#leonard will never know how much of an impact they had on barry allen and why he let a criminal into his life so easily

[coldinpants]

So... What about Leonard Snart, who openly cares about his Rogues? He doesn't care about most people on this planet, but his little partners in crime deserve love and respect!

Imagine Leonard arranging a funeral for Mark's brother because Mardon didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him properly.

Leonard listens to a drunken Hartley crying loudly over his homophobic parents, and the next day the Rogues abruptly change their plans and rob the Rathaway mansion.

Leonard helps Shawna get out of her toxic relationship with her boyfriend by using examples from his past.

Leonard, who takes Mick to the psychiatrist and makes sure he takes his pills correctly and on time.

Leonard paints Lisa's toenails and listens intently as she complains about her problems and supports her emotionally by calling all the antagonists of her stories assholes.

And the Rogues appreciate and deeply respect their leader in return.

[achangeinpriorities]

Prompt: Len betrayed Barry with Sara during his journey with the Legends. Barry and Leonard had been married for a year. One night Mick is drunk he says this phrase "Snart, how was sex with Sara?", Unfortunately Barry was there and he heard everything. They quarrel and divorce. In the end they try to start over and be a couple again ... but Barry will hate Sara Lance forever!

Hullo anon! I don’t think I’ve ever done a cheating fic before, so I’m sorry if this is a bit rubbish. Once again, cross-posted to AO3 for anyone who prefers it there (link here). Here you go:

Len hasn’t felt this kind of excitement—this kind of challenge—since first meeting the Flash. He’s intrigued, of course he is, and that’s his downfall. The fact that Sara flirts as readily with him as he does with her only makes matters worse.

They have one night—one wild, mildly painful, exquisite night that starts with sparring and ends with Leonard pinned down on his bed. When all is done, Sara curls on top of him like a cat and falls asleep. Leonard lets her, mostly because he doesn’t want to be beaten up for waking her.

He sleeps poorly. Sometime around one in the morning, the full impact of what he’s done hits him and he has to restrain himself from shoving Sara off the bed in disgust. (He’s not upset with her, not truly. He’s disgusted with himself.)

“Shouldn’t have put a ring on me,” he whispers into the darkness.

The next day, he freezes Sara out as effectively as he’s ever frozen out anyone who’s gotten too close. Mick notices, because unfortunately Mick notices a lot more than he admits, but the others take it for his customary rudeness. Well, Leonard amends, Rip might know. He’s nosy that way, and Leonard wouldn’t put it past him to have Gideon report on illicit goings-on.

This suspicion is confirmed partway through the day when Rip takes him aside, folds his arms, and demands, “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No.” Leonard feigns interest in an old map to avoid having to meet Rip’s eyes. “I need to make it clear to Sara that it won’t happen again. Beyond that, no, it won’t impact our working relationship.”

Rip raises an eyebrow. “There aren’t rules against fraternization on my ship. Lord knows it makes everything easier if there are, but that seems hypocritical, given how I fared when faced with such restrictions.”

Leonard glares at him. “I thought you knew everything about everyone you brought on board. I’m married.”

Rip’s eyes widen and his mouth drops into a comical ‘o’ of surprise. “Oh,” he murmurs. “No. That’s…not in any records.”

“Well, no, it wasn’t.” At Leonard’s insistence, and somewhat reluctantly, Stein had performed the ceremony. Beyond that, they took no legal steps; Leonard hadn’t wanted to jeopardize his husband’s future. (Being married to a thief tends to close otherwise promising doors.)

“Gideon,” Rip appeals to the computer, “did you know about this?”

Leonard has never heard Gideon sound so disapproving. “I did,” she replies, “given that he married my creator, Barry Allen.”

Rip gapes at him in a mix of shock and horror. Leonard has never felt smaller or more repulsive. He does what he always does in such situations: he lashes out. “That’s right. I just cheated on the Flash. What kind of monster does that make me?”

“Human,” Rip says simply.

Leonard leaves without a backwards glance. He lied to Rip. He’s not repulsive for cheating on the Flash, although by most people’s standards that of itself is an unforgivable crime; he’s the lowest kind of scum for cheating on Barry, the relentless optimist who forced him to be a better person and who, should he ever find out, will probably try to convince him that they can recover from this, too. He vows then that the kid can never know. He can’t face his earnest attempts to make it right.

 ***

After defeating Vandal Savage and the Time Masters with some help from an ex-Time Master and his daughter, the Legends return to their own time victorious. The others celebrate. Alone of them, Leonard dreads the return. What exactly is he going to tell Barry?

As soon as the Wave Rider touches down, the others bolt for the door. Leonard lingers, trying to find the courage to face the excited speedster he knows will be waiting for him. Then a cool voice speaks from behind him.

“Mr. Snart, I do not usually stoop to threats, but if you hurt my creator and you ever step foot onto my ship again, I will make your life hell.”

Threats from a computer program. This is what Leonard’s life has come to. “Duly noted, Gideon.”

By the time he leaves the Wave Rider, their welcome party has turned into a real party. He spots Sara reuniting with her sister and Oliver, Stein embracing Clarissa, Jax and Ronnie clasping hands, and Cisco batting Mick away from a vial of disturbingly crimson liquid. His observations are cut short by a familiar blur of scarlet that speeds into his arms. “Len!”

“Barry.” Leonard feels so thoroughly disgusting that he can barely bring himself to hug his husband. Barry notices, of course, but he takes it the wrong way.

“You’re tired, of course you are, you’ve been jumping all through time and Sara said you almost got blown up and do you want me to run you home? Or do you wanna stay? Do you want cuddles or should I back off?”

They should go home. The longer they’re around the rest of the Legends, the greater the probability someone will let something slip. Leonard is about to say so when Cisco calls, “Barry, bring your…Snart…and get down here!”

Against his will, Leonard finds himself coaxed down the walkway and led into the middle of the party. Barry cuddles him insistently, although Leonard doubts he’s aware of it; he’s simply too tactile not to. He forces himself not to pull away. Barry wants to be touched, to be held close, to be loved. After what Leonard has done, fulfilling these wishes seems like the least he can do.

They’re in the middle of a fascinating exchange with Thea when Mick wanders over, reeking of alcohol. “Hey Snart,” he rumbles. “Just overheard Sara and her sister. When were you gonna tell me you slept with her?”

The room goes still and breathless. Barry turns to him, a question in his eyes, desperate to be told that Mick is confused. Leonard can’t give him that.

“No,” Barry says when the silence has stretched too long. “No, no, no, no, no, Len, say something, say he misheard…”

Every guilt-induced nightmare Leonard has had to this point pales in comparison to the look of abject horror on Barry’s face. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch the impact of his words. “He didn’t, Barry. I slept with Sara during the mission.”

Barry makes a wounded sound as though Leonard has struck him. When Leonard glances at him, he’s leaning against Thea for support. She’s glaring daggers at him, and he braces himself for a well-deserved reprimand when unexpected trumpets sound from their right.

“Ah!” Cisco jumps, scrabbles at his pocket, and mutes his phone. Every eye turns to him. He stares at the ground, gives a sheepish mutter of “I have to…I’m just gonna…go, now,” and skulks away. As he passes Leonard, he mutters, “By the way, I’m going to kill you.”

Leonard nods in curt acknowledgment of the threat but doesn’t turn his attention from Barry. “There’s nothing I can say,” he murmurs.

Barry draws in a shaky breath. “We’re not doing this here.”

That’s Leonard’s only warning before he finds himself at home. The world spins around him and he lurches violently to the left. Before, Barry has always steadied him with a hand on his arm or his waist. This time, he watches impassively as Leonard leans against the counter for balance.

“I’m sorry,” Leonard manages. “I know it’s not nearly enough…”

“No, it’s not!” Barry bursts out. He looks up at the ceiling. Leonard can’t tell whether he’s on the verge of tears or simply too frustrated to look anywhere else. When he speaks, his voice breaks. “You cheated on me?”

Leonard feels obligated to say, “Don’t blame Sara. It was my fault.”

“I know that!” Barry’s voice hitches on a sob. Before Leonard can apologize again (and oh, God, how he wants to), he clears his throat and tries again. “I don’t blame Sara, she didn’t know, it’s on you for saying yes—oh no, no, wait, you said yes, didn’t you?”

Leonard scoffs. Even now, faced with indisputable evidence of how self-centered and cold he is, Barry can’t help trying to give him an out. “She didn’t force me, Scarlet. I said yes and I kept saying yes.” Admitting as much aloud is rubbing salt into both of their wounds. Leonard nonetheless feels he owes it to Barry to lay the whole sordid affair bare.

“Why?” Barry bursts out. He drops his gaze from the ceiling to Leonard’s face, and Leonard sees tears shining on his lashes. “Are you that desperate that you couldn’t wait for me? Am I not enough? What did I do wrong that made you not want to wait for me?”

Leonard’s heart shatters. No, Barry can’t think this is his fault. “It wasn’t you. I’m selfish and shortsighted and Sara was there, and I didn’t think about how it would hurt you until it was done.” His instinct is to push until Barry snaps, because he can handle anger and it��ll be better for the kid to realize that there’s nothing to fix. He’s just not strong enough to be cruel when faced with Barry’s heartbroken pleading. “I don’t have a defense. What I did was cruel and it hurt you and it hurt her, and all I can say is that I’ve hated myself so fucking much since it happened.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Barry says in a broken whisper. Leonard reaches out to him out of habit, desperate to hold him. He shies away. “I can’t, I can’t. I need to just…I need to not be here right now.”

Leonard doesn’t stop him. After what he’s done, how can he?

***

Miraculously, Leonard manages to avoid the STAR Labs crew and the rest of the Legends for a week. On the eighth day, he returns to his house and finds Barry standing uneasily in the kitchen.

“Barry,” he says in surprise. He hadn’t thought, after what he did, that Barry would want anything to do with him.

“Don’t, don’t talk.” Barry holds up both hands. “I scripted for this all week and I’ve got to say it or I’m gonna lose my nerve. Okay.” He draws a deep breath and relaxes into a not-quite-easy stance. “I’m really, really upset that you slept with Sara knowing that I was here waiting for you. I’m not so upset that I can’t forgive you, but I’m going to need time—and no jokes about time travel from you because that’ll just piss me off more. I wanna move back in and I want things to go back to normal but I don’t…” The determination drains from him. He looks small and weary and hopelessly lost. “I don’t know how to trust you again. That’s something you have to earn back.”

It’s more than Leonard had hoped for, and more levelheaded than the emotional pleas of “Let me try to fix this” that he’d envisioned on the Wave Rider. The request for boundaries and time is something he can respect. “I won’t push you, Scarlet.”

Barry squares his shoulders. “I’m going to ask you not to call me that,” he says firmly. “Not until I say you can.”

Leonard nods. He can respect that, too. ‘Scarlet’ is a pet name; it’s more than fair that Barry wouldn’t want a reminder of the easy intimacy between them when he’s so thoroughly destroyed it. “I can do that.”

Once again, Barry’s determination melts away. Leonard gets a glimpse of deep, aching pain that cuts him like a shard of glass; then the kid tucks it away into a look of weary defeat. “Then, yeah,” he says. “I guess we give this another try.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 19 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

Len is so far from having a good day, he can't even begin to quantify it. It's like something out of one of his worst nightmares.

(There had better not be a meta with the ability to turn nightmares into reality, because if there is and they have anything to do with this, Len is going to throttle them and he won't even be sorry. Well, maybe a little sorry.)

But seriously, he’s having trouble picking the worst thing that’s currently happening to him.

Mick is gone - hurt, kidnapped, probably dying from lack of hospital access, trapped at the mercy of some superhuman monster that likes to play with people before he kills them.

Trapped in a room knowing there’s nowhere to go, just like Len was.

If Len thinks about that for too long, he’s going to crack, and he can’t crack, not when Mick's counting on him, so he can’t think about it.

But if he’s not thinking about Mick, then he’s thinking about the fact that the Families are on the cusp of closing a deal that will give them fresh blood and power and vigor, thereby undoing all the work he's so painstakingly accomplished with twenty years undercover.

Or the fact that the police force he gave his life to, his friends, his family, his truth to, is corrupt beyond all belief, beyond even his admittedly negatively biased views of it.

That the city he loves is a ticking time bomb and he's one of the few people who knows it.

That Barry is still fucking perfect.

Okay, that last one is probably not at the same level as the others, but damnit, it feels like it should be.

Barry has no right being so damn wonderful. He committed horrible crimes!

...which he accepted, taking responsibility for and accepting the consequences of. He didn't make excuses, he didn't try to explain himself, he just looked Len square in the eyes and said: You're right, I was wrong, I will never let it happen again, I will do better, but just saying so doesn't change the fact that what I did was wrong and I will pay what I must for it.

And he was manipulated by Wells, who's apparently good enough to play politics with the military and the Families and the Central City government, all at once, and that's without considering how he tricked Barry into seeing him as a surrogate father figure, utilizing his apparently extensive stalking (including, apparently, cameras in Barry's bedroom which really is the stuff of nightmares) to figure out the best ways to get under Barry’s skin.

Under the circumstances, really, one could see many of Barry’s actions as being taken under a form of emotional duress...

Damnit.

Mick was right, as he so often is.

Barry really isn't corrupt. Barry's trying his best and making mistakes (if very bad ones) in the process. But deep down, Barry’s still a good man.

And Len is head-over-fucking-heels in love with him.

A realization that helpfully arrived after he destroyed Barry's life and those of his closest friends and family.

He fully expects that this has almost certainly ruined his chances to ever get Barry’s forgiveness, even after Barry serves whatever time he must. Acceptance, tolerance, understanding, maybe, but nothing else.

Nothing like love.

Great.

Way to go, Len. Way to fucking go.

At least Len’s still in charge of the investigation in some part – really, he ought to have recused himself as soon as he’d processed what Hartley had told him, given his emotional involvement with one of the targets, but he was just so upset that he utterly forgot – so there's a chance he might be able to present evidence of what mitigating factors exist to explain Barry’s actions, and hope that that's enough to convince someone impartial to take pity.

The alternative – Barry's spirit getting stamped out of him by the brutal realities of prison, or indelibly tainted by a quiet and unethical dismissal designed to avoid having to re-open his cases – isn’t worth thinking about.

So he won’t.

Len’s gotten very good at not thinking about things.

At least he has now: this wonderful, awful interlude where they're working together, a unified front, the way Len wishes they still were.

The way they were before Len screwed everything up because he just couldn’t help his knee-jerk instinct to assume the worst in people and refuse to listen to any explanation they might have. If only he'd confronted Barry in private, maybe...

Still, if this little bit of teamwork is all Len can get, he'll take it.

Of course, despite his confident words to Barry, actually getting everything into action and going to STAR Labs to defeat Wells and rescue Mick and Thawne isn't as easy as just saying that they’ll do it.

Len has a time and a half getting the Feds on board, but twenty years of being one of their most reliable local guys pays its dividends and they agree to come with whatever resources they can spare, which on such short notice – the day before, really, Snart, you getting lax on us? – isn’t much but will have to do. Len puts his contacts in touch with Singh at the CCPD and Cecile Horton at the District Attorney’s office, the only two he personally trusts to not be on a Family payroll, to work out the business of getting warrants and putting together an actionable plan for how to deal with what’s coming.

Unfortunately, getting in touch with the CCPD means that the CCPD, leaky boat that it is, knows that something big is going down.

There’s no way to avoid it, but Len didn’t spent his years undercover twiddling his thumbs, either.

“Singh, I want you to go for a walk with someone and mention to them that they’ve got to keep it real hush-hush, but the Feds are getting involved ‘cause someone’s threatening a terrorist attack on Election Day,” Len instructs. He’s getting annoyed that he’s still on the phone while Barry’s already finished up making plans with Iris, called in Ramon and Snow to go help the CCPD with gadgets and triage for potential injuries respectively, and is now standing around and is, in fact, twiddling his thumbs.

And, to add insult to injury, he didn’t even use superspeed.

“Yes, I know, the cover story won’t last past impact,” he adds impatiently when Singh protests. “That ain’t the point. The point is that we don’t know who in the department is on the take and who ain’t, and that means we tell all of ‘em the cover story in an attempt to keep the Families from panicking before the Feds can show up with RICO warrants. Just drop the story publicly, then keep going with it in private until everyone’s convinced that’s the reason for the time being.”

There’s more arguing on the now-conference call line.

“No, we’re not getting clearance from the Commissioner,” Len says. “Not till we’re sure he’s clean. Listen, he gave me free clearance to recruit as many people as I wanted to my Weird Things task force, right? And basically no mandate? I’m recruiting your entire precinct, it can go under my name, it’s fine – yes, I’m aware that it’ll blow up in my face if this intel’s wrong, I don’t care, I’m willing to take the risk.”

That convinces a good few people. Amazing what the opportunity to cover your ass will convince people to do.

After a bit more insistence, they finally agree to accept his idea and to implement it in just the way he proposed, and then they move on to debating mechanics – where to put up barricades to help reduce damage if there are, as expected, riots, explained away as preparations for a potential panicked response to the ‘terrorist attack’, how many resources they need to divert to reinforce Iron Heights to ensure there aren’t break-outs in the meantime, etc.

Len waits a few more minutes and, when he’s pretty sure they don’t need him anymore, says, “In the meantime, I’m going to go deal with an outstanding issue –”

Immediate protests.

Goddamnit, people, you’re adult policemen! Do your goddamn jobs! Without Len holding your hand the entire time!

“Are you done yet?” Barry asks hopefully.

"You know what, yes," Len says. "Fuck this. Let's go. Yes, I’m hanging up now – no, you can’t call me back, I’m going to mute my phone the second after I hang up, I don’t care – listen, if I survive what I’m about to go do, I promise I’ll sign off on all of this minutiae and if I’m dead, just blame whatever you do on me. I ain’t gonna care, I’ll be dead. And right now, I don’t know which one of ‘em’s a better option!”

He hangs up.

“Sometimes I wish we still had flip-phones,” Barry says nonsensically, but it makes sense when he adds, “I feel like it would have been more satisfying to slam something closed or down in the hanger or something, rather than just angrily stabbing the ‘end call’ button.”

“Very likely,” Len says, and then his phone rings again.

