Several people demanded a sequel to My Barry, which I've been planning for some time, and how fitting I got to finish it today, Christmas. :-) Thank you all who commented on that other story, and please let me know if you enjoy this new installment.

Len stared with as unimpressed an expression as he could muster, while still wearing a smug grin, at the fidgeting young hero on the other side of the glass.

He hadn't expected another visit from Barry so soon. Kid was incorrigible with his 'there's good in you' routine. Len almost wished he'd had the time to orchestrate an escape the day before, even the morning of this visit just to stick it to the kid for making sure he ended up here in the first place.

Len should have been selling the kid's secrets to the highest bidder. Should have made good on his threats, but then…he'd failed in his side of the bargain—he'd killed. He had no qualms about that, no regrets, other than the pesky nightmares he couldn't' shake, but a deal was a deal.

So what did the kid want now? To save Len's soul? Barry didn't seem as confident this time though. Leg bouncing. Fingers tapping. Eyes darting away from Len and then…focusing on him with something—huh. Different in his eyes that Len couldn't quite place.

"How are you?" Barry asked.

Len arched an eyebrow at him. Opened his mouth—

"Don't say 'peachy'," Barry grinned. "I mean really."

"Why the third degree, Barry? I can handle myself in here fine. Feeling guilty?"

"Should I be? You'll be out of here in no time anyway, right? You should be thanking me for the vacation. Free food. Private room."

"Such luxuries."

"You're welcome." That grin, even while smug as if to challenge Len's expression, was too sweet, too endearing with the dimples and the way Barry couldn't sit still. His eyes flicked away again, right index finger tapping a steady rhythm Len couldn't hear through the glass. "Look, I've been thinking maybe I could…as The Flash…say it was self-defense, get you out of here legally."

"It wasn't self-defense."

"No, I know, but—"

"What's your angle here, kid?"

Hazel eyes met his. Len took in a sharp, unexpected breath as slowly as he could—this look was new from Barry. Len couldn't quite…unravel it. "No angle. I mean…I think you could be so much more than another inmate in Iron Heights, Snart. You really could. But if you'd rather stay in here a while longer, put up with me coming to visit to try and convince you of that, well…I can do this every week."

"Until what? You get me to admit you were right. That I'm a wayward soul in need of saving. That a righteous life would be so much more meaningful, even if the pay is shit."

Barry just grinned around the receiver. "Something like that."

Len scanned Barry for an ulterior motive. But the kid had absolutely no talent for guile. He was all in, heart on his sleeve, bare expression on his face, blunt. There was something selfish there, mixed with the selfless acts, but no misdirection. Nerves. Timidness and apprehension maybe. But for what? Not doubting he could reach Len; stubborn kid was diehard certain about that. So what was Len missing?

"Can't hurt to have a little company," Barry said. "I hear your sister doesn't come to visit."

"We have a strict policy against that."

"So why not talk to me?"

Len should shut this down now. Kid was trying to make friends. Setting himself up for failure. Len didn't need to be anybody's pity project. But straight out telling him not to bother didn't seem to work. Len flicked his eyes down Barry's body. "S'pose you are a better view than my fellow inmates."

Barry laughed and cast his eyes down at the table again, his tapping finger finally slowing. Stopping. Was that a blush coloring his perfect, poreless cheeks? "Maybe you're a better view than most for me these days too," he said, eyes raising hesitantly. Hopefully.

Huh. "What did you want to talk about, Barry?"

XXXXX

Barry didn't go as The Flash to the warden or anyone else in power to say Len murdering his father in cold blood was self-defense, but he did visit—like clockwork, every week.

They didn't talk about Flash business, much as Len was curious about the activity of these new metas on the news. Barry asked about Len's childhood mostly. If Len was dismissive or flat out said he didn't want to talk about something, Barry left it. Talked about himself instead.

