#in case you haven’t noticed I’ve been getting into Wally west recently

[televisionlassie]

Me watching people pretend Wally west (and sometimes Roy)’s children don’t exist so that they can be Dick/Jason’s boyfriend

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 13

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 13 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————

Mick has been driving himself spare trying to investigate the attempts to kill Len of the past few months, and it’s starting to show in the way he broods over the topic any time there’s a moment to do so.

"At least whoever’s behind it haven't made any new tries recently," Len offers on the drive home from STAR Labs, where they’d dropped Jax off for a day of what Team Flash called ‘orientation’ and Len called ‘Caitlin running baseline tests while Cisco shows off their cool villain archives and tries to think of a decent villain name while Barry is at work’. Jax finally managed to finish the extended summer hours he promised to put in at the autoshop this week, so he’s ready to start getting involved in the Rogues at last. Besides, the delay meant that Len’s leg is fully healed by now. "The last one was all the way back on Black Hole Day. That’s something, ain’t it?"

"People don't order assassins – "

"Amateur assassins at best – "

"People don't order any type of assassins and then stop, Len," Mick replies. "There's something we're missing."

"I'm sure," Len says. "But we’ve been over it half a dozen times. I don’t know what else you think we can do.”

“If we sent out the ghosts –”

“To do what?” Len asks practically. “The ghosts are useful, but only to a certain degree, and only when they’re given orders. You know most of them aren’t stable enough to focus on a serious search like this.”

“I know, I know. S’why I’ve only been using the good ones. But –”

“Mick. If there was something I could think of, some angle, I would. But I don’t know why they started, and I don’t know why they stopped, either – and I don’t know why they shifted over to wanting me alive, either.”

“Assuming they didn’t always,” Mick grumbles. “Goddamn amateurs. I went back and double-checked, by the way – they were using Santini guns and bullets, every single time. Even that usher in the theater; I checked the bullet casings and there’s no doubt.”

“So we're back to thinking it was a frame-up job?”

“Guess it has to be. Why someone intent on framing a Family would only hire amateurs, though, I don’t know.”

“Maybe the goal is to have us go up against the Santinis, cause them trouble?”

“Nah. Even the Santinis have been answering our questions since we explained the whole hired killer thing; the Dons seem to be taking it as a personal insult that someone’s been handing out their guns.”

“Of course that’s what they care about,” Len says, shaking his head. From his perspective, he’s worried about the issue enough; there's nothing good ruminating on it further would do. They just have to wait for the next attempt, and that's that. “Anyway, to change the subject, I was thinking, for the Rogues, might be worth it to have a good getaway man."

"Thought that's why we had Jax?"

"He's only one guy, and you don't let me drive anymore," Len reminds Mick.

Mick shrugs. "If the unquiet dead attack you one more time while you’re behind the wheel, you'll lose your license for epilepsy anyway. I'm just preempting it."

"My license is fake, Mick."

"Consider me your DMV, then. How many people in your family history do you want to bet died of falling off their horses, huh?"

"Horses – "

"Don't knock horses. Horses are scary."

“Mick. Why are we talking about horses?” Len asks, because honestly he has no idea when that happened. It’s not that he disagrees – there was an incident when he was younger, when Lisa got it in her head that she wanted to go horseback riding and they’d been scared off by the sheer size of the beasts – but seriously, how had the horses entered the conversation?

“Because you won’t tell me the real reason you want to recruit someone new.”

Len groans. "I want someone else on the Rogues that's closer to Jax's age. You happy now?"

"See, that's a good reason. Who were you thinking?"

"Webber. He could use the money, and he's a speed demon."

Mick hums thoughtfully, then turns on the wrong exit to go home, but the right exit to take them over to Keystone – and the drag racing tracks.

"I'll take that as a yes," Len says, satisfied.

They find Webber counting up his cash at the end of a race, no car in sight, and looking anxious, which isn't an uncommon sight these days.

"Hey, WWW," Len says, leaning out of the car window. "How's the mom?"