He lifts it up to throw it down on the ground, only for Barry to flash it out of his hands before he can. “I’m gonna turn off your phone,” Barry says wisely. "It's clearly stressing you out."

"Mick is missing and maybe dead, the Families are going to destroy my city, lots of people are gonna die, and even the police I trust not to be corrupt are being pests," Len says, scowling. Barry hands him back his phone with the setting firmly on ‘mute’, which helps a little. "I think I’ve gone beyond stress."

"Where we're going, we don't need neurotransmitters."

Len pauses. "We're in the middle of a crisis and you’re paraphrasing Back to the Future?"

"...maybe?"

Stop being perfect.

"Right," Len says instead. "Let’s find a private corner and you can take us to STAR Labs. When we get there, if you see Mick and Thawne -"

"Don't you dare say that I'm to prioritize getting them out," Barry cuts him off. "I can only carry two people, and I'm not leaving you alone."

"Barry -"

"You can't defeat him. I barely stand a chance."

"I have the cold gun –"

"He's a speedster. You got one over on him the last time because he wasn’t expecting it, but now that he is, you'll never get the chance to use it."

"It doesn't matter," Len hisses. He knows that. He knows that all too well. But ultimately, in the end, it doesn’t matter. They still have to try. "Barry, please. When we get there, you have to listen to me, okay? I'm not going to say you have to prioritize them, we'll make a game-time decision on that depending on the circumstances, but I have to trust that you'll listen to me."

For some reason, that makes Barry pause. "Okay," he says. "Okay. You can trust me. I'll listen to you."

"Even if I order you take them out and leave me behind?"

"Even then. But we have to try to get everyone out before we resort to that, okay?"

"Deal." Len tries on a smirk. “I don’t intend to let Wells have the last word – besides, didn’t you hear? I’ve got paperwork to do.”

“Just so you know, that conversation doesn’t actually give me a lot of confidence in your desire to survive this,” Barry says dryly, because he knows Len pretty well, but he runs them to STAR Labs anyway.

Despite the fact that the sun is rapidly setting around them, almost all of STAR Labs’ lights have been shut off, likely because Ramon wasn’t around to turn them on, lending the building an eerie, deserted feeling.

It's "almost all" because once they walk through the main doors, they see that it's not entirely true that the building is deserted – the lights in the base of the Accelerator itself, the very core of STAR Labs, are still on.

“Wow,” Barry says. “So, everyone who thinks this is a trap, say ‘aye’.”

“Aye,” Len says. “Sadly, we’re going in anyway.”

“Should I pick up my Flash suit?” Barry asks. “It’s in the main lobby, and it could offer some extra protection –”

“No, don’t. Ramon made that, and it lives here; Wells could’ve tampered with it at any time.”

Barry makes a face. “Yeah, point. I’ve seen some of the stuff Cisco can do remotely with that thing; I don’t want to get trapped or lit on fire or something like that.”

He still looks wistful, though, so Len adds, “If we survive here, you can get him to make you a new one. Ramon, that is; it doesn’t seem like Wells took him into his confidence.”

Barry nods, looking a bit cheered. “Stop saying ‘if’,” he advises. “We’re going to survive. Better, we’re going to rescue everyone.”

Determined optimism is a good look on Barry.

Everything is a good look on Barry.

(Barry's beautiful.)

God, Mick was right -

He can't think about Mick.

Mick, who was torn away from the hospital equipment he still needs to live. Who could already be gone, dying a torturous death of sepsis or an infection or even just an inability to keep all his body functioning...

He can’t think about Mick.

“Let’s go,” he says, and makes his way into the Accelerator.

It’s not even a surprise to see Wells waiting patiently for them down on the Accelerator’s floor, a door pulled open from the floor to reveal a ladder undoubtedly leading into a secret basement room.

Len assumes that’s where Mick and Thawne are being kept.

Wells is wearing the yellow suit with the hood pushed back off his face. It looks exactly like Barry’s Flash suit, only in reverse colors and with a lightning bolt facing the other direction.

Creepy stalker.

Len wonders if Barry’s suit was always designed to be the opposite of Wells’, and if so, what that was supposed to signify.

“Take us down,” Len tells Barry. “Fast.”

He grits his teeth through the run, even though, as always, his back and leg protest the movement. It’s fine, though; he’s prepared. He can’t show weakness right now.

He's always been good at ignoring pain to avoid showing weakness.

“Mr. Snart,” Wells says. “Mr. Allen – no. Barry. Welcome. I’ve been expecting you for some time now.”

“What can you say,” Len drawls. “Sometimes I can be a bit – slow.”

Barry, who was standing as tense as wire string and almost undoubtedly working himself into an anxious frenzy that would do nothing but make him less capable of thinking through his actions before he did them, audibly snorts at that, relaxing into a more comfortable stance.

Len knows Barry pretty well by now, too.

“Indeed you are, Captain Cold,” Wells says. “Slowing things down is rather your specialty, isn’t it?”

Len isn’t impressed with Wells right now. “You realize that’s a precinct nickname, right? And I’m pretty sure you ain’t a cop.”

“In my time, you are known almost universally by your chosen appellation,” Wells says. “I’d start adjusting now, if I were you.”

“In your time?” Barry asks. "What - do you mean that you're -"

No way.

No fucking way.

"Oh yes," Wells says, and smiles. It's a very creepy and intimidating smile. "It’s true. I'm from the future."

Len shifts to lean more of his weight on one crutch, pulling it in tight against his body for better balance, and raises his other hand into the air like a schoolboy.

"...do you have a question, Mr. Snart?" Wells says, his voice a little strangled, his creepy smile gone crooked with confusion. Probably wasn't expecting Len’s infantile behavior, but in his defense Wells is clearly setting up for a nice lecturing monologue, so it seemed appropriate.

Barry just has his eyes closed like he's trying to keep himself from kicking Len and his lips pressed tight to keep himself from laughing.

"How far in the future?" Len asks. "Are we talking one day? One week? One year? Ten years? A hundred? A thousand? Has the sun exploded yet?"

"I - no? Why would the sun have exploded?"

"Ain't it supposed to do that in a billion years or so?" Len frowns at him. "You're a scientist, don't you know that?"

"He's a particle physicist, Len," Barry says, sounding long-suffering but also highly amused. "You don't have to take astronomy courses to get a degree in that. He's not some sort of all-around mad scientist from a novel or television show or something. Besides, time travel we know is real; multidisciplinary studies is just implausible."

"Fine, fine," Len says, even though as a non-scientist that sounds highly dubious to him. "The question still stands - are we talking real time, or is he just being really pretentious about having come back about a week or so?"

"I traveled back a thousand years to find the Flash," Wells snaps. "And when I did, I discovered that he wasn't worthy of the honors history had bestowed upon him! I was alone, Mr. Snart; the only one in my era like me, the only one gifted with these powers, and yet when I sought out someone who could understand, he rejected my friendship -"

"Rejecting a crazy murderous fanboy," Len says. "Can't imagine why he did that."

Wells scoffs. "The people I kill here now have been dead for centuries to me, Mr. Snart. They were insignificant to the timeline; it makes no difference."

"Makes something of a difference to them," Len says. "Lemme guess the rest, yeah? You got powers - maybe you even gave yourself powers, after hearing about what the Flash could do from your history books - and then you realized that it's too damn easy to be the only speedster around. So you found a way to go back to the only place you knew you'd find another one, 'cept you're a waste of space personality-wise, a self-absorbed asshole with delusions of grandeur, so when Barry here didn't immediately give you all the attention you wanted, you decided you hated him and that you were gonna kill him. Except for you, it wasn't enough to just kill him, 'cause then he'd still be alive for you, wouldn't he? Not like those other, insignificant people - no, you needed to wipe him outta history. So you went back to when he was just an insignificant little kid. Something like that, yeah? Stop me if I got anything wrong."

"Very clever, Mr. Snart," Wells says. He looks like he's just bitten into a lemon. Probably wasn't expecting Len to steal his thunder like that. Pity for him that Len’s actually read a book or two in his time, and he likes scifi. God, what a cliché. "Unnecessarily editorial, but right on the important points."

"That's why you killed her?" Barry asks, blankly, numbly. Another dagger in his heart, courtesy of Wells - was there no way this man would stop hurting him? "Because - because of me?"

"You were my target, Barry, yes," Wells says. His voice is kindly, almost paternal, if you ignore the batshit crazy stuff spilling from his mouth. "Your future self stopped me, stealing you away and saving you, and I killed her in anger. But it was my good fortune that I didn't succeed - killing your mother was enough to derail your future and stop you from being the Flash. But it was only then that I realized: without you to inspire me, I would never have obtained my own powers. My access to the Speed Force was cut off, and I was trapped in this primitive era - and my only way back was you, Barry. I need you. Only you will be fast enough to help me use the Accelerator to open the time portal I need to get back home."

"That's why you wanted me to get faster," Barry says, his eyes fixed on Wells much like a man confronted by a venomous snake. "As soon as possible. That's why - but why in the world would you think I'd help you? Especially now? Why?"

"Because, Barry, I can help you fix it," Wells says, his eyes avid. "The same speed that will enable me to return to my era will help you go back to when you need - to stop me from killing your mother at all - to erase my mistake, that caused you so much pain -"

"You know what, I don't believe you," Len announces.

"You - what?!"

"I don't think you killed her."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"You're a speedster, Barry's a speedster," Len says with a shrug. "Who says the real Man in Yellow couldn't've been a third guy? You might just be claiming credit."

Wells looks irritated beyond all belief. Barry is just staring at Len in total disbelief. Lots of belief going around here.

"What?" Len says. "He's got a nice story - ooooh, I'm from the fuuuuture, how narratively satisfying - but no proof. Why couldn't he be taking advantage of someone else's crime to get what he wants? It's not like he knows any details about the murder that only the murderer would know or something -"

"I murdered Nora Allen in her own living room," Wells snarls. "With a stainless steel knife measuring approximately eight inches, taken from the kitchen - the second drawer on the counter, the third one down the right side of the knife block, knocking down several pans that were hanging above as I did - and then I stabbed her in the thorax between the seventh and eighth rib, using enough force to cause traumatic bruising throughout -"

He stops abruptly. And then he starts chuckling.

"Oh, very clever indeed, Mr. Snart," he says, his voice soft and menacing. "Always thinking ahead, aren't you? I assume you're recording this conversation?"

"My phone's uploading to a cloud stream right now," Len confirms cheerfully. "Scattering the evidence onto a dozen different servers all around the world - none of which you'll be able to track, being a particle physicist and not a computer engineer. Thanks, though; that'll make proving Barry's dad's innocence a heck of a lot easier."

Barry looks touched.

"Besides," Len says, "your plan won't work and you know it."

Wells scowls at him. "And why not, exactly?"

"Because you know very well that I made Barry promise me he wouldn't go back and change significant events in the past," Len says. "I've got some mistakes of my own that I need to confront and accept, and knowing there was a way to reverse 'em was too easy. So I made him swear." He shrugs. "Barry's a bit of a liar, don't get me wrong, but once he promises something, he sticks to it."

Wells looks even more lemon-faced, probably because he's spent significant time with Barry these past few months and knows that what Len's saying is, in fact, true.

Barry's a stickler for his promises, even if he lies like a scarlet-and-gold Aladdin-style rug when confrontation is in the air.

Len's pretty sure that Wells already knew all of this, though, which means he's just posturing - and still has cards left to play.

"Well, then," Wells says, and sure enough he doesn't actually seem surprised by the revelation. "It appears we are at something of an impasse. Unless you're willing to release Mr. Allen from his promise?"

"Nope," Len says. "Sorry. And yes, before you start, I included the event of my death in the things he ain't allowed to change. So that's my last word on the subject."

"Luckily, it isn't mine," Wells says, and smirks. "I heard you, you see, in the hospital - very touching, confessing your love for Mr. Allen -"

"His what?!" Barry blurts out.

Great.

Thanks, Wells.

"- but you also made something else very clear," Wells says. "You vowed that you'd never pick anything over Mr. Rory ever again, didn't you?"

"You stole him from a hospital bed," Len says bitterly. "One attaching him to things he needed to live. Given that he's probably already dead now, what exactly are you offering me? A redo where you don't take him?"

"Oh no, Mr. Snart -"

Wells blurs, and suddenly Mick is there - on his knees, his arms bound before him, a gag in his mouth - but he's alive.

He's alive.

He's –

Noticeably less injured?

Still burned, yes, the burn scars still ugly across his neck and his shoulders and chest beneath the ill-fitting STAR Labs sweatshirt Wells put him in, but he's breathing on his own and he's not bleeding and his muscle tone looks vastly improved.

He looks like he could almost be - okay.

"One of the many advantages of future technology, Mr. Snart," Wells says. "When I took Mr. Rory - admittedly, more in the interest of tormenting you than in preparation for this moment, but waste not, want not - I realized swiftly that he would soon expire if a number of his more serious injuries were not resolved. And so: I did."

Len swallows.

Mick.

Mick, alive, better - and probably about to be murdered by a speedster.

Well, two outta three ain't bad.

"And so I offer you a deal, Mr. Snart," Wells says. "You may love Mr. Allen, but you also love Mr. Rory. Which one do you love more?"

"Why'd you take Thawne?" Len asks, playing for time. That didn’t sound like the sort of ‘deal’ he’d be interested in. "Instead of Iris?"

Wells smirks. "Ah, yes; hadn't I mentioned? My name is not Harrison Wells - that was merely an identity I assumed upon coming to this era. Instead -"

"You're a Thawne," Barry breathes, inadvertently interrupting. "That's it, isn't it? You're his descendant! If anything happens to him, that would affect you, wouldn't it?"

"Very good, Barry," Wells says, because apparently Barry interrupting him with insights is all well and good while Len doing the same is just annoying. It's okay, Len knows who the favored child here is, and he doesn't envy Barry one bit. "My true name is Eobard Thawne - a descendant of a great and noble house, politicians and scientists and kings, the great movers and shakers of history. It occurred to me that continuing to run around with Mr. Snart here could lead little Eddie into trouble. And while he himself wasn't anything special, his death would be - paradoxical."

"Very Back to the Future of you," Len says.

"Indeed. Very well, enough of this - Mr. Snart, I will give you Mr. Rory, in his new stabilized condition, as well as my word that I will refrain from harming both of you. In return, however, you release Mr. Allen from your promise - and leave him here with me."

Barry swallows. "Len," he says before Len can react.

Len looks at him.

"It makes sense," Barry says quietly. "I'm the only one who's a match for him - even with your cold gun, you won't be able to do much. This'll at least keep you guys safe. It's a good deal. You should take Mick and go."

"That's right," Wells adds gloatingly, smirking as Barry flinches. "Just take Mr. Rory. You love him more, after all -"

"S'got nothing to do with who I love more!" Len exclaims. "That doesn't matter!"

"It - doesn't?"

"No! I'm a goddamn cop! Trading one innocent life for another is unethical."

"Unethical," Wells says blankly.

"Yes! Ethics! Contributing to another person's crime makes you part of it, while doing nothing doesn't. Listen, even for a psychopath like you that don't got a little voice that tells you right from wrong, there are rules that lay it all out, and the rules are real clear on this one. Emotions don't even come into the goddamn equation. No one's getting traded for nobody."

And then he catches Mick's eyes and without saying a single word they both act at once, in one gloriously synchronized motion the way they used to do when they were proper partners, Len acting as a distraction by pulling out his cold gun, keeping Wells' (Eobard's?) attention while Mick swings his bound arms straight across, thereby hopefully giving Len a chance to finishing getting his gun out.

Wells might be a speedster, but he still needs to notice something coming his way.

He also reacts to being punched in the balls the same as any other man.

Unfortunately, he recovers much faster.

Much, much faster.

He knocks Len down, only to be hit in the side by a charging Barry, and next thing Len knows the two of them are running through the Accelerator.

It's no contest.

Wells is faster - much faster. He has more experience, more practice, more time to experiment - he knows tricks Barry hasn't even conceived of.

He's leading Barry on a pointless chase through the Accelerator - or maybe not so pointless, given what he said about using the Accelerator to open a time portal.

Not good.

"Barry!" Len shouts. "Get Mick and Detective Thawne outta here now!"

Yes, he's aware that he could have safely left Thawne in, er, the other Thawne's custody; Eobard-Wells has already admitted he doesn't plan on killing him.

Not on killing him, no. But harming him...

There are plenty of ways to harm someone if all you need from them are their genes.

Besides, Len would never leave someone trapped in a small room, an oubliette, abandoned and losing all hope of rescue - especially as Wells would undoubtedly move him to somewhere equally secure but less easy to find if he were given the chance.

At least Wells wasn't expecting Barry to veer off so sharply, obeying Len's orders without hesitation, and he actually comes to a complete stop for a moment, staring after Barry as the yellow flash of light zips out the door.

Then he turns to Len.

"Cold, Mr. Snart," he says, and his tone is murderous. "Very cold. When given a choice of which one of three to sacrifice, you choose - yourself. The cripple."

Suddenly he's in front of Len, standing far too close, the cold gun batted out of Len's hands to their feet. Len can't bend to pick it up, not with his injuries, and he's pretty sure his conventional weapon will be less than useless.

"Pity," Wells says conversationally. "I would have liked to work with you, one day. But I suppose you'll have to serve my purposes by showing Barry that nothing he loves will ever be safe until he defeats me. Me - and only me."

Len doesn't even feel the blow that throws him across the room, but he does feel it when he hits the ground, hard, his crutches clattering down around him, his side and leg on fire, his head spinning from the impact as he stares blankly up at the Accelerator's glass ceiling.

He can see the stars in the darkening evening sky.

Only two, mind you, but that's light pollution in Central City for you. Plus he's pretty sure only one of them's a star and the other a plane.

Still - not the worst view to end a life on.

He regrets it, of course, but Mick will be safe and well, and Barry - well, Len already broke Barry's heart when he turned him and his friends in to the police. Barry will mourn him, of course, and probably the what-might-have-beens, thanks to Wells’ little revelation, but he'll be fine, in time.

Wells appears above Len and hauls him up.

"Not yet, Mr. Snart," he says. God, what an utter cliché he is; Len could practically recite his next few words with him. "First I'm going to wait until Barry comes back. Then I'm going to kill you."

Yep. Just as expected.

