lower temperatures."

Leonard cursed quietly, his grip on his mug tightening. It didn't take a genius to guess what he was thinking. He was feeling guilty about not noticing what was wrong sooner. And about the situation in general. She was going to have to drag him off later and convince him that he wasn't to blame.

For someone with the Cisco-approved name of "Captain Cold," he was not as cold-hearted as he tried to act.

"Cryophobia," said Stein. "Or perhaps frigophobia. The line dividing the two terms is a bit fuzzy and I cannot seem to recall the exact difference at the moment. But it sounds like Mr. Rory has developed an irrational fear of the extreme cold."

Frowning, Ray asked, "Why wouldn't he tell us?"

"Man, are you serious?" Jax shook his head tiredly. "Do you honestly think that someone like Rory would ever admit to something like that?"

Of course not. Neither Rory nor Leonard would be the types to admit weakness or vulnerability. Sara wasn't much better at it sometimes. But at least she had a normal childhood before the League of Assassin. She could actually remember a time when weakness or vulnerability didn't serve as an opening for someone to attack, figuratively or literally.

"The question isn't why we didn't know about this sooner," said Sara. Taking another sip of hot chocolate before looking around the room, she continued, "The important thing is what we're going to do now that we know about the problem. Because ignoring it is definitely not an option."

Because Rory's clear attempt to ignore and deny the issue led to him freezing up in the middle of a Russian forest.

"Therapy from a trained profession would be the preferred treatment," said Stein, "though I highly suspect we would encounter incredible resistance if we suggested it to him. Beyond that, maybe he'll do better after a break, either somewhere warm or at least familiar. A vacation could do him some good. If his reaction this evening was stressful to us, then I can only imagine how stressful it might have been for him. But any more specific suggestions on dealing with the issue would require further discussion with Mr. Rory about what his limits might be. Maybe we can figure out a method of working around them."

"That's not going to be a fun conversation," muttered Ray.

Crossing his arms, Jax said, "At least no one is stupid enough to suggest something like kicking him off the team 'for his own good' or whatever."

"No one throws Mick off this timeship," said Leonard sharply.

"And no one is suggesting it." Sara gave him a reassuring smile. "If he wants to leave, we won't stop him. But he's part of this team as long as he wants. We just need to know what to keep an eye out for. We can work with this."

They could adapt. Leading the team meant finding ways to balance everyone's strengths and weaknesses. Different times and different places required different skillsets. Not everyone could do everything and part of her job was picking the right person for each situation. And if she couldn't find a way to work around his newly-developed fear, then she was a failure as a captain.

Brushing against Leonard's arm subtly, Sara said, "No one could have predicted how it would affect him. Pulling off dangerous stunts is what this team does, especially when it involves saving people. And especially our friends. You would have risked the exactly same thing to get him back, Leonard. Any of us would have done the same thing. And we might have ended up with the same reaction afterwards."

He closed his eyes briefly before slowly standing up. Leonard pushed his mug back slightly, the beverage only half gone.

"I'll be back. Mick should have straightened his head out a little by now," he said.

As Leonard left the galley, Jax muttered, "Guess it's time for that awkward conversation."

Leonard didn't bother knocking. He wasn't giving Mick the option to keep him out. His partner wouldn't be avoiding this.

Not after the unnerving sight of Mick aiming his Heat Gun at himself.

A wave of warmth washed over him as soon as the door opened. He didn't know if Mick requested it or if Gideon did it on her own, but the temperature of the room was noticeably higher than the rest of the timeship.

Unsurprisingly, the chaotically-messy room was filled with assorted stolen loot from across room. Which honestly was rather normal for the man. Most ended up shoved to against the walls and a few places were semi-organized, but housekeeping was never a big concern for him.

But Leonard barely paid attention to the state of the room beyond making sure that it wasn't trashed worse than normal and nothing looked broken or burnt. Most of his focus fell on the man. Mick sat on the edge of his bed rather than taking up space on the exercise bench. And when Leonard entered, he barely even glanced up from the lighter in his hands.