Webber looks up, with a wry smile. "Still sick," he says. "But better. Not so much nausea anymore. Tell me you've got a won't-go-wrong job that needs a driver."

"Better," Len says. "How do you feel about trying to out-race a speedster through skill alone?"

Webber's eyes all but glow with excitement. "I can't afford to get arrested for it," he warns, because he sometimes remembers to be level-headed. "And I need money, not just speed."

"Cut of our profits or a flat fee each time, whatever's bigger," Len says. "You wear a mask, and the Flash has promised to make sure you don't get tossed in the clink if you obey a certain set of rules – no killing people, best efforts to hurt anyone, pick the targets carefully, that sort of thing. I run the show and you listen to me."

"The Flash promises? Man, I don't know what con you're running, but I want in."

"Adrenaline hog," Len says fondly. It takes one to know one. "Hop in, we'll give you a lift since you lost your keys."

"That obvious, huh? Jonesy’s crew won my ride, but I'm gonna buy it back."

"Wait till tomorrow," Mick advises. "He'll think you're not as desperate and drop the price a bit to make sure you buy it."

Webber climbs into the car. "True," he says. "But without you guys, I wouldn't have a way home otherwise, so I was desperate. Anyway, doesn’t matter now. Tell me about your newest scam."

"It's not a scam," Len objects. "It's – media managing, s'all. The real game goes on."

Webber arches his eyebrows.

"The way it works is this – "

It turns out that Jax has finished Team Flash orientation and is waiting for them back at what they’re currently using as the Rogues safehouse, which makes everything easier.

"Jax, meet Webber," Len says. "You'll be our go-to car guys, so bond. Learn each other's tricks. I want a well-oiled machine out of the two of you. Proper pumping engine."

"He knows literally nothing about cars," Webber tells Jax.

"No kidding," Jax says with a snort. "He doesn't even drive."

"I drive!" Len protests.

"Barely," both young men chorus, then smile at each other.

Len rolls his eyes. "I'm conceding the point only to encourage team morale."

"Wait, that works?" Mick asks. "I've got some other points for you to concede on – it'd certainly raise my morale – "

"No."

"My name's Jefferson Jackson," Jax tells Webber, ignoring Mick and Len. "Everyone calls me Jax."

"I think I remember you," Webber says. "Football QB for Bradley High, right? You kicked the Bobcats' ass up and down the field."

"You were a Bobcat?"

"Not on the team, but the school, yeah. I'll just apologize in advance."

"Nah, man, I'll apologize to you. That's the rowdiest school in the whole district – unless you count Holy Angels, and – "

"— no one ever counts Holy Angels," they conclude in unison with identical smirks.

Len shares bewildered glances with Mick. High school drama is something Len will never get. Real sports, even college ball, sure, but high school?

Webber sticks out a hand. "Wally West," he says. Jax shakes his hand, smiling.

"Webber, your real name is Wall-E?" Len says dubiously. "Like the robot movie?"

"No, you dweeb of a supervillain," Webber says, rolling his eyes. "As in, short for Wallace."

"Why do they call you Webber?" Jax asks.

"It's one of my racing handles in Keystone," Webber says, shaking his head. "See, my full name's actually Wallace Wickham West..."

"It is?" Len says, not without some real horror. "And here I thought Snart was bad."

"Snart is bad," Mick says, pulling out a beer from the fridge.

"I get it," Jax says, laughing. "World Wide Web, huh? WWW?"

"And from that, Webber," Webber says. "Either that or Wally’s fine. What brings you to these crazy bastards?"

"College tuition. You?"

"Mom's medical bills. I'm still hoping to scholarship my way into college."

"Tough road, man. Sorry about your mom. It bad?"

"Yeah, cancer."

"Shit. Let me tell my mom, she'll probably want to drop off a casserole. Or ten."

Webber cracks another grin. "Yeah, my mom used to do that, I know exactly what you mean. Yeah. That'd be good. A bunch of mom's friends ditched when she started getting really sick, and my dad’s not in the picture. She could use some company."

