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“Care for a dance Leonard?”
Len looked up from his drink to gaze at a playful Sara Lance, her eyes sparkling mischievously. He downed the shot in his hand and with a smirk, took her hand, letting her lead him onto the floor.
The sultry rhythm of soft jazz wandered through Angel’s Bar, the warm lighting reminiscent of the first time they had met, and she had asked for a dance. He wasn’t going to pass up that chance now, especially on a mission. Len turned her around and smoothly placed his hands around her waist. In turn, she put her hands on his shoulders.
Sara was wearing a shimmering gray dress, her hair twisted in a traditional 60’s updo, to blend into the laughing agents around them, all fancied up in suits and dresses. Len didn’t have to look at them to know they were hiding guns underneath their corsets.
Neither of them spoke for the first minute. They didn’t need to, around each other.
“Come on now, isn’t this guy your favourite?” Sara’s brow raised and nodded toward the jukebox machine. Len lifted his head. He recognized it as Louis Armstrong’s work, but he was more keen on the man in the corner, hat tipped to cover his face.
“How would you know who’s my favourite?”
“You think I wouldn’t hear you playing jazz at 3 in the morning when you can’t sleep?”
Len shook his head, turning them around so they could get a better scope of the assassin. “It brings back good memories. Do you think I don’t hear you playing Nirvana?”
“Got me there Len.”
He quite liked the way she said his name.
“Do you think the team’s having luck?” He asked, to get his mind off assassins and Sara’s eyes.
“Rip would have called us. We just have to keep the peace here; make sure Savage doesn’t intend to use Angel’s for servants. Especially Vanek. Whoever that is.”
Len closed his eyes and tilted his head up. “Don’t know about you, but I’m ready to be done with fighting that maniac.”
Sara snorted, leading them down to the other side of the room, where the man was. Her heels clicked on the creaky wooden floor. “We all do.”
But then she fell quiet, and he knew she was thinking about something. Her eyebrows were worried and she was subtly biting her inner cheek.
“What is it?” He asked, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the assassin move to the bar counter.
“No, it’s nothing, it’s just…” Sara leaned in closer to him as a couple shoved past them. Her hands rested on his suit, and he felt a thump thump in his chest as she gripped onto his shirt. “What will you do when this is all over?”
“With Vandal?”
She nodded, averting her gaze to the floor. She was so close to him. He could smell the scent of rose-gold perfume in her hair.
“I,” He thought about it for a second. “I don’t know. Probably go back to my life in Central City. Take down the Flash a couple more times, drink some booze, make my own team.”
“Got it all planned out?” She shook her head, and pushed back from him, going back to their dance, and her scent drifted away with the wind.
“Well, what about you? Would you go back to the mountains or visit your dear sister in Star City?” His lips quirked as he led her back to the bar.
She didn’t pick up his banter and instead bit her cheek again. “Yeah.” She said unconvincingly, but before he could say anything, she busied herself by fixing his crooked tie.
“Couldn’t quite reach up there.” He explained, and allowed her to.
“You should have asked me.” She mumbled, her hands smoothing over his shirt again. He breathed in sharply, and as they locked eyes, he quickly averted his gaze over her head, to look for the man with the hat.
Sara hesitated, then tilted his head back down to meet her gaze. Her eyes were like the Atlantic. He was lost, and he was drifting out to shore, and then she was leaning in but their lips didn’t touch.
The gentle music softened as they were suspended in time. The golden dust swirled in the room and the scent of beer lingered in the air.
Then someone laughed rowdily, shattering a glass to the floor and they were back on their guard. The crook and the assassin, cold and looking for their next mission.
“Twenty-seven assassins, all in the same room. What could go wrong?” She sighed.
Len’s brow furrowed as he looked around, counting in his head. “There’s twenty-six–”
“I included myself.” She said breezily, taking his hand and spinning herself around, her dress blooming like a flower.