"Boss!"

Wait, what?

That was not part of the script.

Especially since that was Danvers' voice, rather than Barry's or Mick's.

"Who are you?" Wells asks, a bit blankly. He's probably never even seen Danvers before.

"That's my secretary," Len says, just as blankly. He has no idea what she's doing here - Iris must've told her where they were.

"Admin assistant, boss!" she shouts, a kneejerk instinct.

"...right," Wells says, obviously deciding that he doesn't care. "Unless you've instructed Mr. Allen not to return -"

Damn, Len wishes he'd thought of that.

But no, it's too late for that, he can already see the red-and-yellow streak that is Barry Allen, running towards them desperately, and he can see that Wells sees him, too, and Wells lifts his hand, vibrating as fast as a saw, and -

Suddenly there’s glass everywhere.

Glass?

Oh, he's gone through STAR Labs’ glass ceiling.

Wait - how?

Danvers has him in her arms.

(Heh. Women and glass ceilings - there's a pun in there, somewhere.)

Wait, is Danvers flying?

That seems impossible, but they're definitely hovering far above STAR Labs, looking down at Central City, all lit up for the encroaching night, laid out beneath them. Which - huh?!

They float there in silence for a long moment.

It’s getting awkward.

“Well, Danvers,” Len finally says, because he’s never been awkward with Danvers and he has no plans to start now. “No wonder you never had train problems!"

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

Losing Your Memory 2/2

And here comes the angst!

AO3, Fanfiction

Three Days Later

               Things had quickly returned to normal on the Waverider once Leonard Snart had returned to them. He had been filled in on the events that he had missed, and was fitting back into the team as though the Oculus had never happened. When he found out that there was a statue of Mick in Washington DC, he had requested Rip for them to make a pit stop to it for “reasons”. Rip had agreed to the request, as he was curious about the new existence of the statue himself.

               Mick and Leonard had gotten past the whole self-sacrificing issue without having to fight it out again, although sharp words were exchanged between them. In the end, Mick was just happy to have the Leonard Snart he knew back from the dead to remain too angry with him. In addition to patching up things with Mick, Leonard and Sara had fallen back into their usual rhythm and banter quickly. However, it seemed that there was more between the crook and the assassin now. Mick had seen Leonard slip into Sara’s bunk the previous night, while Ray shared that he had witnessed him leave that very morning, followed shortly by Sara.

“Think they’re something now?” he’d badgered Mick as they entered the kitchen. “Like together?”

“Not my damn business,” Mick growled in reply, although he knew that they definitely were. He’d been expecting it to happen before the Oculus even happened, and it now seemed long overdue. Still, he wouldn’t spill the beans on them to the rest of the team. It was their secret to tell and the team would probably figure it out soon anyways.

“Who’s together?” Amaya asked from where she was stood at the counter, a half peeled orange in her hand.

“Sara and Snart,” Mick told her as Ray beat him to the food replicator. “Haircut won’t stop gossiping about them.”

“There’s something going on between them,” Ray insisted. “You can’t miss the looks they give each other. I know when something’s going on, and I’ll figure it out if it kills me.”

“Blondie’d kill you first for snooping,” Mick chuckled. “Or Snart, depending on who catches you first.”

“Hey, I’m sneaky!”

Amaya pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. “Not exactly.”

“You and Mick have been spending too much time together,” Ray grumbled as he took his sandwich from the replicator.

The woman shrugged and shot a smile at Mick. “I’m not sorry. He’s good company.”

“At least you’re not holding a knife to my throat these days,” he replied.

               Amaya’s smile grew wider as she shook her head at the memory. Since Leonard’s rescue, they’d talked. Both were still feeling out where they stood. But they did agree that the next place they landed, they would go somewhere. Given Leonard’s insistence to see Mick’s statue, they were likely going to end up in Washington DC. Mick was actually looking forward to it.

               He made to move away from the counter when the orange fell from Amaya’s hands. When it hit the counter, Mick looked back. Her smile had vanished as she squeezed her eyes shut. She held her hands against the sides of her head before sinking to her knees slowly on the floor.

“Amaya?” Ray moved beside Mick. “Are you okay?”

               In response, she opened her mouth and screamed. It was full of pain, like she was being hurt by something. Her hands moved to cover her ears more as she screamed again. Mick watched, paralyzed and unsure of what to do. Amaya screamed once more before falling backwards, snapping Mick out of his spell. He hurried over to her, his eyes widening at the sight of the blood trickling out of her nose.

“Haircut, get help,” he ordered as he picked up the fallen woman.

               Ray nodded and ran out of the kitchen. Mick exited as well, but headed toward the med bay with Amaya. She was shaking a little, but her nosebleed seemed to have stopped. Her eyes opened slowly, and Mick looked down at her. She seemed dazed and puzzled.

“Mick…” she groaned, barely focusing on him.

“What happened?” he asked, stopping momentarily.

He didn’t get an answer from her. Amaya’s eyes closed again before she could get out an answer.

Mick picked up the pace to get to the med bay.

               Opening her eyes felt like a herculean effort for Amaya. Once she was finally able to, she was greeted with the sight of Rip and Mick standing over her in the med bay. The last thing Amaya remembered was being in the kitchen with the latter and Ray when another one of the headaches had hit her. Since rescuing Snart, it had been her eighth. They didn’t have any pattern to them, coming out of nowhere to bring splitting pain that filled her head, images that appeared and disappeared too quickly to be identified, and voices shouting at the top of their lings. In the last three instances, her nose had started to bleed during them. She had passed out in her room when the one before the latest hit her.

“Hey,” she mumbled.

Rip and Mick both looked down at her. The two men looked worried, and Mick looked like he’d gotten the worse possible news ever.

“How long has this been happening?” he asked.

Amaya exhaled slowly. “Since I went out to save Snart. I thought they were migraines before they started getting worse.”

“You’re lucky that’s only been happening now,” Rip told her. “It’s a miracle you’re still alive at this point.”

She shook her head. “What?”

“Your rescue of Mr. Snart exposed your body to a massive amount of temporal energy,” Gideon explained from above. “Your body absorbed this energy, and is now being attacked by it. It’s slowly moving to collect within your brain. The attacks you have been experiencing are a symptom of the energy moving towards it.”

“My glove,” Amaya closed her eyes briefly. “It tore out there a little. That’s how it got in, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid that is not the energy signature that I am detecting,” the AI commented. “It had been reading the same signature as that of the time storm’s temporal energy. I picked up trace amounts of it on Mr. Snart after he was brought aboard.”

“So how come he hasn’t experienced any attacks?” Mick demanded.

“I believe the explosion of the Oculus impacted him on a cellular level, Mr. Rory,” Gideon replied. “The scan I performed on Mr. Snart showed the changes. The exposure to temporal energy at the blast somehow rendered his cells immune to the effects of it. However, that does not mean it can collect and transfer to another host.”

“Which was me,” Amaya realized, remembering her glove again. When she had grabbed Snart, she remembered the change of temperature in his hand. The temporal energy must have transferred then.

“So how does it come out?” Mick asked Gideon.

The AI was silent for a few beats. “There is a way to remove it, although I do not think Ms. Jiwe, yourself, or the rest of the team will like the consequences, Mr. Rory.”

“Just tell me what’ll happen,” Amaya snapped. She didn’t want to tiptoe around this. Whatever it was, she could take it.

“The temporal energy is attracted to your recent memories- the ones that involve time travel and interaction with it. The energy can be removed, but only by removing the memories themselves. They will be unable to be recovered unless you experience time travel again. Unfortunately, if those memories return, so will the temporal energy within you and the attacks you have been suffering.”

Amaya inhaled shakily. She could survive this, but only if she forgot everything she’d gone through on the Waverider and everyone she had met here.

“And what happens if she doesn’t get rid of the energy?” Sara’s voice joined in as she and the remaining team members entered.

Amaya frowned as everyone filed in. “What are you doing here?”

“We’ve been listening in after Dr. Palmer informed us what had happened,” Stein revealed with a glare at Rip. “Some people decided not to inform the rest of us of Ms. Jiwe’s situation.”

“I was not aware of the consequences surrounding the removal of the energy until now,” Rip fired back.

“Gideon, we’re having words later about you not telling me what the Oculus did to me,” Leonard drawled from where he stood beside Sara. “But what happens if my rescuer doesn’t get the energy taken out.”

“It will continue to collect inside her skull and brain,” the AI explained as everyone’s face dropped. “The attacks will persist with visions and voices from the timeline, as well as the nosebleeds and loss of consciousness. However, they will increase in duration as well. Based on current scans, I doubt Ms. Jiwe will likely survive past two more attacks. Her death because of this will result in catastrophic effects on the timeline and the deaths of multiple individuals earlier than they should occur in this timeline. I believe you are familiar or will become familiar with some of them- Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, John Diggle, Caitlin Snow, Barry Allen, Julian Albert, Lisa Snart, Lily Stein, and Dick Grayson.”

While the others were unfamiliar with Julian or this Dick, the rest of the names meant something to the other members of the team. Sara shuddered at the thought of losing her sister earlier than she had. Leonard had gone stiff at the mention of Lisa. Ray appeared to be distinctly rattled, while Stein looked like he was going to be sick.

               As soon as she saw the faces of her teammates, Amaya knew she had to give up her memories. She couldn’t put her friends through losing people they knew and cared about. Refusing the treatment would mean she would die knowing about everything she had been through, but it would destroy the present state of the timeline. Only agreeing to forget would let the casualties be reduced. It would make returning to 1942 easier too then, as if she had never left. She felt selfish for thinking like that, but she knew she was not wrong.

“Guess I have to forget then,” she sighed, looking out at the team.

“No,” Mick insisted. “There’s got to be another way.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rory,” Gideon apologized. “But I’m afraid there is no other option.”

The man looked defeated by Gideon’s words. Rip left Amaya’s side to walk over towards the replicator. A heavy stillness fell over the team now. Amaya swallowed back the lump in her throat. Despite everything, she had become attached to these people, and cared about them. Knowing she wouldn’t miss them after losing her memories made her feel worse.

“So this is goodbye then,” she said, staring out at them. “You could have easily taken me back to 1942, but you let me stay. You allowed me to seek justice for Rex’s death.  I got to see incredible things across time. Even if I have to forget them, these have been some of the best days of my life. Thank you for them.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Leonard stated. “You were the one who saved me, and now this is happening to you.”

“If you’re going to try and blame yourself for this, then don’t,” Amaya ordered as she saw the expression of barely masked guilt on his face. “If I hadn’t done this, then right now it would be Mick or Sara right here. With me, it’s for the best. I was always going to have to go back one day.”

“Feels too soon though,” Jax said.

“I know you won’t remember us,” Nate told her. “But we won’t forget you Amaya.”

Rip returned with a sort of band attached to multiple wires that he placed around her head. “Whenever you’re ready, Ms. Jiwe.”

“Thank you, Rip.”

He nodded. Amaya laid back, noticing that Mick hadn’t moved from where he was standing beside her. Reaching out, she clasped his gloved hand. He looked down at her, surprised.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “So much for the plans.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “You can probably still see it. Maybe you’ll go there with the JSA.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Don’t drop me back there. Take me to Zambesi. Bring me back home. Make up a story for the others to tell me how I came back.”

Mick nodded. Amaya could feel an ache starting in her temples, a sure sign that another attack was imminent.

“I care about you,” he said suddenly, meeting her eyes. “I care about you a lot.”

“Ms. Jiwe, I’m detecting a movement of temporal energy within you,” Gideon warned. “The procedure will need to begin soon.”

The clock was running down on her time here. Amaya took a deep breath and looked at everybody one last time, saving Mick for last. There were something she needed to say to him too, and she had to do it now. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I care about you too,” she smiled before steeling her features. “Okay, Gideon, I’m ready.”

“Yes, Ms. Jiwe. I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt.”

A sharp pain struck her in the back of the neck, right at the base of her skull. Amaya cried out before the area went numb. Her eyes started to feel heavily a moment later. She attempted to fight it, but failed. As soon as her eyes closed on Mick and the team watching over her, unconsciousness set in.

               Not long after Amaya’s eyes closed, her hand fell away from grasping Mick’s. The man stared as it slid from his to hang limp over the edge of the bed. His eyes moved up to her face and the calm expression on it. If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that she was asleep. Unfortunately, Mick knew what was happening to her right now was much worse.

               He didn’t want to spend another minute in the med bay, not with the whole group there. Without a word, he turned away from them and stormed out. Sara shouted after him. Snart told her to just let him go, something Mick was thankful for. He didn’t really feel up to being around the others right now. At least he had someone back who understood.

               When he had been Chronos under the Time Masters, they had been prepping Mick to one day become one of the Hunters. Once Chronos had squashed Rip’s attempt to save his family and defeat Savage, he would then join them. But there was a process in which the Hunters had their emotions stripped away from them. Mick was willing to give up a lot to go through that right now. Feelings just seemed to keep getting him hurt over and over again.

               Later, when he was sulking in his room after burning something, Snart came by. He told Mick that the procedure had been completed, and Amaya was currently under sedation. Sara was piloting a course to 1942 Zambesi, a few weeks after Amaya had boarded the Waverider. They had managed to fabricate a decent cover story for her family and friends to hear and tell her. Rip wanted to know if Mick wanted to join them in bringing her back to her village.

“No,” Mick shook his head. “Tell him no.”

Snart nodded and made to leave, but stopped. “I’m sorry about her, Mick. This happened because of me.”

“She told you not to blame yourself,” Mick snapped. “So don’t.”

His friend gave no reaction. “You loved her, huh?”

“I’m not talking about that shit with you,” Mick snarled with a glare.

“Fair enough,” Snart admitted, nodding. “You’re not alone though. The others are going to miss her too.”

With that, he left Mick alone.

               Later, when no one was around, Mick snuck into the med bay. He wanted to see Amaya one last time before they dropped her off. There was nothing to be said, and there never could be again. So he slipped something into her pocket and left after kissing her forehead. He pretended like nothing had happened when Rip asked again if he wanted to accompany the others in bringing Amaya home to her village. Still, he denied the request and decided to stay behind.

1943

               Amaya Jiwe’s eyes snapped open in the middle of the night, her dream already starting to fade from her memory. She had been in Chicago, and it had looked just like the pictures in the magazines. Since the JSA had stationed her back home with the war spreading into Africa and then the illness that had fractured her memories when she was stricken with it, she occasionally had odd dreams. She would travel to strange places. There were always the same people with her, including a blonde in white, a man on fire, another who could turn to steel, and a third who could shrink. But in her last dream, she had been with the man who had a rough exterior, but she somehow felt there was a goodness deep within him.

               Reaching over to the small table beside her, Amaya pulled the lighter off of it. In the moonlight, she could only just catch the shine off its metal surface. When she had recovered from the illness, it had been in her pocket. No one knew where it had come from, and she didn’t recall anyone in the JSA, not even Rex, ever giving her a lighter. But for some reason, she felt as if it was important. She flicked it, the flame dancing before her eyes.

In another century, the man who had given it to her was sitting in the brig of a pirate’s ship with two of his compatriots, hoping that she was happy.

[mx-jinxous]

