A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry it took a while to post another installment of this. It's not over. There are many other chapters already close to being finished, so if you enjoy this series, and I hope you do, you can look forward to more in the near future :) Warning for angst, anxiety, prescription drugs, Lewis Snart being a sadist, Len protecting his sister, and Barry being the only one who can help. Mention of past abuse, nausea and vomiting.
"You were really on the ball tonight, kid," Lewis says, clapping his son on the shoulder. Len grins and nods, pretending to be pleased, but if he could get away with it, he'd spit in the ridiculous motherfucker's face. His stupid old man, acting all buddy-buddy like this is normal, as if busting into houses together was something other fathers and sons did. It's probably the chemicals gettin' to him, Len thinks. They did manage to pull off the near impossible though – cleaned out a house at the end of a busy cul-de-sac in the middle of the afternoon. Len's father had gotten savvy to a new scam – breaking in to houses tented for fumigation. Len thinks his dad got the idea off of some cable TV show. Well, wherever he got it from, with a few spare hands, some newly acquired Terminix uniforms, and a couple of industrial strength gas masks, they loaded two vans in under an hour, with next door neighbors home and everything, and got away clean. "Got through that security system in record time. Ha…I'm actually proud of you." Lewis's tommy gun laugh is incredulous, as if of all the improbable things in the world, he didn't think that being proud of his son was possible.
"Thanks, Dad." Len does his best to sound sincere, but his father's praise means nothing to him. There was a time when Len wanted his father to be proud of him, but even back then, when Len was young and impressionable and could probably be tricked into believing his father cared about him, Len's desire for approval was a matter of self-preservation. Len thought that if he could shave time off picking a lock, bypassing a security system, or shutting down an alarm, then things would get better at home. But they didn't, because Len was never good enough. Even if he did better than men five times his age, who had been in the business decades longer, it still wasn't up to muster for Lewis Snart.
So right now, Len doesn't give a shit what his father thinks. He's biding his time, doing what he's told until he can figure out a way to get Lisa away from this psycho, and out of his life for good. Len has been taking steps, making preparations bit by bit. He has bags packed for both of them, stowed away in his gym locker at school, along with a small stockpile of non-perishable food, enough to get them by on the run for a couple of days. He has a lead on a guy who can get them a getaway car and possibly act as driver…once he gets his ass out of juvie. He saves every spare cent he can, from recycling mostly and from odd jobs because his father doesn't give them much of anything, but he also finds a way to swipe a little on every take. His father is a highly suspicious man, but if a few dimes go missing here and there, he's more likely to blame the loss on a sticky fingered associate than on Len.
Lewis doesn't care a thing for Len but what he can get out of him, doesn't respect him as far as he can throw him, but he trusts him, and even then only because he trusts his own methods. In Lewis's life he's learned that fear is a great motivator. As far as he's concerned, he has put the fear of God into his children. They'll do whatever he says, with a smile on their faces if he tells them to.
Lewis shoves in front of his son, opens the front door of their house, and walks inside. Len follows him in, locking up behind. He assumes that his old man will stop by the fridge for a six-pack of Coors and then trundle off to bed to celebrate his success.
His, not Len's, because in Lewis's mind, Len wouldn't be half as good at his job without his father's training.
After his dad tucks himself in for the night, Len can go up to his own room and text Barry. He hasn't seen his boyfriend in hours, not since Len's dad showed up unexpectedly during lunch and made Len miss his last few classes of the day. Len misses Barry, as weak sauce as that may sound to some people. Len didn't see himself turning into the kind of guy who'd miss his boyfriend after only an afternoon away, but there he is, grinding the palms of his hands into meatloaf with his nails, waiting for his dad to hit the hay so he has the chance to hear all about Barry's lame day – how he aced his chem test, what annoying thing Iris did, what embarrassing thing Joe said...if any knuckleheads tried to mess with him. Barry won't own up at first, but Len will get it out of him. And then he'll start a hit list. He won't beat anybody up. Aside from not needing that kind of heat, he'd promised Barry he wouldn't. Len will find some other way to fuck with them – pour molasses in their backpack, trip them down the hall, put a dead fish in their locker. Len wasn't originally fond of these methods to begin with. They required him to be more creative than usual. But he has to admit, there's a certain exhilarating level of satisfaction to seeing someone who has the nerve to mess with his Barry reach into their book bag and pull out a math text book covered in sticky brown glop.
