Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“There are no strings on me.”

Blinding white light.

And then nothing.

Leonard woke up with a sharp take of breath, eyes opening into the dark night sky above. In a fluid movement, he sat up, glancing around him and assessing his situation. He was on a rooftop, seven strangers were with him. Wait. He knew them: the Hawks, the Kid, the Professor, the Boy Scout, Mick and… Sara.  

He’d love to say it was impossible to be right back where he’d started, but Leornard had lived through too much weirdness to start doubting the impossible now.

Before he could decide how he wanted to play this (be it a dream or – with his luck, doubtful – an actual second chance), his mouth moved, almost involuntarily. “Stein. What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, pushing away the urge to shiver at the deja vu feeling that fell over him.

“I’m as ignorant as you, for once,” the Professor replied without missing a beat.

“Where are we?” Sara asked, and Leonard tried to catch sight of her around Stein, but couldn't.

At the end of the line, Jax scoffed. “Why don’t you ask the dude who knocked us out and kidnapped us? British dude with a flashy thing, ring any bells–”

Leonard didn’t need to wait for the Kid to finish, he knew what’d come next. He also knew the words, having them scorched into his brain from the beginning. He tried to stand, to demand answers from the former Time Master as Rip appeared. Maybe order him to take him back to his own time, except… it didn’t seem like he was in control of his own body.

“The name’s Rip Hunter. I’m from East London.” Dramatic pause. “Oh, and the future.”

Finally, he got up. Or the other him did, the one who seemed to be in control. The him from the present? Or would it be the past? The tenses dilemma was gonna get real old, real fast.

Still. Figures. Sacrifice yourself to save the world’s free will and get a one way ticket to being locked inside your own head with no autonomy whatsoever. Karma really was a bitch.

Leonard tried to take a step forward, tried to turn his head or raise a hand, but it was like his entire body was disconnected from his brain and the signals were just not going through. Now that he was paying attention to it, he could almost hear his former self's thoughts running alongside his, like two parallel streams – close, but not touching. Peachy.

Mick growled from next to him, already reaching for his gun. “Nice to meet you, Rip.”

“Uh, while you were incapacitaded, I may have tampered with your weapons,” and then, before giving them much time to think about it, Rip continued. “I’ve assembled you all because…” Leonard, having heard Rip’s rehearsed speech before, took the time to study his former – future? – teammates and the situation he found himself in.

Rip said he’d ‘tampered’ with their weapons, but considering that soon afterwards their guns had started to work normally again, Leonard figured he’d only used some kind of EMP to temporarily disable their guns; same with Raymond’s suit. The Kid and the Professor had been laid far apart so there was no risk of them merging to form Firestorm upon waking up in an unfamiliar place. As for the Hawks, other than Carter’s mace, he couldn’t recall them using other weapons besides their fists. They also weren’t likely to attack while waking up disoriented. Same would go for Sara. He doubted Rip had gotten even half of the Assassin’s knives from their many hiding places, but she was also too disoriented to attack.

His past self had his eyes focused intently on Rip as he explained the mission, and Leonard could almost see and hear the cogs working within his brain, trying to figure out what Rip’s angle could possibly be; why him? How could a man be immortal and restored from a single cell? How could people reincarnate? And how did the blonde woman fit in with the weird, armored people? Snart was intrigued, to say the least, but Leonard knew it would take a little more to convince his past self to join the mission.

“What the hell does this… Randall guy gotta do with us?!” Mick grunted from behind him, but he – well, the other him – didn’t turn to look at his partner.

Still, his past self kept quiet. Taking in all the questions, listening to all the answers Rip gave, and didn’t give. Wondering if a little thrill was worth going after someone who couldn’t, apparently, be killed. Imagining, at the same time, all the things he could do and steal with time travel at his disposal.

Leonard almost wanted to tell his past self not to go. It would be so much easier to stay in Central City, stay home, antagonize the Flash and steal to his non-existent-heart’s content. No self sacrificing buillshit, no playing hero, no–

Almost as if he’d heard him, his past self started walking forward. “You got the wrong guy… Hero ain’t on my resume.”

“Or mine.”

“I know it’s difficult for you to fathom-” Rip’s voice rang out, stopping Snart on his tracks and Leonard sighed in relief. 