Somewhere in Space We Found Each Other

Leonard Snart had been renowned engineer, among other things, at NASA, working there for a few years already. It was the booming year of 1968 and he was working on a spaceship to send into space. He'd been introduced to astronaut Barry Allen that year, letting himself get close to him. "Doctor Leonard Snart." Len jumped, turning to see his boss and an attractive man that catches Len's eyes immediately. "Sir." Len nods, the other man smiling, looking Len up and down. "This is one of our astronauts, Barry Allen. You will be working with him to help design a proper suit for the flight." "Yes sir." Len said nervously, nodding once more, lowering his eyes from the two. "Don't let the kid confuse you. He's only shy until you get him talking." "I think we will get along…peachy." Barry said, Len's anxiety showing its presence. He hated having his boss here, but that wasn't the major issue. The hot guy, Barry, was looking him up and down. "I'm going to go see the other applicants. I expect a design finished and a detailed report on how it works." "Yes sir." Len said, his boss walking out of Len's lab. He left Barry in Len's care, the astronaut watching him the whole conversation. Once that door clicked the man stretched. "That man is a stickler. Anyway I'm Barry like he said, Dr. Snart right." "I-ah yes. You can call me Len." "Okay…Len." Barry purred. "So…are you going to look at me!" Len blushed, looking up at Barry through his big framed glasses. "You have nice eyes." Barry blandly states, leaning against a desk. "Thank you…if you let me measure you I can figure out what we can fit on your body." "Go ahead, I'm you're mannequin for now." Len nodded, pulling out a tape measure out. Len busied himself, measuring Barry and writing down the measurement. "You're very cute when you have your work face on." Len's eyes shot wide and he stared at Barry. "You're saying things most people don't understand." He said, swallowing nervously. "If you're not scared of people's opinions let me take you to dinner. If you are let's go out and have dinner together." "We should focus on our work more. One thing goes wrong you could explode on impact on the gravitational wall". Len turned walking back to his desk. "Give me a chance Len, I can make your night." Barry smirked, coming up behind the man. Len's breathing picked up as he felt Barry close in behind him, his body visibly shaking. "Are you alright? You're shaking really bad." Barry backed away, grabbing a chair. "Sit down Dr. Snart." Barry said, letting the man sit down. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to freak you out. Is it alright if I touch you?" "I'm fine, just lightheaded. Give me a second." Len said. "I'll go get you a water, dehydration can make you dizzy." Barry said. "No it's fine, I just need to stop moving around so fast." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'll be up." "I'm sorry for freaking you out, I didn't think you'd be so reserved to a little flirting." "I'm not, I just…I'm not so social. I freak out a lot, plus I'm not asked out a lot." "I can't believe that, you are so handsome." Len looked down at the ground, a small smile to his face and a pink tint to his cheeks. Barry smiled, Len lifting his head to look at him with a half smile. "Is that invitation to lunch still good?" "Definitely." Barry said with a wide smile, Len's heart taking off. The door clicked open, Len jumping up, accidentally hitting Barry in the face with his elbow. "I am so sorry!" Len yelled Barry turning and walking it off. Another scientist walked in and looked at them, shaking his head. "I'll go get you some ice." "It's fine Dr. Snart." "Are you sure?" "I'm positive, besides…you're a doctor." "You could at least let me take a look at it." "It's fine, I swear. Let's get back to work so I will not explode on impact." Len blushed, grabbing the tape measure to redo the measurements. The next few months were a few minor dates here and there, Barry cooking for the older man. They had hit it off after the first few dates, Barry letting Len move in with him. They shared a bed, cuddled most of the time, but they hadn't had sex yet. It's been around three months and Len hadn't brought it up. Barry hasn't pushed him, but it's been a little weird. Barry thought they were serious, but whenever he touched Len's thigh the man jumped away from him and buried himself in his work. Barry had been fighting urges to take that further step. They'd hit a bump in their relationship, Barry sleeping on the couch to avoid jumping Len. He'd notice the fragile man's state get worse when he'd walk by Barry on the couch. Tonight was different, Len walked in after work and just stared down at Barry, swallowing. He didn't look good, in fact Barry swore he saw singed hair and bruises. "Oh my god what happened Lenny?" Barry sat up, pulling the man down on the couch. "I'm terrified and it's affecting my work." "Terrified about what?" Barry asked, taking a better look at the bruise. "Are we over? You keep sleeping out here and I don't know if you're telling me you don't want me anymore." Len said, letting out a cry. "No! No we're not breaking up Len!" Barry yelled, grabbing the young man. "I'm sorry for making you think that." "Then why won't you share a bed with me?" "Sex, I'm so horny around you. I know you're not ready for sex, so I'm trying to give you space." "Sex?" Leonard said, looking up at Barry. Suddenly he hugged the man, letting out a cry. "I'm sorry Lenny. I didn't think it would freak you out." "I…I've never had sex with anyone before, I'm just scared." "You should have told me Len, I wouldn't have put so much pressure on you. We'll have sex when you are ready." "What about tonight?" Len said, spreading his legs a bit. "Not tonight, you look like you've been through hell. How about we just share a bath for tonight, I know you've only seen me naked once." "Yah…good idea." Len said, standing up. Barry smirked and in a second had Len over his shoulder, swing him around. Len let out a laugh, holding onto Barry. They stumbled into their bedroom, Barry following onto the bed. Barry slid up, claiming Len's lips. Len let out a purred, wrapping his arms around Barry's shoulders. The other man kissed down Len's jaws and down his neck. He felt Barry nipping at his neck and sucking on the tender flesh. "I love you." Len moaned out in the moment of bliss, Barry pulling away immediately. It was then that Len realized what he said, staring up at Barry. He was embarrassed, visible shaking. Smiling Barry lowered his head. What he did next got Len's heart started. Barry bit down, hard enough to draw blood. Len let out a his, tears coming to his eyes. "Mine." He whispered, wiping away the tears. "That hurt you asshole! Why would you do that!?" Len asked, pulling away from Barry. "I'm possessive, I love you too." Barry said, catching Len by the lips. "I love you so much." "You…you love me." "All the way down to the to the blushes you have." "Well…my shoulder hurts now." "Let's go get a bath." Barry said, picking Len up bridal style. "So strong Mr. Allen." Len smiled, wrapping himself around his boyfriend. Barry didn't say anything, just sat Len on the sink. He turned the water on, waiting till if warmed up before plugging it. Turning he saw Len struggling to keep his eyes open. "You look tired, rough day?" "Other than my emotional strain? I was chewed out about the delay on the suits, the engine was not working properly so when I went to fix the issue it blew up in my face. I earned another chew out and a threatening of my job. On top of it I haven't been sleeping well. My anxiety is so high at the moment." "Then you rest in the bath and I'll wash us both. I'll make dinner while you rest." "That sounds nice." "Good." Barry said, removing his shirt. "You're very handsome." Len mumbled, removing his shirt quickly. Barry beat Len into the tub by seconds, the man turning the water off. Len quickly climbed in, leaning back against Barry. It took a moment for them to get comfortable, but when they did Len was snuggling into the older, resting his head on the younger's chest. He felt Barry's arms move up his waist and stop. They laid there, Len almost asleep by the time Barry spoke up. "I think we should go out tomorrow for dinner, I can get us a reservation." "Do what you like your highness." Len mumbles, Barry almost missing it. "What?" "I said do what you'd like your highness. Why so bothered?" "Sounds weirdly familiar." "I've probably called you it before." "Probably." Barry mumbled, smiling. "If I'm the king are you my queen?" "I'm your knight." Len said with a wide smirk, close behind his eyes. "My one and only knight." Barry whispered as Len drifted. The next moment he shot them open to see he was lying in a bed, but not a modern bed. He looked around to see a medieval themed bedroom, confusion taking over. Suddenly and arm came up and wrapped around his shoulders. Looking beside Len spotted Barry, the younger smiling up at him. "That's probably the best round yet. I love when you're rough with me." Len just stared wide eyed, Barry looking confused. "What's wrong? Wasn't it good?" "It was amazing." Len found himself saying, a smile on his face. Grabbing Barry's arm he moved it around his waist, rolling over on top of Barry. "I just realized how much I love you." "With all my heart I love you." Barry said, wrapping his legs around Len's waist. "My knight." Barry said. "I wish I could marry you and give you children." "Plenty of women to bare my heir, only one man to hold my love." "Would you be inclined as to let me show you my love for you again?" "Do please." Barry smiled, sliding down in the sheets. Len woke with a start, finding himself in bed, under the sheets with a robe on. Sitting up Len looked around expected to see Barry. He was alone, which made him upset. "Barry?!" "I'm in the living room!" The voice came, Barry coming in the room rather quickly. "Are you feeling alright?" "Yah, I just had a realistic dream." "Want to talk about it?" "Maybe later." Len said, leaning over and placing a kiss on Barry's lips. It was a deep kiss, but lasted a second when Len pulled away. Barry chased for a moment, but stopped and pulled back. "Dinners ready." Barry said, smiling when he saw Len smiling. "Great I'm starving." Len said, practically jumping out of the bed. Immediately his mind cut function to his legs and Len collapsed forwards, holding his head in pain. "Lenny!?" Barry fell from the bed, grabbing Len and holding him. "What wrong?" "My head hurts." Len hissed, pulling Barry closer. He let out a cry, Barry kissing his forehead. "I'll go see if there is any medicine?" "Know! Please stay." Len said, letting out a scream. Not a moment later he laid against Barry's chest, the younger holding him close. "I'm sorry." Barry only kissed his head, letting the older man collect himself. "Look up at me." Len looked up, blood running down his nose. "Let's get you dressed and take you to a hospital." Barry said, helping his boyfriend up. Suddenly Len grabbed Barry and pulled him into a kiss, a hungry kiss. Falling back Barry hit the bed, looking up at Len. The older climbed on him, pulling Barry's legs apart so he could fit in better. He continued to kiss his boyfriend as Barry was freaked out by the sudden change and pulled away. "Len stop." He demanded, the older man jumping back and covering his mouth. "Oh god. What's happening to me?" Len curled up, backing away from the bed. "Come here." Barry said with begging eyes. "Talk to me." "Okay…okay." Len said, not moving and tears falling down. "Lenny, you have to move your feet." Barry said, getting up slowly. "I can't Barry…I can't." "What's wrong." Barry said, pulling Len into a hug. "I can't sleep! I keep having these dreams about us! Stupid dreams about us." "What happened?" "We were a prince and his knight, a jazz man and a man, war men, circus performer and doctor. They are nice dreams, but we always die. The same person kills us." "Leonard, listen to me. Believe it." Bart said, making the older man look up at him in confusion. "It happened. If you fight it, it will only get worse." "You're talking like crazy man." "Please Leonard, please try and remember. It's time to." "I'm in love with a crazy man." Len mumbled, Barry reaching up and wiping the blood off Len's nose. "Fine I'll try. What do you want me to do." "Just remember. Remember the rendezvous we had out of my parents eyes, our secret spot. Remember your prince my white knight." "Your knight?" "My white knight that would protect me." Barry said, untying the robe. "Who'd let me reward him for being so amazing." He said as he kneeled down, kissing Len's thigh. Suddenly Len pulled away, shutting his robe. "This isn't a joke Barry! I'm having issues sleeping and it ruining my performance at work! Just don't ask if you are going to tease your way into my pants!" "I'm not! You were my knight I want you to remember!" Barry reached out and grabbed Len by the waist. In a moment Len screamed at him and slapped him across the face hard enough to knock him back. Barry grazed the bed post as he fell, holding the cheek. Immediately Len froze and dropped to his knees, words mashing into one another as he asked. Barry panicked questions. Barry looked up with heart broken eyes and sat up. "I-I'm going to go-for a walk." He said, getting up and walking back towards the door, still holding his cheek. "Wait. Barry!" Len called, but once he realized Len was gone his stomach flipped and the tears fell. Barry's eyes haunted him. He'd never wanted to see those again, let alone at him…wait it'd been the first time only, but he'd seen it before. Len laid back, curling up and crying. He was so scared of what was happening to him, now he might be dealing with it alone. When Barry came home Len was in the kitchen, wrapping the soup up. He passed by without a word, Len watching him go into the bedroom. He followed, ready to talk when he found the door locked. Knocking on the door he laid his ear to the door. "Barry? Are you alright." He was met with silence. "I'd like to see if theirs a lot of damage, make sure you're okay." With no response Len backed away from the door. "I love you okay. If you want me to get out I'll leave now, just tell me." Silence followed, Len sighing. "I'm sorry Barry." He said, going to the kitchen and grabbing a few bottle from the medicine cabinet. Grabbing a bag he'd had packed he threw the bottles in it. Without another word he left, locking the door behind him. The next day at work Len wasn't surprised, but let down to see Barry was absent. He'd locked himself inside the lab, working out the ticks in the launchers. He heard a knock on the door, turning to see his boss glaring at him. Len just turned back around and continued later. He knew his boss had a key to every room so he just let him wiggle his way into the room. He heard the door shut and swallowed. "You! What in gods name have you done!" "Work." "You've managed to piss off the only astronaut, and one of the best we have, that would work with you! He's out there refusing to come in and work with you! I don't care what you do in your time off, but it's my name on the line you faggot!" "If you want to fire me then go ahead, but if not get the hell out so I can actually work." Len mumbled, gut wrenching in fear. What came next left Len's mind completely silent. His boss shoved his head into the table with enough force to break his glasses and his nose. Before he was able to register it he was grabbed by the hair and thrown to the ground. Glass beakers crashed to the ground as the table was shoved out of the way. Len moaned when his boss sat on his stomach and wrapped his hands around Len's neck, choking Len. The young man knew none of his coworkers would help him. He blacked out, but woke back up when he heard a beeping. He woke up in the hospital, the beeping behind his heart monitor. That moment he broke down and started crying his whines coming out raspy. A hand came up and held his cheek as he cried. Everything was blurry and Len was terrified. "B-Barry?" "I'm here Len, I've got you." Barry said, Len breaking down even more, cuddling him. "I'm so sorry Barry." "Shuu Len, it okay we can talk later, but you need to rest." "What about-!" "Jail. Oh my god your lips were so blue." "I love you." "I know. I love you so much Len." "Can't see." Barry leaned over, kissing Len. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Len cried, Barry kissing him again. "Comeback home." "I will. God I will if you want me Barry." "I never wanted you to leave." "I want to be your knight again…but I can't." "Why not." "I'm not knight material anymore, not in this life." Len said, feeling Barry kiss his forehead. "I will be your knight then, you be my prince." "Do you remember when we first met?" "Yes, I am your astronaut." "I mean the first time." "Oh yah, you were no older than me, I was sixteen and you were eighteen. You were in your new shiny armor and I was riding my horse. My eye got caught and-." "You fell, your foot stuck and I had to stop the horse and get you down. You broke your ankle." Barry stared, wide-eyed at Len. "You remember?" "I will always remember you. I can't be your knight this life." "I will be yours." "I love you Bartholomew Allen." "I love you Leonard Snart." "Excuse me! You aren't allowed to be that close to him!" "He's fine." Barry said, Len smiling and tried to sit up. "Stay down!" The woman yelled, coming over. "When can I take him home?" "A day or so?" "Is it safe to have sex?" Len asked, both Barry and the nurse whipping their heads toward him. "I advice you don't for a week at least. Let your head trauma and wind pipes heal." "That's great." Len said, taking Barry's hand. "Can we be alone?" "Half an hour, then your doctor will need to do a check up." "Good, plenty of time to talk." The nurse rolled her eyes, turning and walking out. "Sex? Really? You just got choked by your boss and the first thing on your mind is sex?" "My first thing on my mind was you." Len smiled, looking up at Barry. "Can't you just kiss me like a normal boyfriend." Smiling Barry leaned over and kissed Len on the lips. Pulling away Len took a look at Barry's face. There was a light bruise, but not much. It still hurt him, and Barry knew it would, taking the chance to kiss him again. "Just stop thinking about it." "I harmed you. The terrified look in your eye-." "Will never be seen again. You will never hurt me again. There's only two ways that can happen. You die or you don't remember me." "Promise if I ever get out of hand again you'll set me straight." "I will always." Barry said, feeling Len's chest. "We won't ever fight like that again though." "Such an optimist." Len smiled, laying back. "That's why you love me." Barry said, Len rolling his eyes . "I am going to take a nap, can you wake me in a few hours?" "Yah, of course. Get as much rest as you can, I'll be here when you wake up." Len rolled into his side, feeling Barry squeeze his hand again. He didn't take long to fall asleep, Barry waiting for him patiently. Finally came the day Len had dreaded since he met Barry, launch day. They'd spent the night before, celebrating the launch. After Len's accident the duo talked it over and had decided to get married when Barry got back. "Hey Len, do you want lilacs or roses." Barry said over the comm. "Can't we have blue flowers?" "If that's what you want. I just think they'll clash with your eyes." "Can you guys get off comms? It's time to launch." Another astronaut asked, Barry rolling his eyes. "I'll call back later. Don't do anything stupid." "Will do, I love you." "I love you too." Len said, hanging up. Turning to the TV screen he watched at the count down began, then blast off. Barry was gone, for a voyage over a span of years. By the time his fiancé returned they'd both be in their late thirties. Returning to his lab Len sat down at his desk, looking over his text project. Not a second later he felt cold metal to his back, his eyes widening in fear. Something sharp was stabbing through his jacket hard enough to scratch him. "I know you remember me. Now you know how this ends so get on your communication line and tell him how scared you are." Len shook, looking over his shoulder to see the man that had killed him so many times before, a familiar blade in his hand. "You can't kill him you know." Len said, the sword sliding down his back. "Call." The man said, Len picking up a mic. He submitted the signal, listening to the buzz. It was a second later that Barry answered. "Barry." "Hey, you get access to the radio, that's great. Anyway I was thinking the honeymoon be in New York. The city interest me." "Hey Bear, I actually have something…bad to tell you." Len said, Barry toning down. "What's wrong Len?" "I couldn't tell you before, but this is something you need to hear. First off I love you very much. More than you will ever know." "I know, just tell me, it'll be alright." "I-I have this tumor in my brain. I'm going in for surgery in the next few days so I won't be here to answer the comm." "I wish you had told me. I want to be there with you." "You'll always be with me." Len said, feeling the sword jab deeper. "Tell him." The man whispered, tears finding their way down Len's cheeks. "I just wanted you to know that I love you very much, so much." "I love you too, I'll be down as soon as we are pulled back. "I have to go now. Good-bye Barry." "Bye Len." Len hung up just as the sword was pulled back. A moment later returning to pierce him through the chest, Len crying out in pain. "One thing you had to do! One thing to say!" "I'm his knight, I'd never put him through that." "Well he'll spend his years expecting you to return." The sword tore up and everything went black for Len. The man withdrew his sword, leaving Len in a pile of his own blood. Thirteen years passed from that day, Barry's ship returning to applause and gratitude from the people. Barry only worried about one person, Len. He rushed to the lab after the finished signing autographs, ready to begin his life with his husband, spend their honeymoon in a great city like New York. When he found someone else in the lab his raised his eyebrow in confusion, the man jumping when he saw Barry. "Don't rush up on a man like that. You'd cause his death." The person said, catching his breath. "Where's Dr. Snart?" "Who?" "Dr. Leonard Snart. He works in this lab. He was an engineer." "Oh…well. That's a tragic story." Something cracked in Barry, the feeling of isolation leaking into him. "Sit down." "Where is my fiancé! Tell me right now!" "Rumor had it someone impaled him." Barry's eye twitched as tears raced to the surface. "Either way he's buried out in old GreenWoods." "He's dead?" "Yep, thirteen years ago." "I've got to go." Barry mumbled, turning and dragging his feet out the door. He heard appraises as he broke through the crowd. He took a taxi to the cemetery. A few minutes in head found the grave. He slumped, finally giving in. He broke down, falling to his knees as he cried. It was the worst feeling they had to endure. The moment they realize their beloved is no longer their anymore, already walking in a new life. Whimpering Barry pulled out a scalpel he'd taking from the lab, looking down at the grave. "I love you. Why'd you have to be my knight. Just please wait for me." Barry said, bringing the scalpel up. Taking a deep breath he drove it into the side of his neck. Covering the spot Barry fell back, letting the blood run from his neck. He laid back on the ground, looking up at Len's tombstone, letting the world around him get colder and colder, darker and darker.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 12 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

There's a closet at the end of the hallway on the other side of the top floor from Barry's lab. It's little more than a glorified broom closet that sometimes gets used to store samples and evidence that's still being analyzed.

It's small, and dusty, and dark, but it's just large enough to have a small stool big enough to sit on inside (primarily used for going through samples because doing that while crouched over is hell on your back) and that makes it the perfect place to go have anxiety attacks in the middle of the day, if one were so inclined.

Barry is currently so inclined.

The last week or so has been crazy.

Just - legitimately, unbelievably crazy.

First there'd been the whole issue with Hartley Rathaway, who they'd barely stopped from destroying STAR Labs with his sonic weaponry a few weeks back. He should've been locked away safely, but he'd managed to trick Cisco into letting him escape from his cell in the Accelerator, and, despite Barry's best efforts to scour the city for him, they'd totally lost track of him after that.

At least he didn't seem intent on re-offending imminently, so there’s that, if nothing else.

That'd been bad enough, but what followed less than two days later..?

Insane.

Just.

Insane.