Eventually, Len knew more about Barry Allen than his research into the kid ever gave him. He should store the information away for later use. He should work out his own angles, if Barry wasn't planning any of his own. Instead, Len found himself discussing some of the things about himself he'd dismissed in the beginning—little by little, more and more.

It was dangerous, he knew, but that expression on the kid. The blush to his cheeks, and glances to the side; the loss of challenge in his smile leaving only pure interest; Len didn't know how to sidestep it.

So one week when Barry didn't show up, Len found himself pacing, or fidgeting when he sat like a mirror image of the kid. Fingers tapping, body never sitting still. And then he saw the news.

Barry wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead. The footage showed The Flash beaten but not a corpse. No, Barry was alive and healing somewhere. The way the kid healed faster than most, he'd be back next week for sure.

When again he didn't show, Len didn't doubt his belief that Barry lived, but he wondered how broken that other speedster had left him.

Finally, another week gone, after seeing new footage of The Flash defeating that giant gorilla Len had almost pegged for a myth until he saw it firsthand, Barry showed up at the appointed time.

"You're late."

"Been busy." His eyes held a shimmer of grief, of shadow resurfaced and lingering, but true to the kid's nature, he fought against it, managed a smile, and said, "How have you been, Snart?"

"Bored. Thinking of breaking out."

"We could always get you out legally."

"And spoil these fun chats in the meantime? Why don't you continue your useless plight to convince me against it?"

So Barry did. He was getting better with his arguments. Oh, Len wasn't convinced, but he didn't mind watching Barry try.

The routine continued. Len wondered if he should break out after all. He'd worked out a few winning scenarios, but found himself stalling, always changing his mind once one option seemed the most viable. This new dance with Barry was risky and getting worse. It was almost a relief when Mardon showed up.

Len couldn't exactly say 'no thank you' without raising suspicion, and he did want out. He didn't bargain on Mardon being there for Jesse too. Risky. Foolish. Mardon was psychotic, but Jesse was worse. Len went with them long enough to find out what Mardon wanted, what he was planning, and had to mask his true reaction when the meta human admitted he wanted to kill The Flash.

Len got as much of the plan out of them as he could while still only agreeing to consider the offer to help them, likely to pass, but thanks anyway. Then he made his way to Joe West's home. He kept tabs on the man first, saw him leave the precinct, turned away from home. Then saw Barry exit with his adopted sister, heading to Jitters. They'd go home after, Len was certain, so he beat them there.

A collection of festive mugs sat on the counter to amuse him while he waited amidst a setup of premade cocoa mix in mason jars, none of which had mini marshmallows included. Len checked the cabinets. Nothing. Pity, but tis the season, after all, so he took what was offered. Good cocoa at least.

He drank. Waited. Readied himself when headlights appeared in the driveway.

At best, Barry would rush him and demand why he was there. Probably disappointed he'd allowed the breakout, wondering if he'd had a hand in planning it. At worst, Len would be in for a straight up fight. He had precautions against that.

In came Miss West and Barry, chatting, not noticing him at first.

"Ho, ho, ho."

Barry blushed when he saw him, dumbfounded, cheeks twitching for want of a smile. Huh.

Miss West wasn't as polite. Len could be forgiving of that, just this once, as it seemed they'd been dealing with something rather monumental for their little family, so he focused on Barry, gave his warning, and made to leave. And of course, as Len predicted, Barry tried to get him to stay and help directly with Mardon and Jesse. Len, likewise, prepared his 'no thanks' speech only to find the words weren't in him.

"I'll think about it," he said instead.

He did think about it. All day. All night. Then Barry showed up to face the pair, Len on a rooftop within viewing distance. Barry saw him. Len lifted his gun. But Barry shook his head. He was willing to take a beating at risk of some poor, innocent families getting blown up, which—okay, not surprising coming from Barry. Len would never have agreed to this plan if he'd gone in on it with Mardon and Jesse, but he wouldn't usually uproot his life to lend Flash a hand. Now here he was, trying to think of how he could step in.