For a moment there it had really felt like the past version of him was going to keep walking away. And it wasn’t until then that Leonard realized how much he wanted to stay. He had to stay, if only because these idiots would get themselves killed if he didn’t go on the mission and then where would he be? Trapped inside his own head forever? Nah, no way. So he couldn’t control his body, but it seemed like he could still influence Snart in some way, and so he had to try. 

“–but where- when I’m from, the year 2166, you and everyone on this roof aren’t just considered heroes. You’re Legends.”

Rip’s speech was a nice one, but it lost its shine once Leonard already knew most of it was just bullshit to fool a bunch of nobodies into helping him. 

Even so, he couldn’t help trying to tune in into his past self’s thoughts about Hunter’s offer later as Snart laid on the couch of a safehouse, pretending to read a magazine while Mick messed around with his tools. 

Leonard remembered this moment, trying to come up with a plan of action, but there were too many variables to make any kind of solid plan. No, he had to go in blind on this one, and he couldn’t do it without his partner to watch his back.

In the end, he didn’t have to do much, if anything at all, to encourage his past self to go along with the mission. Which made sense, since the first time around he didn’t remember any kind of voice in the back of his mind whispering suggestions. Then again, maybe he didn’t even notice the voice, his conscience. He wasn’t sure how this kind of time travel worked, and to be honest, he wasn’t very confident in Rip’s knowledge either. Somehow, this felt like a once in a lifetime experience. Just his luck that it’d happened to him. Not.

Then again, if this was his only chance to save himself, he’d take it.

Eventually, his past self went to sleep, but when he woke up, Leonard knew they weren’t in the safehouse anymore.

Chapter Text

As soon as he recognized his surroundings, Leonard cursed his past self for not leaving a message for Lisa.

The previous night, he’d made a mental note to try and encourage the other Snart to call Lisa, or at the very least to leave a note somewhere she was bound to come looking. If he didn’t manage to save himself by the time he reached the Oculus again, he didn’t want to leave anything unsaid to his baby sister.

Alas, being in the passenger seat inside his own head wasn’t a guarantee of anything.

Checking out his surroundings, he noticed that he was strutting down the street with Sara on one side and Mick on the other. Their destination? The closest open bar they could find.

Right, he remembered this. First act of rebellion against the dear, old Captain. First time Killer, Klepto and Pyro started a bar brawl. First time he witnessed the force of nature that was one Sara Lance. 

How could he ever forget? 

Leonard also remembered one other thing about this particular adventure. Something he didn’t do that would soon keep him up at night.

They made their way inside, ignoring the curious looks from what he guessed were bar regulars. Once Mick had acquired their beers and left to pick a song on the jukebox, Leonard’s metaphorical stomach twisted.

Sara was standing close to him, closer than he usually allowed anyone but Mick or his sister to stand, and yet even his past self didn’t seem to mind all that much. It wasn’t a surprise at all for Leonard to realize that even before getting to know her, something about the assassin had called to him.

The music started – Love Will Keep Us Together, by Captain and Tenille – and Sara glanced up at him, a considering smirk playing at the corner of her lips and just the slightest spark of challenge in her eyes. “You wanna dance, Leonard?”

He could feel the answer at the tip of Snart's tongue, waiting to roll out before the last syllable of his name was even fully out of her mouth. “You go right ahead. I’ll watch.”

That’s what Leonard had said the first time, and it had made perfect sense then. He didn’t know her, he didn’t care about her more than just as an interesting member of his new 'team'. A rebel and an outsider, like him and Mick. As comfortable as Snart seemed to automatically feel with her proximity, he didn’t think gratuitous touch was quite a possibility yet. 

But that was then. This time, he knew her. Or, at least, Leonard-the-consciousness knew her. He knew about her family, about how much she loved them and her friends. He knew she had scars, and that the battle against the bloodlust was an uphill one, but she kept trying. He knew she wasn’t a killer anymore, he knew she could drink Mick under the table without even getting tipsy, and he knew she probably had several knives hidden in her outfit. 

Leonard also knew mundane stuff; like how someone was likely to get murdered in the morning if they got between her and a cup of coffee, and that she hated the fact she'd been born on Christmas, and he knew… so much more.