Where does Barry even start thinking about it?

At the beginning, he supposes: Iris returning from one of her fact-finding missions with the Anti-Flash Task Force with the news that Clyde Mardon, the first meta Barry ever defeated and which Joe had to shoot down, apparently had a brother named Mark Mardon, and that Mark Mardon was planning something in revenge. Something aimed specifically at Joe.

Iris had also been really weird around Joe but refused to explain why, just saying she was processing some stuff and would tell them both later once she figured out how she felt like reacting about it. Joe thinks it's just her reacting to there being a threat on his life, but Barry's not so sure about that.

(At least whatever it is wasn't Iris discovering the Flash thing, thank God - she assured Barry in private that whatever was bugging her didn't involve him and was entirely about Joe. He shouldn’t be as relieved by that as he is, but give him a break, he’s not a saint. Man, she is going to kill him when she finds out about the Flash thing, and he's going to deserve it.)

Either way, the CCPD took the threat seriously and began to take actions to protect Joe and guard the waterfront, except their actions weren't anywhere near enough because it turns out that Mark Mardon, like Clyde Mardon, is a weather-controlling meta.

A weather-controlling meta who decided that he was going to get back at Joe West by attacking his precious city, which he did by creating a freaking tsunami using the river.

A tsunami!

In Missouri!

What the hell, man; that's just wrong.

Barry’s never recommended therapy to a soul in his life, particularly after his own negative experiences as a kid, but seriously, if the choice is between talking through your issues with a therapist and trying to process them with a tsunami, go with the therapist!

He’s pretty sure Mardon didn’t expect for the tsunami to get as big as it did, judging by the expression on his face, but whatever he meant to do, what he did end up doing was creating a wave large enough that, if not stopped, would undoubtedly sweep through the entire city and destroy huge swaths of it.

Including the parts that had Iris and Joe and Len and Cisco and Caitlin in them.

Everyone had been utterly frantic, seeing no way to either stop the wave or evacuate the city in time. Based on a crazy last-second suggestion, Barry tried to create a counter-force by running as fast back-and-forth as he could, pushing himself past his limits, but he knew even as he forced himself into pain and beyond that it wasn’t going to be enough.

He wasn't going to be able to stop the tsunami.

And then – he did.

No, not with the counter-force idea; once he had a chance to think about it for a second he realized that it was an incredibly stupid idea to begin with. That didn't work.

What did work, though, was grabbing Mark Mardon out of his hiding place in Keystone City and putting him in the Accelerator before he ever had a chance to launch the tsunami.

Because apparently when Barry runs that fast, he went fast enough to go back in time by a day and stop the whole thing before it ever started.

Mardon problem solved.

Barry just doesn't know what to do about it.

It, of course, being the fact that he somehow actually traveled through time.

Backwards, that is, rather than the usual leisurely forward minute-by-minute progression he and everyone else normally does.

...holy crap, does that mean his "speed" powers might actually be a form of time manipulation? That he's not running "faster" than people, but rather that he's running at regular speed while time slows down around him?

No, that can't be right - Cisco routinely talks to him via the comms while he's running, which would be impossible if time had slowed down. Unless the time-slows-down effect is extremely localized, explaining why people immediately around Barry are moving too slow to "talk" but Cisco, at a distance, isn't...

Yeah, this whole focusing on trivial details or abstract questions isn't working to effectively distract him from the overarching point at issue here.

He ran backwards in time.

He ran backwards in time!

He ran.

Backwards.

In time.

Nope, no matter how many times Barry says that, it doesn’t get any less weird.

That shouldn't even be possible! Barry's a human being, not some bizarre singularity-black-hole in the making - unless that's what lies at the far end of his speed capacity –

Barry groans and puts his head in his hands.

He wants to talk to Iris about this, but he can't, because he's been lying to her so long about being the Flash that he doesn't know how he'd raise it even if Joe lifted his prohibition against telling her.

He wants to talk to Len, cool-headed, practical, sci-fi nerd Len, about this, but he can't, he can't just reveal himself now - and what if Len thinks that Barry's been deceiving him, too? He kinda has been, and they may be new to each other but Barry already knows that Len has deep-seated issues with deception and betrayal. So that's out, too.

And while Cisco and Caitlin are technically available, Barry desperately wants to talk to someone, anyone, that isn't part of what Cisco's been calling Team Flash, because he has the sinking feeling that they (or at least Dr. Wells) kinda-sorta-maybe theorized that this was going to happen.

The time travel stuff, that is.

Dr. Wells hadn't even been all that surprised about it! A total reworking of how humanity understands physics and the nature of time, but nope, Dr. Wells, a renowned physicist, doesn't seem to care about the scientific implications. If anything, he'd just been pissed off that Barry changed what happened - apparently he "should've been more careful with changing history" which, uh, seriously? Barry literally saved the whole city? That seems like a worthwhile change to him, whatever the personal costs that might come about as a result.

Also, seriously, he just broke physics, how is that not the priority issue here?!

It'd been weird. Not to mention how Dr. Wells' lack of surprise, combined with the vaguely pleased-anticipatory look Dr. Wells'd had when Barry first mentioned his time travel? Really making Barry feel kind of manipulated here. Or like a science experiment. Or like one of those psychology experiments where you don't tell the subject what the goal is in advance because that could affect the results...

Either way, he's feeling used.

All that emphasis on training speed - was it really to help Barry catch up to the Reverse Flash, as Cisco's started calling him, or was it to see if Barry could break the time barrier?

And if it was, why hadn't Wells just told him that was the goal?

Maybe Barry doesn't want to have the responsibility of fixing the timeline as well as the city, okay? He was a huge Harry Potter fan growing up - he's gotten into all the debates about what the wizarding world should and shouldn't have done with the Time-Turner technology/magic they apparently possessed for no reason other than to let an over-achieving student take extra classes, and damnit, he doesn't want to be book 3 Hermione! He doesn't want to have to be constantly thinking about what events over the previous day or whatever might be worth going back to fix! Barry's already doing two full-time jobs; time travel would just make the responsibility to be “always on” even worse! He wants to live a normal life sometime!

Cisco and Caitlin aren't any help, either with his complicated feelings about Dr. Wells or about the time travel thing. Cisco thinks time travel is cool, but in, like, a non-personal way, theorizing that Barry might go all Back To The Future on them and accidentally erase someone from existence which, thanks Cisco. Like Barry needs any more pressure here.

God, Barry loves the guy, don't get him wrong, but sometimes Cisco is too focused on whether something is "awesome" and not enough about the actual impact of that something. Prime example: Captain Cold's cold gun, which remains an outstanding threat.

Caitlin, too; he would've thought that she'd be more sympathetic, but she'd immediately started thinking of major historical events he could change for the better - mostly the Particle Accelerator explosion, which killed her fiancé and ruined her career. Which, again, wow, pressure much? Barry can't blame her for her reaction but then she and Cisco'd gotten into an argument about paradox and neither of them were really noticing Barry's freak-out so he just said he had to go back to work and came here.

And even putting aside the whole time travel business, he really can't talk about his disappointment in Dr. Wells with them of all people, because neither Cisco nor Caitlin seem to understand that it's not actually normal for a boss to run experiments on his staff without their consent. Apparently that's "just how Dr. Wells is" and "well, you know, he is a genius" - which is not okay! Forgiving someone for being a dick because they're a genius is, like, sign number one of a toxic working environment, and Barry legitimately doesn't know how to convey that to them.

It's like they've never had a union rep bring a lawyer to ramble at them for an hour about their rights as employees. Though now that Barry thinks of it, STAR Labs was probably never unionized, so that explains that, anyway...

Besides, even if he could think of a way to explain to them that he's really upset with Dr. Wells right now, he's not actually sure if there's even a point in trying to do so. They stayed with Dr. Wells after the Particle Accelerator explosion; Barry's not sure there's anything the man could do that would break their loyalty to him.

Which is by itself kind of weird? That's a lot of loyalty to have to a single guy in relation to, well, a job. Even Hartley had been weirdly obsessed with Wells as a person, rather than just as a bad boss. Barry can sympathize with the idea of Wells being a father figure, he totally gets that, but...it's a bit weird.

Weird or not, though, it's pretty depressing. Barry's never really thought about there being a difference in their goals, him and Dr. Wells, and it's kinda depressing to realize that if there is a difference, Cisco and Caitlin - probably his closest friends right now - would fall on Dr. Wells' side.

Man, he wishes he could talk about all this to Iris. Or Len.

(Not Joe. Joe would just immediately start encouraging Barry to use his time travel powers to stop routine crime, like murders and robberies, before they ever happened, and wouldn't understand at all why Barry's reluctant to take on that sort of responsibility. He hasn't even read Harry Potter! Or, like, Minority Report!)

No, what Barry needs is someone who's his friend, not Dr. Wells' friend, someone who's nerdy enough to get it, honorable enough to keep the whole thing a secret, and scientific enough to help him think through all the potential consequences here –

Holy crap, he's an idiot.

No: he's a genius.

The answer that would simultaneously solve both of his current problems just hit him.

First problem: the suddenly-too-constricting circle of people who know about him being the Flash, thus limiting who he can talk to about this time travel/Dr. Wells development.

Second problem: the fact that he's run into a total wall on the whole disappearances thing.

Answer: He can tell his CSI friends - Gila, Terri, and Andre - about the issue!

He can't believe he didn't think of this before. They're his friends, after all, even if he kinda-maybe-sorta has been neglecting them recently in favor of Cisco and Caitlin. No one's prohibited him from mentioning the Flash thing to them (unlike Iris), and as CSIs, they're familiar with keeping things totally confidential, which he needs them to do with his identity as the Flash.

It's perfect.

After all, they're all total nerds, so they'll be able to provide an objective (semi-objective, anyway) perspective into what's going on with Dr. Wells!

Plus, they might be able to help him make progress on finding the Reverse Flash - he still thinks Chemical X is speedster residue, but he hasn't been able to confirm that because he doesn't have the tools necessary to do that in his on-site lab. But his friends do, what with all those fancy new toys they're always telling him to come play with.

They also have access to all the same case files as he does, so if he crosses off all the ones he knows aren't related to the Reverse Flash, they might be able to see a pattern in the ones that are remaining. He's been trying, but it feels like every time he's on the verge of some sort of breakthrough, something Flash-related comes up.

Seriously, this Flash thing is really starting to take over his life. He hadn't had much of a life before, so he hadn't noticed it all that much, but now that he has an engaging project at work he wants to do in his free time, he's starting to realize that he doesn't actually have any free time anymore.

Or, at least, the fact that he's given Team Flash at STAR Labs the idea that he'd give every minute of his free time to them, and if he doesn't, Dr. Wells gets annoyed, and when that happens, Cisco and Caitlin call-slash-text him pleas to come sooner.

Yes, Barry could say no, and he's trying to do it more often, but he's kind of a doormat sometimes. He's aware of that.

Though the way Dr. Wells mentions his mom every time Barry skips out on training is really starting to piss Barry off...

He's getting distracted. The point here is that his idea - telling his friends - is a great idea, and he should do it.

(A little voice in his head suggests that there might be some downsides to the idea if he thinks about it a little longer, but he's really desperate to talk to someone, so he's just going to ignore that little voice. He's sure it'll be fine.)

Decision made, Barry jumps up.

He promptly knocks his head against one of the shelves and has to spend a few Flash-speed seconds catching all the evidence samples before they crash onto the ground, but when they're all back in order, he heads out right away.

The CSI building (technically, the off-site forensic science analysis division of the CCPD, but no one calls it that) is just as he remembers it: a big squat office building painted a soul-sucking taupe color, unlovely and boring and everything Barry's job is not.

Barry smiles at it fondly.

They throw the best holiday parties here. And birthday parties. And weekend parties, any time they have to work Sundays...yeah. This place is totally awesome.

Okay, maybe the parties aren't the most exciting by anyone else's standards - Barry's well aware that D&D marathon sessions, WoW LAN parties, and high-stakes science trivia drinking contests aren't everyone's speed, but they definitely are his.

It's a good place.

Barry considers just running upstairs, but that seems rude, so he buzzes in through the front desk like a proper visitor would. The door guy - a friendly if somewhat nebbish guy named Gary who's studying frantically for grad school just about every second he can, something that doesn't seem to have changed in the entire time Barry's known him - looks up from his textbook and exclaims, "Barry! Buddy! It's so good to see you!"

Barry grins. "Hey, Gary. How's it hanging? How's John?"

Gary flushes pink in delight. "I can't believe you remember my boyfriend's name. You only met him once!"

"Between the British accent, trenchcoat, and tendency to flirt with everything up to and including inanimate objects after a few drinks, John was very memorable," Barry says dryly. "You're still together?"

"Yeah, we're good," Gary says. "He's been a bit busy with this thing at work - something called Project Rising Darkness, I don't know, I think his co-worker Manny thought it up, he's kinda emo - but he's been helping me apply to work with the FBI in my spare time now that I'm on the verge of graduating."

"At last! That's really great, Gary; I hope you make it," Barry says warmly. Something occurs to him. "Uh, actually, do you know about the new Internal Affairs guy in the CCPD?"

"No; what about him?"

"I hear he used to do undercover work in a joint CCPD-FBI group," Barry says. "Maybe he could recommend you?"

"You think so?" Gary asks, brightening. "That would be amazing! I'll reach out to him."

"You do that," Barry says, amused. He's pretty sure Gary's unique combination of overwhelming optimism and extreme eagerness to please could evoke sympathy from anyone, whether they’re an undead zombie or a ninja assassin or both; a mere supervillain like Captain Cold doesn't stand a chance. Besides, it could actually help Gary's career. "I'm here to talk to Gila, Terri, and Andre - are they still in the old room?"

"Your old crew, of course! I should have guessed," Gary says, beaming. "No, they're on the new floor - let me give you directions."

Good thing Barry asked.

See, there's some benefit to going slow sometimes.

(Barry really wishes he could think of a good way to tell Len about being the Flash - he'd get such a kick out of all the slow/fast puns Barry's made so far.)

When Barry gets up to the new floor, though, he slows down for a completely different reason.

"What the hell...?"

"Barry!" Gila exclaims, abruptly appearing out the door. That part's not a surprise; Gila was the person who inspired Barry's belief that chubby five-foot-two women with hair a color of red not found in nature are capable of a sort of magic sudden appearance thing that the Flash can only envy. "You finally came to visit!"

Barry just gestures mutely.

She grins. "So what you're saying is that you like the new lab."

"You said you got new machines!" Barry yowls. "You didn't say they redid everything with state-of-the-art tech!"

Andre - Gila's opposite in every respect, being tall, skinny, and dark-skinned - strolls out of the door, laughing. "They felt very bad," he says, grinning. "You know, you look remarkably well for someone who was in a coma for nine months."

"I know," Barry says, grinning back. "But seriously! Look at this! This is amazing!"

"You want a tour?" Terri asks, joining the rest of them.

"Do I ever!"

The tour takes them all past the end of official working hours, but no one minds; they're all used to working odd hours.

By the end of the tour, Barry's fallen in love. Deeply, irrevocably in love - with one of the new spectroanalysis machines, which he's named Julie.

"You know you can't take that back to the city with you," Andre says, sniggering.

"You can't separate me and Julie! We're meant to be!" Barry exclaims, hugging the machine.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you big baby. You're the one who volunteered to be the on-site tech," Gila laughs. "You get the fresh crime scenes, we get the cool tech – deal with it!"

Barry mock-grumbles at her.

"Now, it's getting late," Terri says briskly. "Why don't you tell us why you're really here?"

Barry blinks.

"We're your friends, B," Andre says, not without fondness. "We know you and love you for the absent-minded super-focused asshole you are. No way you came all the way out here just to say hi and go on a tour our admittedly kickass new facility; if you wanted to do that, you would've done much earlier on."

"So what's the issue and how can we help?" Gila asks.

"Uh," Barry says.

He's never really had to tell someone. Maybe Felicity, but that was because she already knew about Oliver and he could just, you know, communicate in lots of "you know..? You know..."s.

Well, at least he can consider this good practice for telling someone like Len or Iris.

"Okay," he says. "I have - no, wait. Can you guys first promise to keep this, like, super confidential? The most confidential. It's really important. I might not be able to tell you everything, but I want to tell you some of it and, well, yeah. You guys promise?"

They all impatiently agree.

"Okay," Barry says again. Wow, this is harder to get out than he thought. Maybe it'd be easier with an oblique approach? "Uh - I have a lead on Chemical X."

"You do?!" Gila exclaims.

"Well, a hunch," he corrects. "Let's take a step back: the Particle Accelerator explosion released a lot of dark matter -"

"And don't we know it," Terri grumbles.

"- and it's been affecting people."

"How?" Andre asks.

"They've been developing strange abilities," Barry tells them. "All sorts. We've been calling them 'meta-humans'."

"You and the CCPD?"

"Uh," Barry says. "No. Me and the scientists over at STAR Labs."

"Wells," Terri growls. "Of course he'd know more than he let on."

"He's trying to help," Barry says firmly. "Please try to stay objective, Terri. Anyway: you know how you think the Flash is an urban legend?"

"Less so now, after all the reported sightings," Andre says wryly. "A good scientist admits when their hypothesis is wrong...You're saying the Flash is one of these meta-humans? That the dark matter somehow gave someone the ability to, what, run at incredible speeds?"

"Yes. And not just him; there's another speedster out there, dressed in yellow instead of red and emitting red lightning instead of yellow. I think that speedster is behind the disappearances, and that Chemical X is the residue left behind when he runs."

"A human running at Mach speeds," Gila says thoughtfully. She's the chemical analysis expert of the three of them, compared to Barry's jack-of-all-trades (with an interest in weird stuff), Terri's forensic accounting, and Andre's fingerprint/DNA specialization. "That might do the trick, yeah. But what makes you think it's not the Flash? I've never even heard of this second speedster: Occam's Razor suggests one makes more sense than two."

Ouch. No wonder Captain Cold is suspicious, if even Barry's friends jump to that assumption.

...huh. Maybe the guy really isn't a supervillain - just a very unorthodox cop worried that Barry's up to something.

Barry doesn't know exactly what to do with that thought, so he shelves it for later.

"No," he says. "I know it's not the Flash."

"Why?" Andre asks.

"Well..."