Before dating Barry, Len would have gone for a run after a job and then called it a night. But now that Len has him, he's excited about something in his life. He actually looks forward to waking up in the morning, even if the bulk of his day remains the same – same boring school, same obnoxious teammates…same asshole father.
Barry gives Len something besides running away from this frickin' maniac's house and never looking back to look forward to…even if it comes with the knowledge that someday, someday soon, he might be leaving Barry behind, too. But Len had decided from the day he told Barry Allen that he could have him that he wouldn't think about that. Of all the plans Len has made in his life, things he's worked out to the last detail, he's decided to let fate handle his relationship with Barry.
And he has to say, so far, so good.
Lewis saunters toward the kitchen, yawning and stretching as if he can't wait to get to bed, but when he reaches the foot of the staircase, he stops. One hand resting on the banister, he looks upstairs as if he's contemplating between grabbing his beer or just heading straight to bed. Len is personally hoping he chooses the beer, since drunk Lewis Snart tends to sleep deeper…and later.
Come on, come on, come on, Len chants in his head, wondering what the hell his old man is waiting for. Just go to bed already. Get your fucking beer and go to bed. Drink your ass to sleep so I can talk to Barry and get a few hours' peace.
"Why don't you go get your sister?" Lewis suggests suddenly, his eyes fixed on the dark upper level.
Stunned by that request, Len gawks at his father. His eyes open a little too wide, he pauses a little too long. It's subtle, but his father is a master at detecting subtle.
In that single second, Len has blown it.
"Why?" Len recovers, but unfortunately not fast enough.
"What? I need a reason to see my daughter?" Lewis asks, wearing a smile that Len can't stand. It's two parts Cheshire, three parts jackal, and five parts pure conniving asshole. "I could always go get her myself if it's too much of a problem for you."
Len feels his insides unravel. He has less than half a second to put all of his pieces back into place. Impassive face. Unreadable tone. A mask of total indifference. Come up with a plan, do it quickly. No need to figure out his dad's machinations; Len knows they can't be good. Lisa. Where is Lisa? Is she even home? She'd mentioned stopping by her friend Molly's house after she got out of school, seeing as Len and his dad would be out for the evening. He didn't see Lisa's shoes when they walked in, sitting by the front door where she kicks them off, or her jacket on the hook. She's probably not even there. Relax, Len. Stop giving yourself away. "No..." Walk to the staircase. Walk, don't run… "That's alright." Please be at Molly's, Lisa. Please be at Molly's… "I'll go get her. It's not a problem."
When his hand hits the railing, he wants to bolt up the stairs, grab his sister, and find somewhere to hide, but he slows his pace, one foot after the other, trying to appear unfazed. But in his head, he's begging - Please be at Molly's. Please be at Molly's. Please be at Molly's. Len knows his dad's eyes are on him. And he knows his dad knows he's scared. Whatever Lewis has planned for the evening, it starts here. Watching Len's internal freak-out is part of his fun.
Len reaches the top of the stairs, walks five steps to the right, and knocks on his sister's door, loudly so his father will know he's following orders. He uses their special knock – two short raps, three long ones, a pause, and then one short – so that Lisa will know before the door opens that there's trouble.
"Lees? Lees, are you in there?" He knocks one more time. "Dad wants to talk to you." Silence is his answer, and his speeding heart winds down, relieved when she doesn't come to the door. She's not there. She's over at Molly's, and for now, she's safe.
Len can't say the same about himself, but that doesn't matter. Whatever comes his way, he can handle it. He can handle his dad…mostly.
Lewis Snart has become strangely sadistic in his old age.