"I'll tell my mom tonight," Jax promises.

"And when you're done with that," Len says, "maybe you could go try out the cars out back and see if you think they need to be tuned up for the heist we're pulling on Friday."

"Friday? Short notice."

"Need to get the Rogues plan into action," Len says firmly. “No reason for delay.”

"Also, he's invited the Flash and Co. over for a potluck on Saturday to celebrate our new supervillain-superhero alliance and just realized how much money feeding a speedster's gonna cost," Mick says dryly. "Well. I realized, since I'm gonna be doing the feeding."

"I can't wait to actually meet the Flash," Jax says, bouncing a little, Webber nodding along.

"He's just a nerd in a red costume," Len warns them, but that doesn't seem to dim their enthusiasm one bit.

Especially not after he promises that after a few months of successful heists they’d be able to pick their own villain themes, with Cisco’s assistance.

The heist goes well enough – they get lots of publicity right next to the awful tenements near old McFeely Park, Flash lets them get away with about half the cash they'd lifted – the physical form of a wire transfer, Monsanto money being shipped in from the local farmers, and the farmers' obligations being done once they paid meant the loss was all on the corporation – and the potluck goes well, too.

Jax brings casseroles for everyone. "I have another three out back," he says to Webber, who'd brought soda. "You don’t want to know. Even my Great Aunt Josephine got in on the action when she heard the words 'speedster metabolism'. Your mom's gonna be descended on by an army, just warning you."

"She could use an army," Webber says, eyes suspiciously wet. "Thanks."

Barry brought pizza. Twenty-seven boxes of pizza.

"You're a crazy person," Webber tells him, opening one of the boxes which has the weirdest pizza toppings Len's ever seen. "But you've got great taste."

"You're all crazy," Len says. "Barry, this here's Webber – or Wally, whatever – and he's gonna be a junior Rogue, too."

"Nice to meet you," Barry says, shaking Webber's hand. "This is Caitlin Snow, her husband Ronnie Raymond, Cisco Ramon, Iris West, and my ghost-mom, Nora Allen."

"Ghost-mom?" Webber asks.

"Did Len not tell you about the ghost thing?" Iris asks. "It's a hell of a story."

"No, I just know the basics – hey, wait, you said your last name is West?"

"Yeah, Iris West."

"Cool," Webber says. "I'm Wally West."

"Nice! Last name bros!"

"Maybe we're related," Webber says. "Cousins or something. That'd be awesome – god, this is gonna be so awkward for first time meeting conversation, but my mom's sick – cancer – she needs a bone marrow transplant and I'm not compatible, so we’ve been asking people – "

"I'd be happy to get tested," Iris says immediately. "Absolutely. My mom died when I was a kid, when I was too young to really remember, so – yeah. Happy to help."

"You're awesome," Webber says happily. "I'll ask her about maybe-cousins when I next see her."

"My dad's working tonight – he's a cop and he doesn't want to officially come to hang out with criminals – but I'll ask him, too. That would be so cool; I've always wanted a little cousin!"

“Cop, huh? He come down hard on drag racing?”

“Nah,” Iris says, laughing. “He doesn’t really care; says it’s better than drugs. My fiancé – also a cop, also not attending – says it’s a bad habit, but that he’ll only arrest you if you’re racing somewhere there could be collateral casualties.”

“No problem, then. That’s not my scene…”

"Food's almost ready," Mick calls from the kitchen. "Ghosts are laying it out as we speak."

"Kind of rude not to invite them to eat if they're serving, isn't it?" Cisco asks Len.

"I'm not made of life energy," Len snipes back, then pauses. "Well, technically – "

Cisco snickers. "Wish I'd known about the ghost stuff when I named you."

"The 'Captain' bit kinda covers the 'having a group to order about' stuff. Also, how would you fit it in with the cold theme? Don’t say Chillbones."