It wasn't lit. That was probably for the best. While a small fire normally calmed and distracted him, there were times where Mick's obsession could take a darker turn. Especially when his mind was already heading in dangerous directions. Leonard had seen it multiple times over the years. Based on Mick's previous state, Leonard was simply thankful that his partner wasn't burning his hand currently.

Though the torn knuckles suggest that he gave in to his frustrations enough to try punching a hard and unyielding surface. Probably a wall or something similar.

Forcing his current turbulent and wild emotions to remain under control wasn't easy. He'd been struggling to keep them from surfacing, to keep them trapped at the back of his head. He needed to keep calm and logical about this.

Mick was the hot-head of their partnership and Leonard was the rational one. They balanced each other. He'd kept Mick from going out of control and grounded him, reminding him to think before acting and pulling him back when the hypnotic power of fire grew too strong. And he'd kept Leonard from growing too cold, rigid, and cruel, forcing him to be more adaptive and flexible with his plans and letting Leonard relax by giving him someone that he could trust. He'd spent most of his life needing to be the voice of reason in their partnership and that involved a lot of self-control.

But Leonard's emotions had been rebelling since they found his partner in that unnerving state of overwhelming and unresponsive terror. And everything since that moment kept feeding into that feeling of wrongness and unease.

But he was going to fix this. He would regain control of the situation and ensure that there wouldn't be a repeat. And he wouldn't miss problems like this again.

He was good at figuring out all the possible problems and how to avoid them. As long as he had all the information, he could handle things. He could guarantee successful outcomes and keep his small group of important people safe.

Lisa. Mick. And now people like Barry and everyone on board the Waverider.

But it was when people tried to hide things from him, when he missed things, his plans started to unravel and started going wrong.

"Mick, what were you thinking?"

Not looking up, he said, "I messed up. It won't happen again."

"You messed up by not saying anything. You knew that something was wrong and didn't tell us. You didn't tell me. How are we supposed to make any type of plan when we don't have all the facts?" Leonard positioned himself in front of his partner, making it harder for Mick to avoid his gaze. Mick managed anyway. "Why didn't you at least tell me what was going on?"

"It's nothing," said Mick gruffly. "I can handle it."

"We found you standing in the middle of the forest, not moving or talking, aiming your Heat Gun at yourself." Leonard's voice came out as cold and sharp as ice. "That isn't nothing."

He couldn't get the image out of his head. As he stared at Mick, Leonard didn't truly see his partner sitting on the edge of his bed. He saw that dark and frozen forest with Mick—

—Mick paralyzed by fear; blind, deaf, and ignorant to those around him. Helpless and vulnerable to his surroundings—

—Lying lifeless in medbay, Mick completely silent and still. Dying. Only the stubbornness of the team refusing to give up holding off death for the moment, performing CPR on him—

—His expression hardened by resolve, Mick holding the switch down to ensure the destruction of the Oculus and the entire organization that hurt him so much. Choosing to die for both revenge and to keep Raymond from dying there instead—

—Furious and with a Cold Gun aimed at him, Mick threatening to kill everyone unless Leonard killed him first. And after his stunt with the pirates, he clearly meant it. Leonard couldn't send him home alone or Mick would become a wildfire and destroy everything. Maybe even Lisa. Out of control and lashing out, he was dangerous. Perhaps even too dangerous to live—

—The stench of burnt flesh and wood smoke filling the air, Leonard dragging the limp figure of his partner away from the flames. He should have kept better control of Mick. He should have been paying closer attention to his fraying mental state, should have seen how his obsession was getting too much control, and should have seen that it had been too long since Mick had a proper outlet. Mick's problems were killing him and Leonard couldn't stop it—

"It was just too quiet, too dark, and too… too cold," said Mick, forcing Leonard to focus on the present and shove those rebellious emotions back down. "It was too much like… like when I…" He couldn't completely suppress the shudder, though Mick clearly tried even as he refused to meet his eyes. "It just messed with my head. It won't happen again. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. And pretending you're fine is stupid," said Leonard. "What if we didn't notice that you fell behind as quickly as we did? What if you stayed there for hours? Or what if you froze up like that during a fight? You could have gotten yourself killed along with anyone depending on you."