"Come on, Len," Lewis calls from downstairs. "I don't have all night."
"I don't think she's here," Len announces, hoping that by saying it out loud he can cement it, make it true. But it is true. It has to be, or she'd have said something by now. He presses his ear to the door. He doesn't hear that Top 40 crap she plays, doesn't hear her talking on the phone. He's sure he doesn't see a light on under the door. He bends over slightly to double-check.
Nope. No light.
"Well, open the door and check then."
His father sounds insistent.
Len swallows hard.
"Alright. Give me a sec." He opens the door, inch by inch, scanning the floor, convinced that Lisa is in the clear, that he won't see…
…her knee-high bedazzled black Converse, the pair Len swiped her for Christmas last year, the pair that Len knows for a fact she was wearing today, leaning against her backpack next to her desk.
Shit!
Len opens the door further, praying that he's wrong, that she was wearing a different pair of shoes, or maybe that she stopped off at home first to dump her stuff and change before heading out again, but no. He's not going to get that lucky. He finds his sister lying in bed, asleep in the dark, her earbuds in her ears, listening to her mp3 player.
Fuck!
Change of plans. Len has to think fast. He has to come up with a way to get her out of here before his father comes upstairs to give Len a helping hand.
Len closes the door behind him and turns on the light. He yanks the earbuds out of Lisa's ears and gives her a shake.
"Lisa!" he says in a low voice so as not to attract too much attention from downstairs. "Lisa, you have to get up. You have to get up now."
Len's urgent tone doesn't quite get through to groggy Lisa, who opens her eyes slowly, blinking in confusion.
"Hey, Len," she says at almost half-speed. "You guys are back early."
"Yeah, we are." Len grabs his sister's jacket and a different pair of sneakers – a pair that don't lace up to her knees and with a sole that she can run in. "I thought you were going to Molly's."
"Well," Lisa groans, sitting upright and watching her brother ransack her room with more interest than concern, "my period came early, and I've got some monster cramps, so I thought I'd take advantage of an empty house and suffer at home."
"TMI, Lees," Len grumbles in disgust regardless of his anxiety-fueled episode. "Don't chicks bond over stuff like that? You guys could be baking brownies, braiding each other's hair, talking about tampon preferences..."
"Uh, no. Maybe other chicks, but not me. And when have you ever cared about TMI, Captain ODP?" Lisa giggles, but when Len doesn't immediately clap back, she begins to realize that something is seriously not right. "Len…what's wrong? What's going on?"
"Listen, I need you to go…now." Len kneels at his sister's feet and starts putting on her sneakers. "I need you to get to Barry's house and stay there, no matter what. I'll meet you there later." He throws that last part in as an afterthought when, in reality, he has no idea what's going to happen to him after his sister leaves. At the very least, his dad will knock him over the head with a beer bottle if he finds out Lisa was there and Len helped her escape.
"Why do you want me to go…?"
"Tell them…grrr…" he cuts in. His fingers trip over one of her laces, accidentally wrapping it around his knuckle. He throws a knot in it, constructs a lopsided bow, and moves on to the next shoelace. "I don't know. Tell them that…oh, you'll think of something! I just need you to get there and stay there!"
"W-why?" she stutters, becoming anxious that her cool-as-a-cucumber older brother is getting her dressed and ready to run out the door…or more than likely the window. "What's up?"
"I…I don't know. Everything went down easy, we got what we went in for, in and out slick, but while we were robbin' the place…I don't know." He helps her into her jacket as certain events from their job this afternoon, out-of-place events, start gathering in his mind. "He started grabbing all sorts of random shit out of the medicine cabinet, like prescription meds, you know? He didn't take the bottles, just the pills. It didn't dawn on me to wonder why. I thought he was plannin' on junking up later when he was alone. But he asked me to come get you, and I don't like the sound of it. So I need you to go."
"Oh…" Lisa says, her voice shrinking, her insides turning to jelly. "O-okay. Okay."