"Don’t be so down on it, it’s a good name! Maybe – Ghost Cold?"

"Sounds like a disease."

"Yeah, I’m not feeling it. Let me think about it a bit more."

"Don't waste your brainpower. Let's discuss what we’ll be naming our Little League Rogue Squad..."

"The food looks fantastic," Caitlin tells Mick.

"Thanks," he replies. "Say, you're the doc, right?"

"Uh, yes."

"Great. I'd like to talk to you about getting some updated scans of Len's brain -"

"He's had another attack?"

"We fought it off before it got severe, but the unquiet dead are causing more problems – there's been more and more of them coming to Central as Len's power increases and since friendlies are more likely to pass on eventually, the proportion’s getting worse."

"Yes, I see the problem. When was the last time he got scanned..?"

"So you're Firestorm, huh?" Jax asks Ronnie. "That's pretty neat. You and – what's his name, the grey-haired professor?"

"We're actually hoping to find another Firestorm," Ronnie tells him. "Right now, my partner, Martin Stein – he couldn't be here tonight; his wife was attending a dinner and he went with her – he and I are bound together."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, there's a mild psychic component, but the principal thing is that we need to merge on a semi-regular basis or else, boom. But if we had a third Firestorm – not even a third one in the actual merge, just someone else capable of doing it – we think that could lighten the load. Basically, we think that might mean we could stabilize it further meaning that we wouldn't have to merge all the time – "

"I think I get it," Jax says. "Triads are more stable than pair-bonds."

"Exactly! You're into chemistry?"

"Hoping to be a mechanical engineer, actually."

"That was my major! What program were you thinking? CCU?"

"Nearest and cheapest."

"The engineering program's not shabby at all, actually; it cleans up pretty good nation-wide. Were you thinking of any specializations? Professor Babasijibomi is great – "

“I haven’t even started thinking about that, but that’s good to know…”

Len looks around the room, ghosts floating in with grins as they watch the bickering, living people chattering and eating, Cisco talking to Lisa over Skype –

All in all, things are going pretty well.

“Never ask me for another favor ever again,” Len tells Barry a month or so later. "Ever."

“You think I’m happy about this?” Barry asks, making a face. “They’re my parents. Besides, you have no place to talk, you also regularly sleep with a dead guy!”

“I’ve never given anyone life so they can have ‘released from prison’ sex,” Len says. “I feel dirty now.”

“You’re a thief.”

“This is worse.”

“…yeah,” Barry concedes, shaking his head. “So, what do you think? About Zoom and the breaches?”

“I think you’re a lot more tolerable now that you’ve stopped blaming yourself for it,” Len replies, willing to take any conversation shift away from what he just empowered Nora to do. Also, he’s right.

Barry rolls his eyes. “I still think it’s kind of my fault, since I did cause the singularity by powering up the Accelerator before deciding against going into the past, but I have accepted – how did you call it – my role as a pawn in Wells’ scheme, and now I’m working on internalizing the idea. That wasn’t what I meant, though. Jay says –”

“I don’t like him.”

“Thank you! I don’t either but everyone’s just saying that I’m being too suspicious because of the whole thing with Wells.”

“You’re being reasonable,” Len says. “Listen, at your age, a lot of people look for a mentor, and there’s a lot of people willing to take advantage of that – especially if they have access to your powers as a result.”

“Jay doesn’t need it, though,” Barry says reluctantly. “He’s the Flash on his own world.”

“So he’s a speedster?”

“…no, he lost his powers when Zoom threw him through the breach.”

Len arches his eyebrows. “A speedster who lost his speedster powers, who now wants to mentor you? Sounds a bit familiar, don’t it?”

Barry makes a face. “What do I do, though? There’s definitely an Earth-2, and this Zoom guy is definitely sending metas through to our world with orders to kill me.”

“I’ll have Mick send some of my better ghosts with you as guards,” Len decides. “Pick one to be your go-to ghost, whichever one you like best, and they can monitor the others, maybe help you keep track of this Jay guy, see what he gets up to on his own, if you know what I mean. He doesn’t know about the ghost thing yet, so that’s an advantage we have.”

