A/N So... at the end of October, my entire street ended up losing power for a week, so, because I had no way to work on any of my ongoing stories, and I ended up writing this in my notebook. It's complete, three chapters, but so far, I've only got this one typed up and edited. I'm in the process of preparing chapter two. It will likely be up by Saturday.

Anyways, credit where credit is due, this story was largely inspired by a story in the Flash fandom: Your Worst Nightmare by CG07, which is responsible for my current need to see the more caring side of Snart in fanfiction (and I definitely recommend it-with the warning that it is dark). Hence, the reason why I wrote this: to see a more caring Snart. Because there's a heart in there for sure. That's just about the only thing these stories have in common, though.

Disclaimer: Legends of Tomorrow and characters belong to DC comics and the CW.

"Shut up!"

Snart saw the punch coming far before the Idiot did.

Therefore, having been taken by surprise, the Idiot was left unable to react in time.

Snart himself would have dodged, would have blocked, would have braced himself, taken the hit with his dignity intact.

Ray, however, went down like a brick, sporting a bruised jaw and an even more injured pride.

"Keep your mouth shut, Raymond," Snart warned, eyes never leaving the man in front of them, nor the dangerous looking weapon (some kind of high-tech device-not quite like his Cold Gun, but similar. He didn't have the faintest idea what it did though. Nor did he feel like finding out.) he waved at the two of them. "You'll be more likely to get out of this in one piece."

There were three men standing before them. Snart found it prudent that his attention be centered on the one who was more of a threat, currently the man holding sci-fi ray gun a mere few feet away from them.

"Yes, Raymond," the gun holder parroted. "Listen to your friend.

Ray grunted, wiping blood from his chin, and climbed unsteadily to his feet.

"Your friends think they can steal from us?" the man demanded angrily. "Where are they?"

"Sorry," Snart said, completely unapologetic. He smirked. "It's just us."

"Want me to hit you too?"
"You can, but it's not going to bring you the answers you want."

The man stared at him several minutes longer, looking like he was seriously considering punching Snart too.

Then, he settled back on his heels, a satisfied smile taking over his features.

"No," he said, "but your team will come back for you. If Rip Hunter is half the man I've heard tell of, then I'll come for you."

"And if he does," Ray said, speaking more carefully now. Something Snart decided to give him credit for, "what makes you think he'll just hand over what you want?"

"Because," the man answered, "it will be your lives he's gambling with. So pray that he does."

Snart cursed internally.

If the team came for them (and they would. The lot was sentimental that way), then they'd be handing over exactly what this man wanted.

They were in a cell.. Very similar to the one on board the Waverider, Rip was noticing. He considered the possibility that maybe this was an earlier design.

"Look at it this way," Ray was saying. Snart wondered if he actually thought he had somethign useful to say or if he was just trying to convince himself, "he's underestimating them. Rip will never give him what he wants. Not with the world at stake. The team comes, he's not going to know what hit him. And if they don't, well… two lives are a small price to pay when the world's at stake."

"Something tells me this man knows how to play his cards right," Snart said. He ignored the more morose portion of Ray's statement. He'd never been one to dwell on the downside of things. And neither was Ray if he'd judged Pretty Boy right. "And he's got the perfect pawns in play." He pointed two fingers at Ray, pantomiming a gun. "Because he's right about one thing: Rip's not going to leave us behind." He didn't even need to mention the rest of the team.

Ray didn't argue his point. "You make it sound like attachments are a liability."

"They are when the fate of the world's at stake." Ray didn't miss how Snart used his exact phrasing from before.

"When did you start caring about the fate of the world?"

Something in the way he voiced the question gave Snart pause. Iit wasn't accusatory. It wasn't judgemental.

Which was, perhaps, the only reason Snart found himself answering.

"Not much of a world left to plunder if it's been taken over by an immortal tyrant, now is there?" Snart challenged.

"I would accept that," Ray said, "except we both know Savage's takeover doesn't happen during either of our lifetimes."