Len normally counts off seconds in his head when he's in a rush – a habit he picked up while breaking into houses since most security systems give you a short window of time for punching in the disarm code. It's somewhere between ten seconds and thirty depending on the alarm. Len always shoots for seven – better to err on the safe side. He wanted to have his sister out in twenty at the most, but in his haste to get Lisa rolling, he'd stopped counting. Sixty-five seconds had passed between Len getting her up and then getting her dressed. With the door closed, they missed the creak of the stairs as Lewis climbed up, missed the footsteps on the landing, didn't hear the doorknob turn. When the door swings open, Lisa yelps. Len doesn't have to see his father standing behind him to know he's there. He lurches up and shoots over a foot, trying not to appear unhinged, but also careful not to put too much distance between himself and a half-dressed Lisa.
Lisa rises from the bed, not entirely aware of how she looks or what she's supposed to say. Len didn't get that far. She has no idea what she was going to claim she was doing if they got caught.
Len is so good at this, they rarely get caught.
"Hey, Lisa." Lewis doesn't address his son standing stock still, plans switching in his head like the pages of a flip book as he tries to figure out what to do next. He entertains the idea of tackling the man to the floor and making a run for it, but that didn't work out all too well the first time he tried it.
That's how he got his left wrist broken the third time.
"H-hey, Dad," Lisa says. "I…I didn't know you guys got back."
Lisa's eyes dart over to Len, looking for some sign that her response was okay, but his expression doesn't change. His eyes, locked on to his father's face, don't lose their focus.
"I sent your brother up here to get you…" Lewis smirks, tossing a side-eye glance at his disobedient son, "but it looks like he's been dillydallying. What you been up to, Lisa?" He gives his daughter's appearance a once over. "It looks like you might be…going out?"
It's not really a question. Lewis knows what his children were doing; his naïve son, always playing his sister's savior. Lewis had betted on it. That's why he took his sweet time getting up there. He wanted to give them the impression that they had a chance of making it.
"N-no," Lisa says quickly, forgetting for a second that she's wearing her sneakers, and her jacket thrown over one arm. But the amused smile growing on her dad's face brings it all back. "I-I mean, yes. Yes, I was gonna, you know, take a walk around the block. Get some fresh air. I'm not feelin' too well. I thought it would help." She tacks that part on in a desperate attempt to get some kind of sympathy from her dad. Maybe if he knows she's sick, he'll change his mind about whatever it is he has planned.
"Oh, well, that makes sense."
Lisa looks to Len for help. Len only briefly glances at her. He doesn't want to take his eyes off his dad, not for one second. His dad shifts his attention to his own filthy, steel-toed shoes, and for a moment, Len doesn't know whether or not he bought Lisa's excuse. But whether he did or not, Lewis Snart rarely ever diverts from a plan. When his father's smile doesn't change, Len realizes no. He didn't buy it. Not with that Cheshire/jackal/asshole grin still on his face he didn't.
Lewis slips a hand into his pants pocket and fishes around. Len holds his breath. Lisa's knees wobble, nearly sending her dropping back to her mattress. Both siblings stare unblinking at their father as Lewis pulls his closed fist out of his pocket. He takes a step forward. Lisa wants to take a step back, but with her bed behind her, there's nowhere for her to go. Lewis extends his hand, making a motion for her to do the same.
"Take these."
Lisa holds out her hand to catch the pills falling out of her father's fist. She doesn't know what they are, but she has a feeling that if a one of them lands on the floor, she'll pay for losing it.
"W-why?" she asks, staring at the pills with wary eyes. They're all different sizes and shapes, most of them white, a few of them with numbers and letters etched into them. "Wh-what do I need these for?"
"Well, since your brother did such an exceptional job today" - He aims a sarcastically satisfied smile Len's way - "we got home earlier than planned. And I'm bored. So take those."
So, that bullshit from earlier about being proud of Len was all an act. What's going on now, whatever happens to Lisa after she takes those pills, he's putting it on Len. Lisa has to take them because Len did a good job. Because Len toed the line and got them home early.
Len bites his teeth together to keep from calling his father a bastard to his face. He's surprised that he's surprised.