Barry nods. “Thanks,” he says. “That’ll help a lot. And can’t I just use Mom?”

“If your mom keeps getting everything she’s ever wanted, she’s going to have no regrets in no time, at which point she passes on,” Len reminds Barry. “And that’s a good thing. You want her to pass on.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Barry sighs. “I’ll pick someone, then, and have Mom train them up; that’ll give us a bit more time with her.”

“She worries about you,” Len says. “But passing on is really the best thing for ghosts. They all seem to really like it, even the unquiet ones.”

“So we’ll keep an eye on Jay,” Barry says. “That makes me feel better already, actually. Trust but verify.”

“I’m also going to assign the Junior Squad to cover you with these new metas,” Len decides. “A few minor confrontations the next few weeks – they can plan them out themselves with you over texts – give you some eyes on the outside.”

Barry nods. “What about you? Any word on the Santini thing?”

“Not a peep, but then again, no new murder attempts, either. I’m taking it as a win.”

“Mick isn’t,” Barry says knowingly.

Len sighs. “Yeah, well, can’t have everything. You go figure out this Zoom business. Say, have you considered checking this Garrick’s story?”

“Checking it? What do you mean?”

“Set Cisco and Stein on figuring out a way to get you to Earth-2 and back and check the guy’s story. You know, credentials, birth certificate, shit like that. And while you’re there, well, maybe you can find Zoom before he finds you.”

“They’re already working on stabilizing the breaches to get Jay home,” Barry says, brightening. “And if I take the fight to Zoom –”

“Less collateral damage here,” Len says, nodding. “Let me know if you need help; we can team up to fight off the outsider.” He taps his cold gun. “I specialize in speedsters, after all.”

“Thanks,” Barry says sincerely, hopping up. “I’ll let you know.”

With a crackle of lightning and a gust of wind, he’s gone.

Shaking his head in amusement, Len texts the new instructions to Jax and Wally – they’ve done a handful of heists with him now, they should be ready to strike out on their own, especially with Barry’s willing assistance – and contemplates, for the first time in quite a while, a more or less entirely free weekend.

More or less.

“Hey, boss,” Mick says, coming through the door. “We still hitting the cashier’s cage at the racetrack tomorrow?”

“Indeed we are,” Len says. “Let’s go pick up Lisa at the train station, treat her to dinner. Tomorrow’s going to be back to the basics, family only.”

“Good,” Mick says. “We could use something nice and simple.”

Maybe they were just tempting fate, saying something like that, because the cashier’s cage went sweet and easy, no problem, but a parked van’s doors snapping open and people in dark masks swinging batons and smashing them down on their heads is an entirely unexpected twist.

Len sees Lisa go down, hears Mick yelling, and lunges forward, only to hear a crackle of electricity – similar, yet subtly different from the Flash’s – and then everything goes dark.

Len hates tasers.

He wakes up –

He’s not sure where he is. The trunk of a car, judging by the way he’s been stuffed inside and the bumping and shaking as they drive. A car, not the van from earlier.

It’s strangely quiet.

All of his joints hurt, electricity having done them no good, and his head hurts, too. His head especially, actually; the back of the skull feels like he got bashed instead of shocked.

He’s not bound, which is perhaps the most surprising part.

It’s quiet.

Len’s not sure why he keeps thinking that. The road keeps rattling, there’s a ringing in his ears…

It’s still too quiet.

The car shudders to a halt.

There’s a slammed door.

Footsteps.

Len tenses, waiting to see what would greet him when the trunk opened – to make the split-second decision whether to leap out aggressively or to hang back, make a few snide remarks, and find out what whoever-it-is knows and wants before attacking.

The trunk is popped open.

And then –

All of Len’s muscles seize up at once, the memory of old terrors hitting him straight in the gut.

“Hello, son,” Lewis says.