Barry runs.

Just from one end of the lab to the other, but it's enough to make his point.

"Holy crap!" Terri exclaims, amid similar exclamations. "Barry, what the hell?"

"See," he says, grinning. "Told you I knew it wasn't the Flash. Cool, isn't it?"

There's another five solid minutes of yelling about how freaking awesome super-speed is and potential scientific implications and possible applications before they finally settle down.

That, of course, is when Barry breaks out the time travel thing, and that gets all of them yelling again, this time for ten minutes.

Barry enjoys the whole thing. Not just because they do, in fact, think that the whole Flash thing pretty damn awesome but also because some of their ideas about scientific applications of his usual Flash powers are pretty damn neat: learning about brain plasticity by studying the effect of learning at super-speed, the possibility of transferring his healing powers (even if only temporarily) via a blood or bone marrow transfusion, super-speed surgery or fire rescue or even just using it to test the laws of physics as they know them...

Honestly, this is more along the lines of what Barry was expecting when Dr. Wells had asked him to agree to help scientific progress by allowing himself to be studied: crazy brainstorming, hypothesizing, testing, record-keeping with an eye towards eventual publication...

Huh.

Why haven't they done that at STAR Labs? How have they all managed to get so fully fixated on the question of speed, and specifically of maximizing speed? Even before he'd found out about the Man in Yellow and how he needed to catch up to him, everything they'd done had been aimed at making him faster.

Sure, one of the joys of a new discovery is finding out its limits, but getting to a top speed isn't the only limit they could be testing.

Now that he thinks about it, Caitlin's wistful requests to study his biological reactions were always brushed off, as were Cisco's occasional daydreams about trying to replicate even a lower level of speed in his machines; at this point, they've stopped even asking - Caitlin focusing all her research on maximizing his metabolism to enable further speed, Cisco doing nothing but creating new suits that can go faster. No different experiments, no exploring different alternatives, barely any hypothesizing and no control groups at all...

That - isn't how science is supposed to work.

Barry has the distinct sinking feeling that something is even more wrong in STAR Labs than he'd originally thought, and that in his excitement over his new abilities and joy at having new friends, he may have overlooked it entirely.

Great.

He hasn't had a chance to raise the whole Wells issue with his CSI friends yet, but he's starting to think that he might need to raise that on a different visit. Possibly after he's had some time to think about it and figure out if he's just being unduly paranoid or if there really is something off there.

After all, Terri already dislikes Wells, thinking there was something intentional behind the Accelerator explosion; if Barry doesn't tread lightly here, they might not be willing to entertain the possibility that it's all a coincidence.

...a really big coincidence.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Terri eventually shouts, holding up their hands. "Hush. We can brainstorm ideas later. Barry, I assume the difficulty you're having is in both running and analyzing?"

"I definitely leave a residue that appears similar on a surface glance," Barry confirms. "And it seems pretty similar, but I'm worried about there being bias affecting my ability to confirm if it's definitely Chemical X..."

"We have a lab room for testing," Gila says, taking charge. Chemical analysis is her specialty, even though she prefers to throw the weirder things over to Barry. "Come on."

The test, when done properly - Gila insists on several variations, plus a few "control" runs using Andre, which is so normal Barry feels like crying in relief - takes about an hour to finish on the new machines.

Barry spends the whole hour telling the group stories about the metas he's defeated – unsurprisingly, they’re a lot less interested in how he defeated them than they are in just what abilities dark matter can produce, so he eventually gives up on trying to tell them the stories and starts just describing the meta powers and letting them brainstorm possible applications or explanations for them – and trying to decide on whether he should bring up the Wells thing or not.

Assuming there even is a Wells thing beyond some crappy scientific method, bad management skills, and a few weird reactions.

He still hasn't decided by the time the result comes out.

And the result -

"Yep, this is definitely Chemical X or something extremely similar," Gila reports. "The analysis matches on multiple vectors. Congrats, Barry, you have a residue; the only question now is if you're secretly a serial kidnapper."

"Hey!"

"Joking," Gila says, smiling crookedly. "You were definitely in a coma for a few of these early ones. We came to visit a few times. You're all alibi'd out."

"Speaking of which," Terri says from where they and Andre have been pouring over the case files. "Can you come here and double-check some of these? I'm starting to see a pattern, but there are a few outliers."

Barry comes over, noticing that the files have been divided into three piles, one large and two smaller ones. "Yeah, I think -"

"No, no, there's just a few in particular," Terri says. "And I want you to think carefully if there's any chance they could be Flash-adjacent, any chance at all."

Barry nods, frowning. "You think you have something?"

"Well, maybe. I don’t know why the disappearances related to the Flash would be different, they’re still disappearances, but ignoring that, if we try to exclude them, then I think I see two patterns instead of one," Terri says. "It's not unusual in forensic accounting - people are rarely corrupt in only one way, if that makes sense? They usually have a couple of different plots happening at the same time, and that can confuse the results if you look for only one explanation. But these outliers...well, they might just be outliers. But based on the stories you've been telling us, these actually feel like they might be Flash-related, and therefore can be excluded, which would support my theory."

"What do you mean?"

“Well, take this one, Mason Bridges – he was investigating the Flash, right? And then there’s this one, Simon Stagg.”

“What about him?”

“Didn't you say you fought him - or, uh, around him, anyway - at Stagg Industries?”

Barry blinks. He hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah, good point,” he says. “Danton Black – he’s the one who basically committed suicide, it was awful – was trying to get back at Stagg Industries because they stole his work on cellular regeneration and took credit for it.”

“So Stagg witnessed a fight between a meta and the Flash right before he disappeared?”

“Uh,” Barry says. “Yes?”

“So we can say those are tangentially Flash related, too,” Terri says briskly, putting the two files into one of the smaller piles. “And this Farooq guy you mentioned, who used lightning to get rid of your powers and then got driven off –”

“I’m, like, 90% sure he died, but I’m honestly not sure.”

“No body, though,” Terri says. “I’m counting it as a disappearance. Plus you take the fact that that Professor Stein guy’s last known whereabouts were when he was heading to STAR Labs –”

“That was way before my time, though,” Barry objects. “He disappeared before the Accelerator even blew!”

“Good point. I’ll put him in the STAR Labs pile.”

Barry’s eyebrows go up. “STAR Labs pile?”

“As far as I can tell,” Terri says, “a handful of these disappearances can only be connected by the fact that they’re related to STAR Labs, particularly prior to the explosion. Could just be coincidence, but we're dealing with disappearances including the man in charge of building permits, a local paparazzo who went there to look for a scoop and never came back, this professor going there right before the explosion, that sort of thing, and since I'm looking for any pattern at all right now, I'm going to take it. But here's the interesting thing: if we put those aside, and put aside the specifically Flash-related ones as well, the rest of these – ” And here they gestured at the large pile. “– have a significantly more sinister connection.”

“Sinister?” Gila echoes.

Terri makes a face. “I’m pretty sure they’re Family hits.”

“They’re what?! No way!”

“Unfortunately so,” Terri says. “It’s pretty subtle – a lot of these people are only tangentially related to Family stuff, accountants or political figures or hospital staff or county clerks – but I’ve been doing a lot of work for the organized crime division recently, following the money trails, and I recognize some of these names.”

Barry sits down hard, all thoughts of Wells abruptly wiped from his mind. “The Man in Yellow is working as a Family assassin?”

“Possibly,” Terri says, reaching out to tap what they’d dubbed the ‘STAR Labs’ pile thoughtfully. “Not sure how that relates to these one ones if that's the case...Though if they are a Family assassin, the question arises: why? And why aren’t they doing more of them?”

“Assassination at super-speed,” Gila marvels. “They could kill the mayor in the middle of city square and no one could stop them.”

They all look at her.

“It wasn’t a suggestion! I was just saying.”

“The Families aren’t going to act that publicly,” Andre says, shaking his head. “Not in a million years; that’d bring the Feds down on their heads.”

“Not to mention inciting the whole city to riot,” Terri says. “Central’s very ‘oh, well, the Families, what can you do’ most of the time, but public interference on that scale? No way. No one would tolerate it. The only reason they’re tolerated as much as they are now is because most people feel comfortable with the way they’re cordoned off: their operations are mostly focused on the slums, their protection rackets don’t extend to the wealthiest neighborhoods, and so what if they bribe a few councilmen? We all know who they are, so it's almost like having a comforting safety valve.”

“Same with the police,” Barry says, making a face. “We all know which guys are in Family pockets are, so we all shrug it off, saying it’s better to know who it is than not to know.”

“I wasn’t saying they’d do it,” Gila protests. “Just that they could, you know, and what are people going to say? A streak of light did it? How would they even connect that to the Families? If they don’t know there are two speedsters, they’d probably just assume it was the Flash!”

Uh.

Barry hadn’t thought of that.

“Everyone would just assume it was the Families, even if they also thought it was the Flash,” Andre points out. “Everyone always blames crime in Central on the Families, and they’re usually right, too.”

Right.

Whew.

Barry doesn't want to deal with the thought of being framed at super-speed.

“I have a better question, though,” Andre continues. “If these are the Families, why are there so many? Like Terri said, the Families exist in a pretty tight balance in Central: enough influence to rule the streets, not enough to bother the movers and shakers. This many hits, in such a short amount of time? That’s not balanced. They must be planning something big.”

“The Families have been fading in power recently,” Terri offers. “Power-wise. The Feds have been taking huge bites out of them for the last decade and a half, ambushing major deals, busting huge deposits, blocking key intake lines…”

Barry snaps his fingers. “Captain Cold!”

“…what?”

“No, sorry, the new Internal Affairs guy, Captain Snart,” Barry says. “Captain Singh told me that he used to be undercover, that his cover got blown, and that the Families are still trying to kill him. He’s been helping bring them down!”

“And now he’s changed tracks to start taking down corrupt Family-bribed cops?” Gila asks, sounding impressed. “I mean, good for him; that's real dedication and work ethic there, at least for the three weeks he’s probably got left to live until the Families murder him. Especially with these disappearances.”

“Holy crap,” Barry says.

“What?”

“No, it just occurred to me,” Barry says. “All these disappearances – the Anti-Flash Task Force, which Captain Snart is involved with, is looking into these disappearances. Like you said, if you don’t know there’s two speedsters, you think it’s the Flash! That’s why he’s looking into the Flash!”

“Reasonable enough,” Terri says.

Barry shakes his head. He’s been so obsessed with trying to figure out Captain Cold’s evil plan – because, like, the guy has a mask, a superpowered cold gun, cold puns, supervillain is clearly the obvious conclusion here – that even though the thought had occurred to him once or twice, he’d never really believed in the possibility that maybe the guy is actually, well, doing his job.

Except – it seems like that’s probably what’s going on.

So weird.

“I’m going to need to think about this,” Barry says.

“Make sense,” Gila says. “Now what, though? I assume you don’t want to out yourself as the Flash.”

“Definitely not.”

“I’ll write up a draft report about how these particular disappearances appear linked to the Families,” Terri offers. “That’ll get everyone on the right track, I think, without needing to get into the other ones being Flash-related. But Gila will eventually need to submit something on the residue…”

“I can say it might be related to a speedster,” Gila says. “But that might lead him to suspect the Flash more…”

“No, you should still do that, even if it makes him suspicious,” Barry says. “Stopping this guy is the top priority, above everything else. If I have to stop being the Flash for a while or talk to Captain Snart about what I’m doing, I’ll do that. I’ll figure something out.”

“Good luck!”

Barry heads back to the office, torn between being absolutely elated at the progress they’re making and kind of horrified at what they’ve discovered. Somehow, even though he’d signed up to be a superhero, he hadn’t really thought about going up against the Families – the closest he’d come was fighting Nimbus, and that’d been one of the toughest fights he’d had yet –

There’s someone in his office.

It’s pretty late, getting close to nine p.m.; the building should be deserted. The CSI lab, which is basically Barry’s private area, should definitely be deserted; there shouldn’t be someone walking around with only one dim phone light to guide them.

What the hell’s going on?

Barry reaches inside the room and flips on all the lights at once.

“Jesus fuck!” the intruder swears, clutching at his eyes to shield himself from the glare.

The intruder –

“Detective Lloyd?” Barry asks, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for some of case files and evidence someone checked out,” Lloyd says, sounding annoyed. “What’re you doing here? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I had to duck out for an appointment,” Barry lies. “I came back to finish up some projects. You know, if you think the evidence is up here, then the only person who could’ve checked them out is me – which cases are you looking for? I might be able to help you find it.”

Lloyd rattles off some case numbers.

Those are a few of the disappearance cases, some of the ones they’d determined were probably Family hits.

“Oh, yeah, I know where those are,” Barry says, heading towards the evidence cabinet, as he's mentally dubbed it. “Gimme a second. How long do you need them? I still have a few tests I'd like to run..."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Allen," Lloyd says.

Barry pauses in the middle of pulling out the evidence bags. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how it is. What with the Commissioner running for office and all, that means Deputy Commissioner Gillick's going to be moving up soon, and he doesn't like too much spending," Lloyd says, reaching out and plucking the bags out of Barry's hands. "Especially on low-priority cases like this."

"I know they're not at the top of the queue," Barry says, a little stung. "But they're still important. In fact -"

He's about to tell Lloyd about the Family connection, but Lloyd cuts him off.

"They're low-priority, Allen," he says. "Trust me. No one wants to be wasting time looking into these. Just relax, will you? Take another - heh - day off. We've got a pretty good handle on these cases." He waves the bag. "And we're pretty sure there's nothing all that serious to them."

"But -"

"That's final, Allen," Lloyd says. "Listen, take a tip from a friend, yeah? You want people to like you, you do your job, you do it well, and you don't step on people's toes in the process. It's not like these cases are going down the memory chute or something; we're just bumping them down so they don't interfere with more important stuff. You hear me?"

"I hear you," Barry says, still frowning.

Lloyd slaps him on the back, says, "I knew you weren't as uptight as they say," and heads out.

Barry would normally spend the next hour stressing out about who 'they' are and the fact that he's totally not uptight but do people think he is, but he's too busy being utterly appalled.

Why would Lloyd be warning Barry off a Family-related case? He's not one of the cops in the Family pocket, not even slightly; there's never been a hint of scandal there.

Honestly, if Barry hadn't known it was a Family case, he probably wouldn't have even thought it was all that weird. Lloyd's heavy-handed suggestion to butt out is practically normal for cops, who are notoriously protective of their cases, and even the weird hour he came by isn't all that unusual for a cop.

It's not that Barry's worried or anything, of course: once Terri and the others submit their report, the cases will be upgraded once more, no matter what Lloyd says.

But - it is a Family case. And Lloyd tried to squelch it.

Why would he do that, if it wasn't on the orders of one of the Families? Was it on someone else's orders? If so, who, and why is Lloyd listening to them?

What's going on here?

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 6 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

Getting a summons to "meet me in my office in five, Allen" from the Big Guy is never a good sign, particularly when Barry's, like, 95% sure he hasn't done anything recently.

Anything, like, oh, masquerading as a police officer. Taking unapproved days off without notice. Investigating supernatural events with a CCPD badge and pretending he's sanctioned.

All things he's been yelled at before.

But he hasn't done any of those things recently! That’s got to be worth something, right?

Of course, now he has all his secret work as the Flash...

Barry slips into Captain Singh's office and offers a hopeful smile. Maybe this is just a chat, not a yelling at?

The smile is not returned.

Yeah, this is definitely a yelling at.

Singh is on the phone, so he just waves for Barry to sit down while he finishes up.

Barry does so, snagging a pen from Singh's desk as he does. Maybe if he just holds onto the pen, he won't embarrass himself by flailing.

Singh eventually finishes the call and turns to look at Barry.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment.

Barry's dying here. Seriously.

"What are you doing, Allen?" Singh finally says with a sigh.

"Uh," Barry says, fiddling with the pen between his fingers and promptly dropping it with a loud clatter that makes him flinch. So very not cool, Barry. "I don't know what you mean? Sir."

"I bet you don't," Singh says, more to himself than Barry.

"Have there been any problems with my work?" Barry tries, figuring that must be the issue. "If it's about the paperwork, I know it was late, but I did get it all done -"

About five seconds before coming into Singh's office.

But no, Singh's shaking his head.

Barry frowns. "With my results, then?" He's fiercely protective of his work, like any CSI, and he'll stand behind his work product any day. Sure, he's been distracted by the Flash business, but he hasn't let it impact his actual work.

He thinks.

"No, Allen," Singh says. "Your results are fine."

"Okay," Barry says, relieved but also deeply confused. If it's not any of those, and he's pretty sure Singh doesn't know about the Flash stuff, then what could it be? "Then why'd you call me in here? Uh, sir?"

"Someone's been doing some searches in the personnel files with your login," Singh says. "It sent up some flags. I want to know if it was you."

Personnel files? Why would Barry be looking in -

Oh.

Right.

The Captain Cold investigation.

Cisco hadn't been able to hack the CCPD (something about their systems being too antiquated) and they didn't want to bother Felicity, who'd gone back to Starling in a hurry to inform Oliver of the possibility of supervillain cops, which apparently hadn’t ever occurred to either of them, so Barry figured he could start off the investigation himself by checking the files through legitimate channels.

He'd checked the public directory, but couldn’t find anything other than Captain Cold’s real name (“Snart, Leonard Jacob,” apparently, which, seriously, poor guy – Barry wouldn’t much like being named something like ‘Snart’ in middle school, he can tell you that much), so he’d set a search running on the personal file database earlier - the CCPD computers were protected not so much by their firewalls but by their sheer ancient creaking weight, and that meant they ran slower than glaciers - and went back to work, forgetting all about it.

And now Captain Singh is asking questions.

"Uh," Barry says. "I mean. That is..."

"That's what I thought," Singh says with a sigh. "I'm going to pretend for both our sakes that those searches were a mistake, Allen, and you're going to drop it. Now."

"What? Why? It's just personnel files, those aren't confidential -"

"They are if someone's undercover," Singh says.

Barry pauses. "But Captain Cold - uh, Snart - is the head of IA."

AKA, not a member of undercover operations.

"That's right," Singh says. "But he was an undercover guy for nearly twenty years before that. Family work."