"B-but…but why?" Lisa asks, frightened and confused, her hand holding the pills starting to shake.
Lewis shrugs. "I wanna see what they do."
Lisa shakes her head no. She wouldn't dare defy her father under normal circumstances, but it's uncontrollable. "B-but, I don't…I don't want to…"
It takes only a split second for Lewis's smile to disappear. His blue eyes become hard, his jaw clamping tight around grating teeth. In two strides, he traps her against her bed frame, legs sandwiched between it and her father's body, wedged painfully. She turns her head and whimpers, her father's face sickeningly close.
"I said…take 'em!" he growls, hot breath and angry teeth scraping against her cheek.
"Jesus Christ, old man!" Len leaps forward and grabs the pills out of his sister's hand, eleven in all, his father's eyes tracking his every move. Len stuffs the pills in his mouth and swallows them dry. He holds his hand up, open palm empty. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue so his father can see they're gone. "There. Alright? I took 'em. They're gone." Lisa stares at her brother, face flushed in fear of her father now pale. "No big deal," Len says for her benefit. "They're probably just aspirin or vitamins…or birth control pills."
Lewis stares blankly at his son, bordering on furious. Then…his lips twitch, and he snickers, the thought that his teenage son downed a handful of estrogen-laden contraceptives apparently more amusing than his anger at Len scotching his fun.
"Those fucking things are full of girl hormones," Lewis chuckles, backing away from Lisa and the bed. "You're gonna get moody…and weepy..." He guffaws loudly, getting the words out in between. "Don't you go gettin' mad at me if you start growing breasts, boy." Lewis throws his head back and laughs.
"Yeah." Len sneers at his father as he turns to leave the room. "Good one, Dad."
Lewis shakes his head, mumbling something about Len turning into a young woman and borrowing his sister's clothes, as he heads for the door. "Oh, and if I hear you toss your cookies, I'm fishin' those pills out of the toilet…and she's takin' them. End of discussion." Lewis roars harder, but at which image - Len developing boobs or Lisa eating out of the toilet - Len doesn't venture to guess. He's just glad the man is gone, leaving them in peace.
Even if Len's stomach is parkouring inside his abdomen and his head feels too tight for his skull.
Len feels Lisa grab his hand and squeeze tight.
"Len?" Lisa hisses. "Len, what do we do?"
Len doesn't know what to tell her. He can't think straight, and when did her room get so damn warm? He feels woozy, but he's sure that's his adrenaline levels crashing. He wants to sit down, but if he sits down, he'll go to sleep. But if he puts his head down for a few hours, he argues with himself, then he should be fine. But he can't risk going to sleep. Not only does he need to keep an eye out for Lisa, if any one of those were sleeping pills, he'll need to stay awake. If he vomits in his sleep, he's done for. And she's done for. But he can't let her know. He needs to be strong. If there was ever a time, now is it. "I guess we wait it out."
"What if those pills make you sick, Lenny? I mean, like, really really sick? You know he's not gonna get you any help."
"I don't know," Len says, faking calm. He'd considered that, but hearing Lisa's panicked voice say it out loud makes his head spin. Or the heat in the room is making his head spin. He doesn't know which. "But I guess we're gonna find out."
Lisa lies in bed, fully clothed, pretending to be asleep. She had abandoned her earbuds and mp3 player, and stares at her locked door, keeping guard while she waits for morning to come. Len had lumbered off to his room to deal with the potential side effects of the drugs he took. She'd thought that maybe he'd try to figure out a way of throwing them up without their father finding out. She's been hearing footsteps wandering up and down the hall outside her door – heavy, stumbling footsteps that could be her brother trying to work the drugs through his system.
But they had stopped once in front of her room and tried the doorknob before shuffling away, and she realized they were more likely her dad checking in on her brother, to see what those pills did to him…and then on her.
She'd heard the TV on in the living room, then the front door open and close. The house had gone completely quiet about an hour or so after that. No more footsteps, not a sound from her dad…and not a peep from Len.