“Fair. But you’re not here to maim the entirety of Brooklyn.” He lifted his hand to help her momentum, then caught her body, steadying her as they continued to dance.
Len was surprised when Sara met his gaze, eyes darkened. “I could. My bloodlust could take over. I could become one of them easily.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that, Len.”
“I know you .”
Her breath caught. They were silent again, dim light painting her face in shades of gold before she was turning away from him, walking away to the barstool, away, away, away from Len.
He slowly closed his eyes, breathed in, and turned. Right. He needed to find the man with the hat. He was still sitting on a barstool, eyes glinting with madness as he drank his beer. He saw the knife in his pocket. His tie was askew. He was dangerous.
Len looked back at Sara, who was already sitting at the bar and chatting up the sweet waitress at the counter, a rosy blush coating the poor girl’s cheeks. He could spare a moment.
He sidled up to the man, his hands in his pockets. “Nice hat. Where’d you buy it?”
The man barely looked up. “Stitched it myself. Go away.”
“Ooh, friendly.” He said sarcastically, and leaned against the counter, trying to examine him. “So, what brings you around Angel’s Bar?”
“The reasons everyone comes around Angel’s Bar.” His voice was gravel. Stone against stone. But Len still couldn’t see his face, shadowed by his hat.
“People come to Angel’s Bar to get laid or to kill someone. I’m having trouble reading you on which option you’re going for.” He said, an air of flirtation in his voice to get the man’s attention.
The man finally turned to him, and he could just make out his dark beard and the trace of a scar on his cheek. “I’m not interested.”
“In sex or murder?”
“You.” He spun his beer with one hand, subtly telling him to get out of his face. Len pushed his patience, and he was planning on continuing.
“Who’s your target?” He asked and the man lifted his face, the light finally shining down on him.
He had a scar on his left cheek and his right eye missing from its socket, a slick white cloth plastered on it. Len raised his eyebrows.
“I see. Whoever hurt you.”
“Now you tell me, boy. Why are you around Angel’s Bar, and why are you bothering me?”
His gaze instinctively went to Sara, who was still flirting with the waitress, downing a shot of alcohol. Her hair was sparkling in the distance.
“Ah, I see too.” The man pursed his lips and placed his hands on the counter. “Won’t turn out well.”
“How would you know?” He said suspiciously.
Shrugging, the man took a sip from his beer. “You look at her like you would die for her. That’s a scary thing.”
Len let the words flip around in his brain and then threw them out, annoyed. He crossed his arms. “I don’t die for anyone. Now, who’s your target? And what’s your name?”
He drank his beer, tipping his head back. His hat was about to fall off when he slammed his glass down, a clink emitting from the impact. He licked his lips and sighed, pushing his stool back. “Vanek. My target is none of your business.” He said, before walking away.
Alarm bells rang inside Len’s mind. Especially Vanek. He needed to make sure Vandal didn’t use this man. He walked towards Sara, pushing past another man.
“It’s only nine, darling. Not even one dance?” Sara was saying, her voice like honey and a river running downstream.
“I–I must serve the next customer. I can’t.” The girl looked apologetic and a little flustered, but the moment she saw Len approach, she scurried back to her patrons.
Sara sighed, her back to him. “What? I was having a lovely conversation. And getting some intel.”
“You were intimidating. And flirting.”
“I saw you chatting up the man over there. What’s the difference?”
“He’s the target Savage wants to use. Vanek.” The name was foreign on his lips, as he pronounced the ‘k’. “We have to tell the others.”
Wordlessly nodding, she pushed back and stood, smoothing her gray dress and brushing past him to the door. Something in Len itched to pull her back into his arms and continue dancing. He stared up at the ceiling and then clenched his fists. The team would be fine for a few more minutes, wouldn’t they? And this way, they could keep an eye on Vanek without being too close.
“Stay.” He said. A single word, that strangled in the back of his throat before he pushed it out, or else it would just choke him.