Barry's eyes go wide. "Wow." He's never met anyone who’d done serious undercover ops, much less Family work. Much less for twenty years! "And he survived?"

"Barely," Singh tells him, his mouth tight. "He didn't get caught for years, one of the best guys we had on the inside, and then it all blew up because someone here in the CCPD spilled the beans on him, leading to him getting tortured and shot a few times."

Oh, shit.

Well, that's certainly a reason to be on the warpath against CCPD cops. A pretty valid reason, too.

"I thought - Joe said - that is -"

"Let me guess," Singh says, his voice suddenly very dry. "Nasty old Captain Cold's unreasonably biased against all cops, guilty or otherwise, because he's got unresolved issues with his abusive dad that he's taking out on the rest of us? Seems like that’s Detective West's favorite line, nowadays."

Barry winces. "Yes, sir."

"Don't get me wrong, Allen," Singh says. "I know West. I know that he means well, and I know that he's a damn fine detective when he pulls his head out of his ass, but sometimes..." Singh shakes his head. "Most of the precinct listens to him, too, which isn't helping any of us."

Yeah, Barry can see the problem there.

"Anyway," Singh says, voice brisk again. "As I was saying, Captain Snart's records are still sealed because he's still the number one target for multiple Families."

"That must be why he wears a mask!" Barry exclaims.

Singh stares at him.

"Uh," Barry says. "Or so Joe tells me. There was an incident -"

"Thank you, I'm familiar with the incident in question," Singh says. He looks like he has a headache. "Yes, you're correct; Captain Snart has decided that wearing a mask will be useful in maintaining his personal security while he pursues – certain lines of investigation -"

"The new joint task force?" Barry asks. He'd heard whispers. "It's related to the Fl- I mean, the Streak, right?"

"Or whatever weird stuff's been going on in Central recently, yes," Singh says, looking even more pained. "I don't suppose you've got any insight on that?"

Barry should probably tell Captain Singh about the metahumans. But if he does, then Singh will want to know how he knows, and that would turn attention onto Wells and STAR Labs and maybe even on the Flash himself, and then Captain Cold will have everything he needs to come after all of them, putting Barry's friends and loved ones in danger...

"I didn't think so," Singh says when Barry remains quiet. "As it happens, yes, the new task force will be focusing on the Streak, among other things. It'll be co-run by Captain Snart and myself; he'll be taking lead personally, since he doesn't have much of a staff yet -"

Too paranoid to trust anyone, Barry interprets.

"- and I'll be assigning one of my detectives to be his local liaison."

Barry nods. That sounded about right. "Understood, sir. If you don't mind my asking, which detective were you thinking? Because I know Joe would be interested..."

Joe would be pissed off beyond all belief at having to work with Captain Cold, but, on the other hand, it would give Team Flash an inside man on the CCPD's investigation into the Flash. That way Joe would be able to give them updates, warn them of any trouble, even redirect the lines of inquiry away from them, maybe plant some misleading clues...

Barry feels sick all of a sudden. What he was just thinking sounds an awful lot like corruption.

Like exactly the sort of corruption the head of IA would be looking for.

Like the sort of corruption that Barry fought so hard against when it was Dibny doing it.

Fuck.

Yeah, maybe all of that stuff might be necessary to keep the CCPD from finding out about the Flash. But if deceiving the police to such an extent is necessary just for him to stay operational, what does that say about what Barry is doing?

Is Barry really doing the right thing in being the Flash, if it means that he has to break laws and corrupt the course of justice to do it?

"- wouldn't agree to take him, and I can't blame him," Singh is saying. "He's agreed to take Detective Thawne instead."

Eddie.

Barry's first thought, shameful as it is to admit, is to wonder how Iris will react to finding out her boyfriend is involved in hunting down her hero.

But - no. No, Barry. No hoping that she gets angry and breaks up with Eddie, and then somehow discovers she's always been in love with you via some unrealistic twist of events. You're better than that.

You should be better than that.

Besides, you're going out with Cool Coffee Guy (Len!) later today.

As friends, sure, but still.

"Listen to me, Allen," Singh says, rapping his knuckles against his desk to get Barry's attention. "You need to step lightly for a while, okay? It's hard for all of us, having IA staffed here, and a lot of people are very angry for a lot of different reasons, some of which are more justified than others. There's a reason that your little search threw up red flags so quickly. So whatever it is that you may have heard that sparked your interest in Captain Snart, you need to drop it."

"But -"

"Allen. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Barry says. "It wasn't anything in specific, sir; I was just curious about him. Sir."

Singh looks at Barry for a long moment. "Allen," he finally says. "What I'm going to tell you doesn't leave this room, okay? And I'm only telling you because I know you're boneheaded enough to try to find a different way to keep tracking Snart down, and I want to make it clear to you why that would be a bad idea, okay?"

Barry nods, his interest piqued. "Yes, sir. I can keep a secret, sir."

"Captain Snart's looking at you."

Barry freezes.

No.

No!

How - did he know - how could he know - Cold couldn't have figured Barry's identity out so quickly - are the others in danger? Joe? Iris? The STAR Labs team?

Barry needs to warn them. Cold could be going after them even now - there could be warrants - charges – shit, even just accessory after the fact or conspiracy could be enough to put them in prison - why hadn't Barry thought about any of that, why hadn't any of them thought about it -

"It has to do with your leave of absence," Singh says, oblivious to Barry's rising panic. "Now, I've tried to tell him that you're not involved with the Families -"

"The Families?!" Barry exclaims, abruptly derailed from his prior line of thought. "I would never work with – wait. He thinks I'm working with the Families?"

"Nine months is about as much time as it would take someone to get in through the ranks as a blood-sworn Family man, if they went at it intensively enough," Singh says. "And Captain Snart would know that better than most."

The Families.

The Families, not the Flash.

Captain Cold doesn't know yet.

Captain Cold doesn't know yet.

He's just made a lucky guess, investigating both Barry Allen and the Flash at the same time.

Lucky, or maybe Joe is right and the guy really is investigating everyone all the time.

"- and that's why you need to tread carefully for once, you hear me, Allen? You're a good kid, you do good work, important work, but you're reckless; you always have been. I don't want to lose my on-site CSI to an IA investigation, okay?"

"Okay," Barry says.

Singh pins him with a look. "I'm serious, Allen. If you go down, even on charges ultimately found to be false, all of your cases will be reopened and reexamined for any mistake, intentional or otherwise, and anything they find could be used to put criminals back out on the street where they can start hurting people again. Snart's already sent some of your cases to forensics to be looked over."

Barry's back straightens in offense. He's not corrupt. He's not working with the Families. And he'd never fake his work! "I stand behind my results, sir."

"And your results stand behind you," Singh agrees. "I don't think he's found anything there - he said something about some weird centrifuge results, but nothing that'd affect the analysis -"

...oops.

Barry has been using his speed powers to do the analysis and get the results he'd normally have to wait to use the centrifuge for, especially when the office's sole machine is busy on something else. He hadn't realized that it would be noticeable, though of course he should have. He knows very well that every machine of that type leaves its own special trace, working at a different speed, a different set of kinks, a recognizable pattern - Barry's job is literally based on uncovering little details like that.

Of course, Barry also didn't realize that anyone would ever look at his tests for anything other than the end result.

He's going to have to stop cutting corners.

...when did Barry start cutting corners, anyway? Wasn't that what he got so pissed off at Dibny about, the cheating, the laziness, the corruption?

Crap. Maybe this Captain Cold guy has a point about the CCPD needing to shape up.

(But if he's right about the CCPD, then what does that say about the Flash..?)

"- but either way, I want to know that you're taking me seriously," Singh says. "No searches on Captain Snart. No extracurricular investigations, no mysterious sick days, none of it, and certainly none of those stunts like you used to pull with pretending something is an official investigation. You get me? Those are all on your record if someone looks hard enough, and someone's looking. You want to get through this, you need to be clean and you need to be hands off. Understood?"

Barry looks Singh straight in the eyes. "Yes, sir. I understand."

And he means it, too.

Singh seems to get that, because he relaxes. "Good. Dismissed, Allen. And make sure that that paperwork's actually in people's inboxes, rather than sitting on your desk."

Barry nods and leaves, feeling more than a bit shaken.

He joined the CCPD to make things right for his dad, to find out the truth behind what happened to his mom, but it wasn’t just for them. When Barry took his oath to join the force, he meant it with all his heart – he swore that he'd do his job right not just for himself, but for everyone else in the process, too. He became a CSI rather than a cop because he loved science, really loved it, and because he wanted to make sure someone was checking the work of the cops who took the easy answer waiting for them the way they had with his dad.

When did he start taking the easy way himself?

Is this how it started, with the little things: not wanting to wait for the office centrifuge, getting lazy with his documentation, fudging a bit on his time entries to account for the fact that he can work so much faster now? With a desire to do good, but to do it faster, better, easier?

Is this how Dibny started?

Barry doesn't like that thought. Oh, he wasn't wrong about Dibny - the man planted evidence on someone, for God's sake. That's absolutely unforgivable, a violation of everything the police stand for; when it had been uncovered, the hit to the CCPD's credibility had been a bad one, but not as bad as if Dibny'd actually succeeded in sending the man to jail based on his phony evidence.

Not as bad as it would have been if it'd been covered up.

But now Barry's starting to wonder about his own actions, too. This Flash thing - he is breaking the law, he knows he is, but on the other hand, he's trying to help people in a way he knows the CCPD can't. Surely that justifies it. Right?

Isn't he helping?

Sure, when Barry's fighting metas, that's one thing. The CCPD doesn't know how to handle them - though they'd stand a better shot at if they knew about them in the first place, the voice in Barry's head whispers, why are we keeping this a secret - and in those situations, then yes, Barry's powers mean that he’s the one best positioned to act. He doesn't want good people like Joe getting hurt because they're up against things they're not trained for, things they aren’t equipped to handle, people with powers way above their punching level.

But what about the robberies? D'Angelo - sure, Barry stopped him, and there's a chance the police wouldn't have responded in time to such an audacious attack on a traveling vehicle. But did that make Barry's actions right?

Unlike Captain Cold, Barry's not a cop. He's not authorized to arrest people whenever he sees a crime in progress, not any more than any normal person making a citizen's arrest – and as a CSI, he knows better than most that the rules for those are pretty limited. Maybe he could weasel away the D'Angelo incident, but some of the other ones...

But on the other hand, if Barry can do good in his own way, then isn't he obligated to do it, even if it means he has to work outside the rules?

Yeah. Barry bets that's just what Dibny told himself when he was planting that knife.

Great. A major crisis of conscience is just what the Flash needs right now.

Barry wonders, a little resentfully, if this is part of Captain Cold's evil plan.

Or not-so-evil plan. He hasn't actually heard much about Captain Snart that's really bad, just that he's both a stickler for rules and a reckless crazy person and vicious and ruthless and -

To be fair, most of the bad stuff Barry's heard has been from cops angry that one of their own is being investigated, no matter how just the cause. Surely if they realize that the cause is just, they'll stop being so...

No, they won't.

They won't stop being angry, the way they've never entirely warmed back up to Barry after the whole Dibny thing. The only reason Barry's even halfway as accepted as he is? It’s because Joe ran some serious interference on his behalf, pleading childhood trauma as an excuse. Barry knows that to be true, even though he prefers not to think about it.

He sighs.

"Is the sightseeing good, wherever it is in your head that you've drifted off to now?"

Barry turns with a smile. "Iris! What are you doing here?"

Iris is beaming, the honest joy in her face making her glow. She's radiant and beautiful and everything Barry's ever wanted. "Oh, you know, catching up with people," she says, waving a hand. "And something I can't quite tell you about yet, so don't even ask."

"Scout's honor," Barry promises.

"You were never a scout, Barry Allen," Iris teases. "You okay? You were pretty out of it."

"Oh, it's nothing," Barry says. "I just got called in to talk to Singh - late paperwork, you know -"

"You get going on that paperwork, then!" she exclaims. "Shoo, shoo!"

"Iris!" Barry laughs.

"But no, seriously, I'm just passing by," she says. "I promised Dad I'd pick something up for him, you know the drill, but I have to run as soon as I find him."

"He's in the back," Barry says. "With Ballistics, I think."

"You're the best, Bar," Iris says, unaware of the pang that causes in Barry's chest. "Say, what're you doing tonight? Me and Eddie are planning to check out that new art installation in the park -"

"Oh, man, you know I'd love to -" There is literally nothing Barry would like less than to gatecrash one of Eddie and Iris' dates. "- but I have plans."

Iris looks skeptical.

Somewhat justifiably.

"Really!" Barry says, glad that, for once, he actually does have plans. "I'm meeting someone for dinner."

Iris' smile broadens. "A special someone?"

"...maybe," Barry allows. "But not yet; we're still just getting to know each other!"

"You'll have to tell me everything," Iris says. "Is it Felicity?"

"No - Iris, I told you already, we're just friends -"

Iris makes a not-entirely-believing noise. "Sure," she says. "Anyway, I really do have to run. You free for lunch, then? By then I should have permission to talk about some news that I really want to share - and I think you're going to like it, too!"

"Really? What -"

"No way," Iris says. "Wait until later."

"You and your surprises," Barry says fondly, then he goes upstairs and he sits down and he works.

For once, he doesn't rush through his day, daydreaming of things he could be doing as the Flash. He doesn’t stare at the clock, he doesn’t play on his phone, he doesn’t leave in the middle of the day to go train himself to be faster – he focuses on doing what he’s supposed to do.

It’s his job, his stupid frustrating wonderful important job, and he likes what he does.

When did he let that get eclipsed by the Flash?

Wells texts him after a while, asking where he is. When Barry explains that he’s at work, Wells asks why he doesn’t just speed through his work then sneak out for a few hours to train his speed some more, the way he's been doing on a nearly daily basis these last few weeks.

Barry winces, thinking about it. He’s been treating his day job like a joke, like it was something he did on the side while he focused entirely on being the Flash, and that’s not fair to the people he’s supposed to be working for – the men and women whose lives could be irrevocably altered based on what facts he’s able to prove or disprove in his lab.

People like his dad.

No, Barry can’t just go play superhero all the time. This is important, too.

He texts Wells back, explaining that he needs to catch up on some work things he's been neglecting.

Wells takes a while to understand, which Barry really can’t blame him for – Barry’s been showing up religiously for Wells’ tests and experiments and suggestions on how Barry can get ever faster – but it’s a little annoying that Barry has to reiterate three times that yes, his job is important, yes it’s just as important as getting faster as the Flash, no, he’s not coming to STAR Labs even if there's been a new meta sighting, not until there’s actual evidence of the meta doing something wrong, so please don't call unless people are actually in imminent danger.

He ends up texting something a little snippier than he really meant it to be, saying something about how getting faster isn’t exactly his top priority all the time and that Wells needs to respect that, but eventually his message gets through and Wells apologizes for pushing.

With that done, Barry goes back to focusing on doing his work well and doing his work right.

He -

He has a lot of fun, actually.

It's not just the pride he gets from obtaining results, but rather the actual fun of doing science. Taking down results, thinking about them, analyzing them, selecting what process would be best to put them through rather than just running the standard tests and calling it a day -

He even calls the main CSI building to ask some of his CSI colleagues about a weird result he's been getting from a few different crime scenes.

"Barry!" Gila exclaims in an ear-piercing shriek of excitement. Not surprising; Gila always did believe that conversations were ideally had at capslock volume. "Well, this is a surprise!"

"We were starting to think we should rename you MIA Allen instead of CSI Allen," Andre jokes. Looks like Barry’s on speakerphone.

"What's new in cop-land?" Terri asks. It’s always hard to tell over the phone, but Barry thinks they’re feeling more feminine today than masculine; he’ll try to keep that in mind. "Bored and begging to come back to Scienceland Central City yet?"

"Every time I call, I remember that you're all a bunch of jerks," Barry teases, immediately at ease. He's always gotten along surprisingly great with his fellow CSIs, even if he’s the only on-site crime scene tech stationed at this precinct while the rest of them are busy being forensic investigative scientists in the suburbs. "Must be a side-effect of being stuck out in the boonies, huh?"

"Suburbs," Gila sniffs, clearly not offended in the slightest. "Stuck out in the suburbs. At a high-end fully-equipped CSI laboratory with all the fun toys in the world, let me remind you."

"You ought to come out to visit us sometime," Terri says. "We've got a whole pile of new equipment named after you."

Barry laughs.

"No, really," Andre says. "The city paid for it in the name of improving workplace safety after you had your accident at work - like anyone could predict a lightning strike."

"Or the Accelerator explosion," Barry agrees.

"No, that could have been predicted," Terri says, voice suddenly intense. "There were signs - workplace norms being ignored, protests overridden, sudden dismissals in clear retaliation -"

"Whoa, whoa, where's this come from?" Barry asks, taken aback. Terri's one of the best forensic accounting experts he's ever met; they could have any job they wanted at any major institution, but, like Barry, only ever wanted to be a CSI.

"Terri's pet project," Gila says. "Proving that the Accelerator explosion was intentional."

A shiver goes down Barry's back. "No, you don't understand," he says. "It was an accident - things were definitely overlooked, yes, Wells said as much in his press conference last week -"

"Oh, right, that whole claptrap," Andre says scornfully. "I bet you dollars to donuts that he only did that because some whistle-blower came forward."

Technically, yes, it had been after Hartley Rathaway had made those accusations – and tried to blow up STAR Labs and part of the city with his sonic blasters – but –

"I lost friends in that explosion," Terri says, still angry. "Cars that crashed, fire patrols and ambulances that never made it to their destinations, people that just disappeared - it was bad. And I was depressed, but there wasn't anything I could do about it because it was just a tragic accident. I wanted to reassure myself that at least they did everything they could - except they didn't. Their construction timeline is unreal - fourteen missed safety tests - evidence of bribery -"

"Bribery?" Barry asks, a sharp pang in his chest. It's like everywhere he goes, there's corruption all around him. And yes, he knows that Central City has something of a reputation in that line, but he'd always tried to keep himself clean...

"Oh yeah, definitely," Terri says. "Property board approvals, safety inspectors, the works; I've got transfers out of Harrison Wells' private accounts that match up perfectly. But no one wants to do anything because -" And their voice turns sticky-sweet-sarcastic. "- hasn't he been punished enough, he broke his back, he lost his reputation, oh no, must be just awful sitting there being a multi-millionaire -"

"I know Wells," Barry protests. "He's sincerely remorseful."

