First rule of time travel—don’t get too involved and definitely don’t leave a mess. The mission was always: get in, fix whatever needs fixing, and get the hell out. Normally, Sara was real good about that, but sometimes, sometimes the rules needed to be bent, just a little. I mean, how's a girl supposed to keep it together every single time she jumps to a new era and spots a cute woman who’d never even know what it’s like to be with another woman if Sara didn’t show her? Consider it Sara’s small contribution to history.

Normally, those little escapades were no-strings, easy emotional exits. Made disappearing into thin air a lot easier, especially without explaining she’s actually a time-traveling superhero. But that last trip to the Wild West in the 1800s? That was, different.

She met you—a pretty little waitress in the saloon where the Legends were camped out. Not that Sara was proud of it- alright, maybe she kinda was. But during that week, she spent nearly every night with you at your place, dodging your parents and showing you a world far beyond your imagination. You were so open, so full of wonder, and for once, she felt something shift. When it was time to leave, she didn’t think twice—until the last night when you said some of the sweetest goddamn things to her, and now, she felt like an asshole for ghosting. You didn’t deserve that—none of them did, but right now, it was just about you.

Frustrated one "night" aboard the Waverider, Sara made the dumbest, most impulsive move. She took a time pod back to your time. She aimed for a few days after she’d left—just to play it safe. When she saw you in the saloon again, it hit her. Harder than expected. Sara took your arm, led you out back, somewhere private, and spilled everything.

“So, that’s the whole deal—I didn’t mean to hurt you if I did, not at all. It’s just, the job, this life I live. But you can’t tell anyone, seriously. I’m practically begging you here. If I could explain it better, I would, but hell, even I don’t understand half of it.”