Sara stopped walking, her back turned to him. Shapeless bodies danced around them, but it felt like the world had closed into just the crook and the assassin.
“I don’t know if I can.”
He had a feeling she wasn’t talking about the mission.
“Why not? It’ll be okay. The team will be okay. It’s just you and me.”
“It won’t be just you and me forever.” She whispered, barely audible that he had to step closer to hear her. “Len, what do you think happens after we defeat Savage? You go home to your crime-fighting life, Ray goes back to making some robots, Jax and Stein go back to their families…where will I go?”
“You can go back to your family–”
“And risk hurting one of them? I’m already a monster Snart. This team was supposed to help me.” She said helplessly, motioning with her hands. “Kendra was trying to help me. I almost hurt her the other day, and then when I tried to take it back, she ran away. She ran away from me. God, she wouldn’t even look at me at dinner.”
“It was a mistake, I’m sure the hawk-girl won’t hold a grudge.” He said, more harshly than he should. “You will have a place to go after this is all over.”
“Maybe so,” She breathed in and formed two fists. “But I will always be a monster .”
Len touched her shoulder, and she reared back as if she was burned. “Is that really what you believe?” His hands moved from her shoulder to her hands, and he uncurled them. She was shaking. He held her hands until she stopped.
Her body was tense. “I don’t know.”
He rubbed his thumb against her palm, feeling the tiny scar that she had gotten from accidentally cutting herself with a dagger.
He knew her well enough to know she never accidentally did anything with a dagger.
“When this is over, you could have a place with me. Mick won’t mind. We’re a team, remember?”
“No. No, when this is over I won’t see any of you again.” She said without missing a beat, and this , Len thought, this was too far.
He curled their fingers together. “Oh? It’s that easy?”
“You’re better off,” Sara said. “Maybe you’ll be sad a little, but you’ll forget me soon enough. You’ll be fine.”
Len was silent for a long while, and Sara was still tense, waiting for him to answer. Finally, he exhaled. “I’ll miss our card games.”
He led her back to the corner of the room, slowly, their hands intertwined. “And our late-night talks. And dancing.”
“We’ve never danced.” A ghost of a smile crossed her face.
“We do now.” He dipped her, holding her gently. “And you playing pranks on Jax. And your laugh.”
Sara kept avoiding his gaze, but he held it, soft yet so piercing. He raised her up, and tucked a strand of her blond hair over her ear. “Please. Look at me.”
She did.
“You’re not the person you think you are, Sara Lance.”
She looked away, her eyes on the door. And so then Len realized, that she never planned on returning to Rip Hunter and the Legends.
But then she looked back, her eyes broken and hollow. “Would you let me have one last dance?”
His hand wavered in the air, and she took it.
And so they dance, swaying as the light swirled around everyone but themselves.
Sara pressed her forehead against his shoulder.
“Is it selfish of me to leave?” She asked.
“Is it selfish of me to make you stay?” She winced at that.
The song slowed. They were still holding each other, and Len could see Vanek shaking his head at them from the corner, but he could see the sadness in his eyes. And then the words tumbled out, “I would die for you.”
She breathed in sharply, her hands resting on his chest. His heart raced. “I would die for you too.”
“Then could you live for me?” Len’s eyes were desperate. “Could you try?”
Sara met his gaze, trembling, sad, but there was a stubborn streak of hope there. That was what he was clinging onto.
“I can try.” She whispered back.
Len pulled back. The dance ended, with the crackling of their comms.
“Finally! That was not working for so long. Hope you both didn’t die while the tech was offline. Wait, I guess I shouldn’t say that. Did you find Vanek?” Ray’s excited voice floated through their ears, and they exchanged glances. Len gave her a halfhearted smile.
Sara returned it, just for a second, but the image of her genuine smile burned bright in his mind, everything blurring away until all that remained were her eyes, silently weeping like the Atlantic.