"You would think so, B," Terri says. "You've always been the nicest one of us."

"No, I mean, I actually know him - I'm friends with some of the STAR Labs employees -"

"Bring them to one of our science parties, then," Gila says. "We've missed you, you know! It's like you don't have time for us since you woke up from your coma - which, don't get me wrong, you must have a million doctor's visits -"

He doesn't, not really. And sure, they're only work friends, but he still used to like hanging out with them - all of them at the misfit table, Andre sometimes joked -

"I'll introduce you," Barry promises. Cisco and Caitlin are misfits and science nerds, too; they'll fit right in. It'll be great. "You'll love them."

"I'm sure we will," Andre says. "Why'd you call, anyway? I assume it wasn't to shoot the shit on company time."

"No, no," Barry says. "I’m being good for once, really! I called about something I found in those disappearances cases, the ones that got sent up to me because someone started thinking might be connected, you know? Anyway, there's a residue in the dirt surrounding each of the scenes that I can't seem to place -"

"Oooh, you mean Chemical X?" Gila interrupts.

"Wait," Barry says. "Is that a Powerpuff Girls reference?"

"Gila found it first, so she had naming rights," Andre says, long-suffering. "Anyway, we know what you mean - it's been spotted all over the city, near these disappearances, possibly elsewhere, and it doesn't match up to anything we're familiar with."

"Tar made from jet engine exhaust is a weirdly close match," Gila says. "But it has similarities to charcoal and to skid marks, too! It's so weird. It's not like there's a jet plane running through the streets of Central City."

Barry looks at his feet with a sudden suspicion. "What about the Streak?"

"Urban legend," Andre says immediately.

"It is not, you old skeptic!" Gila shouts back.

"You had to get them started on that again," Terri groans. "Ugh, Barry, why? I'm the one who has to sit with them."

"Sorry," Barry says, managing not to grin only because he's pretty sure Terri would know, somehow. He's not sorry at all.

"Anyway," Terri continues, "putting aside the 'is it/isn't it' debate, what we do know for sure is that the residue started appearing around crime sites seven, maybe eight, months ago, well before the Streak made its first appearance."

Huh. Seven months ago, Barry was still in a coma. So it's not him.

Maybe another meta?

"Anyway, we're glad you called," Gila says after she's exhausted her well-worn (barely) muffled argument with Andre. "Weirdo residue is right up your alley, Allen. How's that supernatural blog going, anyway?"

Barry can't help but smile a little. He's almost entirely forgotten about that blog. He hasn't had much time for anything but Flash stuff lately, not really...

There's a loud knock on his door. "Oops," Barry says. "Reality calls."

"Boooo," the other three chorus.

Barry laughs. "I will take a closer look at that residue, though, run some extra tests," he promises.

"Come down to the lab sometime! You can try out the new machines!"

"Sounds like a plan."

"Oh, and Allen?" Terri says. "One more thing. Could you check through the archives over there? I wanna know how far back this residue really goes - seven months ago just means that that's as far back as we've been looking, nothing more."

"Sure," Barry agrees, though he doubts he'll find anything pre-dating the Accelerator explosion if it is in fact a meta. "Later, guys."

He hangs up and turns to face - Eddie?

"Oh, crap," Barry says. "Lunch with Iris! I'm so sorry, I totally forgot -"

His lateness thing has never been about his speed, after all.

"No, no," Eddie says, holding up his hands with a smile. "That's not - well, actually, that is why I'm here, sort of. Lunch is cancelled on account of - and I swear I'm quoting Iris here - West family drama."

Barry can't help a grin. "Oh boy, that bad? Did Joe try something else to try to tank your relationship?"

"Nope, it's a new one," Eddie says, grinning back and pulling a chair over. "Mind if I take refuge here for a bit? They're still fighting downstairs right next to my desk, so I took my break early..."

"Sure," Barry says. As he's discovered over the past few weeks, he actually does like Eddie, despite every Iris-related reason not to. "Something new, huh? What is it?"

"Her new project. I warned her Joe wouldn't take it as well as she thought he would," Eddie says, shaking his head.

“Sounds juicy,” Barry says fondly. “Is this what she was going to reveal over lunch?”

“Yep, exactly that. I’m sure she won’t mind if I spill the beans, though, if you don’t mind hearing it from me instead of her..?”

“If it means staying out of a West family fight?” Barry asks with a laugh. “Spill away.”

Eddie grins. "Okay, you know how he's been leaning on her about that Streak - uh, Flash blog of hers? Saying it's dangerous and she should stop writing it because it might make her a target because this Flash guy could be anyone?"

That last one wasn't exactly Joe's reason, for obvious reasons, but Barry wasn't about to say so. He knows all of Joe's arguments along those lines; he'd used many of the same ones himself to try to convince Iris to stay out of the superhero reporting business.

Hadn’t worked, of course. Another massive Iris-related failure he really shouldn’t have been surprised by...

"I thought you said it was a new argument they were having?" he says dryly.

"It is, I swear," Eddie says. "Anyway, Iris thought he'd be happy because she finally agreed that she shouldn't be working on reporting Flash related things without adequate protection."

That does sound like something that would make Joe happy.

It also doesn't exactly sound like Iris.

Barry says as much. Eddie laughs. "Yeah, well, I think Joe was going for more 'stop writing anything about it' and less 'keep writing about it, just with police support'."

A chill goes down Barry's spine. "Police support? What do you mean?"

"Captain Singh's got me on the new Flash task force that Captain Snart is running," Eddie says. "Did you hear...?”

Barry nods.

“Anyway, we were talking a bit about it, Captain Snart and I, and he ended up going to talk to Iris himself, since she's one of the few people other than him that's actually spoken with this Flash guy. And, long story short, he’s agreed that she can help us out as part of the task force – she's actually going to be working with us in a consulting role. A full-time, getting-paid consulting role...it’s her first big break into real journalism!"

Eddie beams when he concludes the sentence, clearly proud of Iris for having been offered an official role like that, but Barry's too busy gaping at him to share in the joy that he would normally have upon hearing about Iris’ career finally getting moving.

He'd been worried about Captain Cold getting to Iris, maybe even had a few daydreams about rescuing her from some extremely low-key and non-threatening but maybe mildly traumatizing kidnapping, but he'd never imagined he'd get to her like this.

"Hold up," Barry says, swallowing through a suddenly dry throat. "You're telling me that Iris agreed to join an anti-Flash task force? I thought - I thought she liked him!"

"She does," Eddie agrees, clearly slightly confused by Barry's admittedly odd reaction. "Captain Snart cut a deal with her - well, honestly I think he was planning on doing it anyway and just used his talk with her to formalize it. The task force is designed to analyze the Flash's actions and recommend a solution. If Iris is right and he's not doing damage, he'll get leniency based on the idea that he's just being overzealous citizen rather than an actual criminal. But if Captain Snart is right and he's involved in criminal activity, then he gets arrested and faces the full force of the law."

"And Iris agreed?"

"She didn't see any reason not to," Eddie points out. "She really believes in this Flash guy."

"So she's helping the police hunt him down?!"

"It's his only chance of clearing his name, Barry," Eddie says with a slight frown. "He might even be able to work out some deal with the city this way, get some official backing or something like that. Otherwise, if he keeps doing what he's doing after being warned off by the police, then he doesn't have even the excuse of ignorance anymore. He's breaking the law, Barry. I know it doesn't always seem that way - he's right out of the comic books, isn't he? - but it's like that vigilante in Starling, the one who murders people -"

"The Arrow doesn't murder people anymore," Barry protests weakly, still reeling.

"And, what, that somehow excuses the murders he already committed while he was still going as the Hood?" Eddie says skeptically.

“We don’t even know if this Arrow guy is the same guy as the Hood,” Barry points out, feeling a bit guilty, because he happens to know that they are the same person.

Also, that's a good point about those past murders...

“There can’t be that many super-athletic archers willing to become vigilantes,” Eddie objects. He has a point, though Barry’s pretty sure Oliver’s mentioned there being at least three or four. Though now that Barry thinks about it, that does seem like an unusually high number of people to interested in a very specific combination of parkour, martial arts and archery... "Either way, just because some people think they're above the law to the point that they can take it into their own hands doesn't mean they should be doing it."

"But - but what if the things these people are fighting are something the police can't fight?"

"That's why this task force is analytical in nature," Eddie explains. "If we figure out that this Flash guy really is doing stuff that we can't - which I personally don't think is the case, but Iris disagrees with me - then Captain Snart is willing to cut him a break and say he's been working under a citizens' arrest sort of deal. Maybe even hire him to work with the CCPD. But first we have to find him."

It's a good plan. A solid plan.

If it wasn't being suggested by a supervillain, Barry might even be tempted to agree with it.

It's not that he has anything against working with the CCPD, after all - it's not even a bad idea, he's not sure why Team Flash didn't think of it - but the fact that Captain Cold is involved...

Not good.

"Anyway, you know how Joe feels about Captain Snart," Eddie says ruefully. "He nearly bit my head off about joining the task force - right before he turned around and asked me to keep him updated about it. But either way, Iris thought Joe would be happy to hear that she'd have police protection in all future dealings with the Flash, but instead he blew his lid when he found out about it, probably because the police protection is Captain Snart."

Yeah, Barry's not feeling too happy about that either.

It'd never even occurred to him that he was taking Iris' unflinching support of the Flash - even in the face of his own half-hearted arguments against the Flash that he'd made in the hopes that she'd drop the blog thing like Joe wanted - for granted.

He just - it's Iris. She's always been on his side, even when she didn't know it was him.

And now she's been tricked into being on the supervillain's side, instead.

Barry doesn't even know what Captain Cold wants!

And worst of all, what if Barry's sinking suspicions are right and Captain Cold's not a supervillain? What if he's exactly what he claims to be: a cop worried about a vigilante gone wild? A vigilante with unimaginable powers?

Wasn't that why Cisco built the cold gun, after all? He'd been worried about Barry turning out to be just like all those other metas, the ones that abused their powers and went evil; it was only after he got to know Barry that he realized that Barry wouldn't do that.

The CCPD don't know the Flash is Barry. They barely even have confirmed proof of his existence. No wonder they're suspicious!

And, more to the point, why hasn't Barry thought of any of this? He's a CSI! He works with the police! He knows most of the laws by heart! But he's just been going along with it, not thinking about it, feeling like it was just out of a comic book, just like Eddie said, instead of thinking about the real world applications of what he was doing -

His phone goes off.

"Sorry," he says to Eddie, who waves a permissive hand, and answers. "Barry Allen."

"Barry, we need you to come down to STAR Labs right now," Wells says urgently. "Something's come up on Cisco's screens. He's not in right now - I sent him out for something, but I'll go myself to find him and bring him back - we need your help!"

"I'll be there ASAP," Barry says, alarmed by the unprecedented concern in Wells' voice. He hangs up and looks at Eddie.

"Guess lunch would've been canceled anyway," Eddie says with a laugh. "I'll tell the boys you took a half-day off, yeah?"

"You're the best," Barry tells him, simultaneously wishing it wasn't the case so that he could be properly jealous and also happy for Iris' sake that it is true. "Thanks, man."

"No problem."

The second Eddie is out the door, Barry is in the Flash suit and running towards STAR Labs.

He's got a crisis of conscience, yes, but his friends might be in danger; his crisis of conscience can wait.

Right now, they need him to be the Flash.

He runs.

And as he runs, someone else suddenly runs, too, runs at his speed, runs faster than his speed, runs right next to him, turns his face to look at Barry, his face, a face that Barry knows from his nightmares -

The Man in Yellow.

The man who killed Barry's mother.

He's back.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Should’ve Known Better (ao3) - Chapter 7: “In Which Everyone Else Objects”

Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart/Iris West

A/N: For @coldwestallenweek - Day 7: Space

Summary: Seven sexy roleplay ideas that Barry, Len, and Iris came up with together…that were not good ideas.

Really, their lives would be so much easier if they weren’t all such sticklers for accuracy.

——————————————————————————————-

"Pretty cool, ain't it?" Mick asks proudly.

"This. Is. Awesome!" Iris exclaims. "I love it!"

"So cool!" Barry chimes in, beaming.

Len just nudges Mick approvingly with his shoulder. "Good one, partner."

Mick smirks. "Second I found out what it did, I came here," he says. "I knew you guys would appreciate it properly. Unlike the Legends."

"Oh?" Len drawls, his eyes narrowing. He's still a touch sore about the Legends stealing away his partner for a few months out of every year for missions, but he's agreed to accept it since it makes Mick happy. But if they've started not appreciating him properly again...

"Nah, nothing bad, don't start plotting revenge just yet. They just wanted me to give it back."

"I thought they'd loosened up about the whole stealing thing," Iris says.

"Me, too," Mick says with a shrug. "Dunno why they were so anxious about it - I checked the timeline, and no one was using it. As long as I get it back sometime that decade, no timeline impact. So it should be fine!"

"I can't believe they wanted you to give it back before we even had a chance to give it a test run," Barry says, reaching out and running his hand along the side of the bright green spaceship that Mick had produced seemingly out of nowhere. "Can we fly higher?"

"I can take you to the Moon if you like," Mick says proudly. "The thing's intergalactic."

"Do you gotta wear the new outfit to use it?" Len asks, gesturing at Mick. "Bright green ain't really anybody's color. Maybe Iris’. But definitely not you."

"No, I agree. Ain't my color at all. But I think the outfit’s part-and-parcel with the whole thing," Mick says, looking down at himself ruefully as he guides his friends through the air in the glowing-green replica of his old spacetime-ship that is emanating out of the green ring he'd found. He hadn't yet come up with anything it couldn't project if he just thought about it hard enough and really wanted it to work, and if there was one thing Mick Rory didn't lack, it was strength of will. "Whatever, though. Worth it for the cool stuff."

"No kidding," Iris gushes. "We can finally do a really good alien abduction scene with this!"

"Or a proper spaceship one without the Legends butting in at awkward moments," Len agrees. “The way they invariably do even when they’re supposed to be out on mission.”

"Where'd this ring even come from?" Barry wants to know. "And how many things can you make from it?"

"Basically anything, s'long as it's green. Least that's what the space cop that tried to nick me said, what little I heard, anyway. I wasn’t really listening."

"Awesome!"

Suddenly, there's a sharp rapping - knocking, really - on the outside of the spaceship.

"Not the Legends," Iris says. "Please don't be the Legends. We haven't even gotten to the sex yet!"

"Uh, Mick?" Ray's voice comes through the hull. He sounds apologetic.

All four of them sigh.

"Could you maybe land the ship? We - that is, Sara - well, also - okay, it's a bit complicated. Someone needs to talk to you. Urgently."

"Do we have to?" Iris mutters under her breath.

"We should," Barry says reluctantly.

"What do you say, Mick?" Len asks. "Stop or run?"

"He'll be intolerable if I run," Mick grumbles. "I'll land. Hopefully it'll be quick and we can get back to whatever roleplay you've decide on."

When they land, the green plane disappearing into Mick's ring once more, Sara is waiting, her arms crossed and her expression pinched, and there's someone in the same bright green outfit that Mick's currently in standing next to her.

"Seriously?" Sara demands. "Seriously?!"

“Hypocrite,” Iris coughs into her hand.

"Listen, you can't escape your destiny by running away from it," the guy says earnestly to Mick. "Trust me, I've tried. It's a lot to take in, I know -"

"He didn't run away," Sara says, glaring at the lot of them. "He ran towards."

"...sorry, what?"

"I don't actually want your ring," Mick explains. "I just wanna use it to let my friends act out their weird sexy roleplay thing. I'll put it back after."

"...sexy roleplay?" the guy in green says, his voice strangled. "You accepted the Green Lantern ring to use it in sexy roleplays?!"

"Not me," Mick corrects. "My friends. I'm ace, personally. But otherwise, yeah."

"Seriously, man?"

"That's what I said," Sara says with a sigh.

"I said I'll give it back after," Mick says. "I promise, you'll barely notice it was missing. Can you lot buzz off now?"

“You’re definitely killing the buzz,” Len agrees.

Mick rolls his eyes.

"It's not - you can't just - the Ring is a solemn duty - you can't use it as some sort of sex toy!"

"Seems like a pretty good sex toy to me," Iris says, "what with the 'take any shape you imagine and will'."

"...well, yes, but -!"

"Anyway, what's the problem with having us borrow it?"

"Having a Green Lantern ring makes you a part of the Green Lantern Corps!" the guy yelps. "You have to help protect the universe, not - not fuck around with it! Literally!"

"I keep telling you, I don't do any of the fucking," Mick says irritably. “I just make sure things work out, that’s all.”

“Everyone in the Corps is laughing at me right now,” the guy groans. “We’re giving humans such a bad reputation.”

"Hold up," Len says. "Mick, I thought you said space cop here was trying to nick you for stealing the ring thing."

"Yeah?"

"Sounds to me more like he's trying to recruit you."

Mick looks horrified. "Become a pig? Fuck no!" He starts trying to tug the ring off his finger. "Being a Legend's bad enough as is!"

"You can't just reject the ring now!" the guy exclaims. "If you do it in this time period instead of its original era, it'll go to the next person with the strongest willpower no matter where they are -"

Mick gets the ring off - his green costume disappearing and being replaced by his usual outfit - and flings it aside.

It hovers in mid-air, glowing softly green.

It drifts hopefully over towards Len.

"Not a chance in hell," Len tells it. "The fact that I'm about 90% of Mick's self-restraint doesn't actually make us one person. Nice try."

The ring dips in a manner that suggests a sigh, then abruptly zooms very quickly up into the air -

"Great. Now we'll never find it," the guy in green moans.

- and then straight back down to slip itself onto Iris' finger.

"Uh," Iris says. "I'm really flattered and all, but that ring finger's kinda already being used by my wedding ring..."

"You know," Barry says dreamily, "the skin-tight black-and-green uniform you've got on now looks really good on you."

"And you know I'm always up for some space-cop-and-robbers," Len agrees, his eyes equally avid.

"You've got to be kidding me," the guy says, putting his head into his hands.

"Oh, believe it," Sara says. "They're always like that."

"The universe is doomed."