If something had happened to him, she wouldn't know till morning.
She was too scared to leave her room and check on him on the off chance she'd run into her dad making his rounds…
…or simply lingering in the hallway, waiting for her to come out the way a cat waits outside a hole in the wall to catch a mouse.
Shortly after midnight, the scratch-scratch-scratching of fingernails on Lisa's door fills her with dread. She stuffs the edge of her comforter in her mouth and bites down to keep from making a sound. If her dad thinks she's asleep, he'll usually get bored knocking and wander off. Usually. On the nights he doesn't, she has Len to look after her, but she hasn't heard from Len for a while now. What if those pills were knock-out drugs and he's down for the night? What if her father had planned it that way, knowing that Len would jump on the grenade for her with those pills? Then her father could barge into her room and do anything he wanted to her. When she was younger, he'd just hit her. But she's older, more developed, and those unsettling sideways looks he gives her every now and then, the ones she knows are inappropriate for a father to give his daughter…
…the thought of what those looks mean petrifies her more than taking those pills did.
If she'd taken the pills, she'd be asleep when her father tries to violate her.
She hears another scratch-scratch. Her body trembles violently, her teeth chattering in her skull, like dice rolling around her head. Her body seizes up, everything from her scalp to her feet awash with ice cold terror. She can't move this way, can't defend herself this way. All she can see herself doing is crying, and she can't do that.
If she cries, things could get worse.
"L-Lisa?" A reedy voice, no louder than the breeze outside her window upsetting the leaves, whispers through the door, followed by a sniff…and then a whimper. "L-Lisa? A-are you…a-awake?"
She sits up, straining to keep the bed springs from creaking, the possibility of her father lurking close by with his ears peeled still a viable fear. The voice she hears (or thinks she hears; it's so quiet, she can hardly tell that it is a voice), is barely more than a gravelly mewl of pain that she identifies as belonging to her brother. She's never heard him this sick in her life, even with broken bones and a concussion.
As far as Lisa has always been concerned, Len is indestructible.
But with his sharp gasps and staccato moans, he sounds like a ghost haunting the hall. She almost doesn't want to open the door and see for herself what happened to him, but she makes herself stand up. Whatever he's going through, he did this for her. He does everything for her, sacrifices everything for her, takes the brunt of the beatings and the bruises for her. She's not going to leave him out in the hallway, vulnerable, to suffer alone.
"I'm coming, Len," she whisper-yells, hurrying to the door to unlock it. "Just hold on. I'm coming…" When she opens her door, she expects to stand eye to eye with her brother, but she's not. He's hunched over, leaning fully against the door frame, the wood lending him strength since he has none. His head is sweating, but he's shivering as if he's freezing. He can't seem to lift his head, but he manages to raise his eyes. They're bloodshot and black, his sea blue irises nowhere to be seen in the faint light of the hallway.
"Len! Oh my God! Len!" She tries to help her brother to his feet, but she can't. He's too heavy for her to lift, and as far as his own energy is concerned, it looks as if he used the last of it to get to her door. "How can I help you? What do you want me to do, Lenny?"
"We've gotta… we've gotta go," he mutters, each word a hindrance, his tongue scraping against them like sand stuck in thick layers to the roof of his mouth, "go get help…"
"But…where, Len? If I take you to the hospital, Dad's gonna…"
Len shakes his head. "No. No hos…no hospitals."
"Then…who?" Lisa begs, on the verge of tears. "Who's gonna help us?"
Len finally tilts his whole head up to look at her, and when he does, Lisa wishes he hadn't. His skin is white, every vein standing out blue against it; his lips, trying their hardest to form words, a stark, nausea green. He can't seem to stop moving, stop shaking, stop twitching, but he can't even stand on his own two feet. Seeing him this way zaps her of her courage. How can she do this? How can she help him? She can't. She's not like Len. She needs to find someone who is, or someone who's close, but where is she going to find someone like that?
Using an ounce of determination, since he has no strength left, he takes her hand. "B-Barry. I need…I need…Barry…Allen…"