He ended up waiting, unsure on the time he had, which he hated, and when it was finally down to those poor families or Barry, Len readied his shot.

Only for an explosion to distract him—and Mardon and Jesse. Then Barry was up, handling them like a pro, no help required. Len stood down, and disappeared into the night before the cops showed up.

Barry had no way to contact him. But Len had a way. He had several ways. He knew Barry's routine. Knew all of his haunts. Knew when S.T.A.R. Labs would be deserted of everyone BUT Barry, and one day found his feet heading that direction.

It was the limbo week between Christmas and New Year's, when most people had time off. Barry had only taken a couple days, remaining on call if any important cases came up. Caitlin and Cisco were elsewhere. No one save Barry appeared to be in the labs, so it was rather shocking for Len to walk into the main area and see the kid in mid-lip-lock with some stranger.

Len stopped cold, a chill climbing up his spine that he had no right to feel. Barry didn't owe him anything. He was surprised to see the kid with a man, but the occasional flirtation had made Len wonder if Barry's inclinations skirted the line between men and women. He just hadn't expected Barry to be exploring that with someone else.

He stared a moment at the back of this stranger's head, closely shaven hair, dark trench coat not unlike Len's own. He could see most of Barry's face, much as his mouth was suctioned to the other man's, and the kid looked so…happy in the embrace.

It churned Len's stomach, and he readied himself to turn on his heel.

Then the kiss broke. "Oh!" Barry said, hand flying to his mouth when he saw Len. The stranger turned around and…

Len blinked. The stranger was—he had to be seeing things. The stranger was him.

"Okay, guys, I think I'm ready to—" came Barry's voice, NOT coming from Barry's mouth, and Len seriously needed to check whether or not he was dreaming, when a second Barry entered the room and cut off from whatever he had been about to say. "Len!" he exclaimed, hazel eyes going wide.

Len stared at Barry, at the other Barry, who seemed…different now that Len looked at him more closely, maybe older? And then at himself, this other him, and knew then that he wasn't seeing an illusion or someone who just seemed to look like him. The man was a mirror image just as the other Barry was, only—was that a detective's badge hanging from his neck?

Barry—the real Barry, or at least the Barry who hadn't been kissing some imposter Len—approached slowly with his hands raised. "I can explain."

And he did. Barry could travel through time apparently. Barry could travel through dimensions too. The multi-verse theory wasn't a theory but proven fact, and this other Barry and Len were versions of them from another world. Another Flash and Citizen Cold—Len couldn't help cringing at the name—who worked as partners to help their city, and had been helping Barry deal with a few challenges lately.

After Barry's close encounter with the speedster Zoom, leaving him paralyzed for a short time, he'd contacted his friends from Earth-3, as he called it, and asked for more direct help understanding and closing the rifts that existed around Central. When they first met, they had explained the rifts to Barry, helped him learn how to traverse them, but had left it at that, since it wasn't wise to alter another world's timeline, any more than it was wise to change the past when you knew the future. Now, after Zoom had proven to be a much darker threat, they'd helped him close all but one portal to and from the other worlds.

At one point Barry pulled Len aside and admitted, "I've kind of become addicted to hearing about their lives. Some things are completely different. Some things identical. And some of it is so amazing, Snart, you'd never—"

"Like you and me being married?"

Barry glanced away from him, a flush coloring his cheeks a faint pink.

Len heard all about how Detective Snart, Citizen Cold, was different from him. He and Lisa were raised by their grandfather. Lewis was the one who died when they were kids. From there, Len's upbringing had been entirely different, surrounded by good cops, good influences, and a caring parental figure who would never hurt Len or Lisa.

Earth-3 Len was softer, warmer, kinder. He moved differently, because he carried himself differently, without the same weight beating down on his shoulders. He smiled more readily, more honest. He touched Barry—his Barry—openly and without hesitation, when Len himself couldn't touch anyone without internally recoiling. He'd learned to despise touch. He'd learned to despise many things that this other Len knew nothing about.