He wasn’t much of a dancer. Oh, he could dance, and he was even good at it, even if he reserved that particular skill for jobs when it was required. But he wasn’t really a casual dancer, and this – in the middle of a bar with no dance floor and to this type of music – wasn’t exactly his scene. So he understood his past self’s immediate urge to deny Sara’s invitation. 

But this was one instance that had kept him up for several nights later. What if he had accepted her offer? Would it have made a difference? Would she have let him in sooner? Would their card games have started earlier?

Leonard didn’t know, but now he had a chance to find out. And if nothing else changed, at least he would die with one less regret. So he tried to focus, tried to imagine those two streams of thoughts  – his and Snart's, like two rivers running parallel to each other – and tried to picture himself reaching over to his past self's stream and sending thoughts of 'Yes. Dance with her. Say yes.'

Was he pulling his own strings? Maybe a little. But Leonard felt more like the Cricket to his past self’s Pinocchio than anything else. 

It took Snart a moment to consider the offer, intense blue eyes fixed firmly on the blonde before him, and then he nodded, once. “Sure. Why not?” he drawled.

Sara’s eyes lit up with pleased surprise, and Leonard took her beer bottle from her hand to settle it, along with his, on a table next to the jukebox. He spared his partner a glance, and Mick just sent him a suggestive smirk with a raised eyebrow to boot.

Refraining from rolling his eyes, he turned back to Sara and slipped his hand into her waiting one. She led him a little further into an open space and reached up to settle both arms over his shoulders, fingers connecting losenly behind his neck. For his part, Snart settled his hands on her hips; firm enough so he wouldn’t lose his grip, but loose enough that she could step away at any moment. Sara didn’t seem inclined to step away though, as she only took half a step closer and began swaying to the music.

Love... Love will keep us together. Think of me, babe, whenever…

“Not gonna lie, I'm kinda surprised you agreed,” Sara said, a teasing smile dancing at the corner of her lips as she looked up at him. “You didn’t strike me as the dancing type.”

Snart smirked and shrugged his shoulders, careful not to dislocate her arms. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

She chuckled. “I’ll say. Do you–” Before she could continue, a heavy hand descended on her, pushing her hair to the side, exposing her shoulder and prompting her to turn around. Sara didn’t miss the way Snart’s hands had squeezed her waist before he let her go, or the dangerous glint in his eyes directed at the burly man standing before them.

“Can I help you?” Sara asked, all the previous amusement gone from her voice. 

The man was tall, towering over her in a way that let her know he was used to using his size as a threat. He was wearing a leather vest, showing off the burly physique of a brute who thought he owned women left and right. Sara knew the type.

“How about you join me in the parking lot?” He asked, even though it didn't sound much like a suggestion.

“Ohhh, tempting,” she mocked, “but I already have a dancing partner.” Needlessly, she inclined her head behind her to where Snart was standing, eyes serious while he watched the events unfold.

Meanwhile, Leonard was glaring daggers at the man that had cut their dance short. Well, as much glaring as a consciousness could do, anyway. At least he'd managed to change something, and that boded well for whatever he'd try to change in the future… or the past. Technically the present. Ugh, time travel. His life was so much easier when all he had to worry about was the police response time to the crime scenes.

The brute didn’t seem to care about Sara's answer as he reached out to grab a tight hold of her wrist. “Maybe you didn’t understand my request, bitch.”

Terrible decision, Leonard thought, amused at the other man's misfortune. He could feel Snart's curiosity building. He hadn't had time to look much into his teammates yet, so his past self was very interested in how Sara would handle the situation.

She clicked her tongue. “I really don’t like that word,” she muttered, pursing her lips in mock disappointment. Then, in a flash, she had the man’s wrist twisted and probably sprained, if not broken. He yelled, stepping away from her to reach for a bottle at the bar. 

Sara glanced over her shoulder, raising a hand to tell Mick and Snart to stay put. “I got this.”

The fight happened exactly how Leonard remembered it, and he could feel his past self’s admiration for Sara grow as they watched her kick man after man to their asses. When all of her opponents got up at once, she turned around to Snart and Mick to invite them into the fight.

Leonard felt much like a spectator in the fight; like those rowdy fans that think yelling at the television will make their team play better. Except, somehow, his past self seemed to be taking his instructions in stride. Duck, dodge right, punch.

He didn’t see the fist coming from his left, and as it connected to his past self’s jaw, Leonard’s world went white.