Mick surged to his feet, his eyes finally meeting Leonard's. The distant, dull, and anxious expression was still there, though fainter than before. But he could at least see some hints of life burning in his partner again. And anger. Where Leonard's worry and frustration turned cold and hard, Mick's emotions always leaned towards something volatile and aggressive.

"I can handle it. And even with this one stupid mistake, I wouldn't let the them down. I can still do my job here," he said, his voice a rough bark. "I'm fine, Leonard. I won't let it happen again. So drop it and leave me alone."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place."

Because Mick shouldn't have nearly died from the cold. This entire mess happened because Mick decided to risk everything to drag Leonard back. Which meant that it was Leonard's fault.

But Mick didn't take the words that way. Anger flickered behind his eyes. In a familiar movement from countless arguments between them, Mick yanked the Heat Gun from the holster and pointed it towards Leonard. And just like whenever his partner would point a weapon at him out of anger in the past, Leonard reacted automatically with his own.

It was instinctive. Their arguments often involved aiming weapons at each other. It had been that way since the start of their adult criminal careers.

But when Leonard's Cold Gun swung up, Mick's eyes widened and the blank emptiness returned in full force. The Heat Gun clattered to the floor, slipping from limp fingers. And belatedly Leonard realized that he was pointing a weapon that produced cold at his partner who was now terrified of the cold. And maybe he would have been able to hide his reaction normally, but Mick hadn't seemed completely over his earlier reaction before Leonard apparently decided to make things worse.

Leonard cursed quietly as he dropped his arm, putting away the weapon and even taking a step back to give him some space. The blank, unseeing, and terrified look took a while to fade. The unsteady and hitched breathing took even longer to even back out. Both facts seemed to make Leonard's rebellious emotions surge up worse than before.

"You know that I wouldn't fire on you," said Leonard quietly. "I wouldn't do that."

"I know." Mick's voice sounded tight as he spoke, his eyes squeezing closed briefly. "I know you won't. But…" He cursed quietly, his hands opening and closing into fists a few times. "It's stupid. You won't do it. I'm not scared of you. Not you. But something in my brain is a mess and won't… It's so stupid. Even thinking about the cold…" He sank back down on the edge of the bed. "This is so stupid. What's wrong with me?"

Leonard stared at him silently. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know.

Mick said that he wasn't scared of him. But he'd all but admitted that he was scared of the cold. Even admitting that much told Leonard that it had to be pretty bad.

Emotions weren't either of their strong suit. Mick tended to turn his into anger while Leonard tended to push his down to control them. Neither of them confronted the more uncomfortable feelings. They denied them, avoided them, and pretended the problems didn't exist until the emotions passed. Fear especially was never acknowledged.

But apparently another unexpected side effect of staying on the team was that they were being at least a little more honest about their feelings. Just not enough for this particular problem.

This wouldn't pass. Denying and avoiding the issue hadn't worked for Mick. In fact, it could have gotten him killed. His partner needed help.

And Leonard didn't know how to help him. After decades of keeping his partner's sanity relatively intact and his obsession with fire from completely consuming him, Leonard couldn't do a thing this time. In fact, he'd managed to make it worse. He couldn't help Mick because this dealt with emotions and Leonard didn't know how to help with those. Not enough for this.

He couldn't fix this. He was useless.

But he knew someone who could handle complex feelings. Someone that Mick trusted and who wouldn't be intimidated into dropping the subject. And someone who wouldn't go for pity or false reassurances that they didn't believe in. Because they were just too honest and almost painfully optimistic.

Basically the man was like Barry without the super speed.

"Give me a minute," said Leonard before matching out of the room.

A few teammates still lingered in the galley, including the member that Leonard was searching for. He grabbed the man's arm and dragged him away from the steaming mug without a word. Leonard pulled him down the hallway, ignoring the confused questions, before returning to Mick's room. He shoved his teammate in, causing the man to stumble in an attempt to avoid falling on his face.

"You're up, Raymond," said Leonard. "You're going to help me knock some sense into Mick's head and sort all this out."

Let's see if the most optimistic member of "Legends of Tomorrow" can help this situation out a bit. And remember, writers do appreciate feedback.