Snart cocked his head, amused. "Why do you care?"

"Well, I mean, we're a team, aren't we? It's a team's job to care."

"Hate to break it to you, Pretty Boy, but the only person on my team is Mick."

Ray looked considerably frustrated. Something Snart might have taken pleasure in under different circumstances. As it was, he had other things on his mind. "There's a lot of us on your team now," he pointed out.

Snart said nothing, giving the impression that he didn't really care. In reality, he'd rather chew on that information for a while, before tossing it away.

He had to give the Idiot some credit, however. He never wanted to give up.

"I see you've been using your time well."

Ray straightened, looking slightly confused as their captor presented himself. Snart chose not to move. He gave nothing away.

The man was grinning, hands loosely held behind his back.

"Which one of you's more willing to cooperate with me?"
"What's going on?" Ray asked.

The man looked far too pleased with himself. It was the look of a man who was satisfied that everything was going according to his plan.

Snart hated that look.

"Your dear captain is working out the details for an exchange."

"Idiot," Snart muttered under his breath. Best case scenario, Rip was working out a trap. Some kind of trick.

He was confident Rip was at least trying to come up with something- after all, his determination to save his family if he could was great. He wouldn't let anything get in the way of that if he could help it.

But the man was also annoying sentimental. He had his loyalties-which was fine… Snart had his too, but he oftentimes didn't know when to prioritize.

He was almost positive now was one of those times.

"Apparently, it would go a long way towards convincing him if he could hear one of you himself." His smile never dulled. "Which one of you boys wants to say 'hello?'"

Snart glared at him, daring him to try.

The man's eyes roved over the two of them, calculating. They finally settled on Ray.

"What about you?" he asked. Ray stiffened. Snart didn't react. "You like to talk. Why don't you put that mouth of yours to work?"

The man motioned his companions forward.

"It will go easier on you if you comply," the man advised. His first companion pressed his hand up against a panel embedded in the wall, and the transparent door of their prison faded away.

Snart was impressed.

He could only imagine how the Idiot felt.

The first man stepped over the threshold, gun trained on Snart.

When Snart didn't move, his attention shifted to Ray. Evidently, he had written him off as a threat.

His mistake.

Pride does come before the fall after all. One of Snart's teachers had said that… before he'd ditched school that is.

And their friend here was an arrogant bastard if he'd ever seen one. That would just serve to be his own undoing.

The second man stepped in…

...and that was when Snart made his move.

He lunged forward, twisting the gun out of the lackey's grasp before the man could fully bring it up to aim at him.

Snart had intended to take it, to use it for himself and get them both out of here. (Yes, both of them. Maybe he wasn't as completely adverse to sentiment as he liked to make out.)

The gun slipped out of his grasp, knocked away by the punch the man threw at him, sliding across the floor.

Out of reach.

The first man turned his attention away from Ray, aiming his own weapon at Snart.

Snart twisted the second man in front of him, using him as a human shield so that the charge from the first's gun hit him square in the chest.

The man jerked in his arms, going limp, and Snart let him slump to the floor.

He didn't care if the man was alive or dead.

Maybe his body armor had saved him.

Maybe it hadn't.

Snart didn't have the understanding of their weapons tech to know for sure.

He didn't care.

Ray had taken a shot at the first man, grappling with him at the other end of the cell.

Snart moved to step in.

"Stop!"

Snart didn't know why he listened, why he turned around, but there was something in the voice that was not to be trifled with.

Snart never used that term lightly.

Their captor had drawn what looked very much to be a modern day (and didn't the whole time travel thing bring up questions as to what exactly modern day was) handgun, with a few well placed LEDS on the sides for show, that Snart was sure was much more likely to be similar to the future tech revolver Rip used.

Behind him, three more of his men stood, weapons drawn. He must have called for backup.

The "handgun," however, was aimed directly at Snart's heart.

"I'd put your hands up if I were you."

A/NThank you so much for reading! I'll see you soon with the next chapter!