It didn't take long hearing the stories, the differences and similarities, to understand why Barry was enamored. They had it easier in some ways. The other Barry wasn't very different from the Barry that Len knew, a little older and wiser, but still Barry Allen through and through. Barry could easily see himself in that older version. It made it easy for him to want what that other Barry had—a hero, Citizen Cold, someone Len could never be.

Barry hadn't started coming to Iron Heights looking for Len. He was looking for something else.

"Citizen Cold?" Len sneered. "Not the same ring to it, I'm afraid."

"I'd take up the Captain part myself, but wouldn't seem right til I earn the rank," Detective Snart smiled amiably. No accompanying sneer, or tease, just earnestness.

His Barry beamed at him and nudged him in the shoulder. "I think I'd like that one day. Captain Cold, when you become Captain Snart."

"Before Joe? Not gonna happen, babe."

Babe. Len wanted to unhook his cold gun from inside his trench coat and ice them both. That they could have it so easy. That circumstance worked out for them, for this other Len and his Barry, but not here in the world Len had to suffer through.

The pair soon had to leave. They'd helped Barry as much as they felt was safe, but actually taking down Zoom for good was up to him. Barry promised to come visit their world some time, thanked them for all they had done for him, and turned to Len as if…waiting for him to say something to them too.

Len just gave Detective Snart and his Barry a subtle incline of his head in farewell. They disappeared in a swirl of blue and white light through the portal in the S.T.A.R. Labs basement.

Len didn't remember why he'd even come to the labs to see Barry. It didn't seem to matter now. He turned from the kid and made to head for the elevators back up and away from this place.

He barely made it a step before he felt a firm but gentle hand on his wrist.

"Hey…you hungry? I'm starved. We could—"

Len wrenched his wrist free, feeling something awful and longing twist in his gut. The kid was fooling himself. "I'm not him," Len said, glaring at the confused expression Barry wore.

The startled puppy look fell to something crushed and pitying all at once. "I know," Barry said. "That's why I'm asking you."

Len faltered, standing there, only a few feet from Barry, alone in the basement with some swirling portal behind them that somehow represented everything Len believed he could never have. He had to think of something to say, a scathing comeback, dissention, something, but he couldn't—

"I don't need you to be a hero."

Len swallowed. "You want me to be."

Barry's eyes—they were different from that other Barry. Maybe because this Barry had been through worse, seen more heartache, and lived without the simple pleasures and joys that oblivious couple likely took for granted. "I just wish you wouldn't lie to me. There is good in you, Len. You could be…" He fought for words.

"What? Better?"

"More," Barry said, taking a slow step closer to him that didn't ask for anything but that Len not back away. "You could be more than this. If you tried. I hate seeing you doubt that. Maybe no one's ever believe in you before, but I do. And not because of him. I don't know him. I know you."

He smiled, so sweetly, so heartbrokenly pleading, Len felt like the biggest fool. Because even if Barry had been inspired by that other them, by Citizen Cold and his Barry, it was Len he'd gotten to know the many weeks in Iron Heights. And he hadn't run away yet, even if it was his best trick.

Len wanted to take a step back, out of Barry's space, avoid the closeness, the invitation to touch him again, because he couldn't—he wasn't used to—he didn't know how to—shit.

"Just dinner?" he said, eyeing the kid, daring him to ask for more than that.

Barry smiled wider, most of the sadness banished from his expression. "What kinda guy do you take me for, Snart? You'll have to wait until at least a third dinner before you get lucky."

The little brat. "Way you eat, should be able to accomplish that on date one."

Barry laughed, his hand reaching up to grip Len's arm and then…falling away before he made contact—and damn, Len never thought he'd wish that Barry had gone through with it. He supposed he'd have to earn his way back to the easy comfort Barry was so quick to offer. Len just needed to believe he could accept it.

Barry gestured toward the elevator, his smile never wavering. "Guess we'll see."

THE END