Barry Allen, AKA The Flash, loved the Fall. The air always smelled so clean and crisp, while the trees, the few they had in Central City, transformed. Their leaves turning beautiful shades of yellow, orange, and an oddly pleasant pinkish red. A time for change. Also, it wasn't too hot like August got, or too cold like January could be, but just right. He could wear sweaters without, well sweating, yet there was no need to break out the winter coat, hat and gloves. The Fall was his favorite season and Halloween was his favorite part- only a few weeks away.

When he was a kid it was more so because it was the one day of the year he didn't have to be Barry Allen. The geeky kid whose dad murdered his mom. The weirdo with only one friend in the whole world, his foster sister at that: Iris. He could forget, if only for a little, that he was the favorite target of every bully at Central City Intermediate. Barry could be anyone or anything he wanted. For one day, he could be a super hero: one that could have saved his mom. Perhaps, a cop: one that worked tirelessly to prove his dad's innocents. The possibilities were endless.

There was some deep-seated psychology in the whole thing, but it remained his favorite even after all these years. After all, being Barry Allen and more so The Flash could be- overwhelming.

This year he wanted to be just a normal everyday average joe- just some guy. He was sure that wouldn't go over too well with Iris, though. Her enthusiasm for Halloween exceeded his own. She often had multiple costume ideas for him to pick from, which he had to pick from, by the way. Not that he minded all that much, because it made her smile. Barry loved when Iris smiled. It often made him feel as though all was right with the world, and making Iris happy was a constant lifelong goal of his, though the costume party she'd mention only after the planning stage was complete was something he wasn't wholly sure about. If only because she was most likely hoping to draw him out of his recent funk. Barry grimaced.

Today happened to be one of those perfect Fall days. The sun was shining, yet he wasn't roasting, the air was cool yet not biting. It was the kind of day that seemed to make everyone you met a little more pleasant. All in all a perfect day in Barry Allen's book. Yet, even with the perfect day and his favorite holiday just around the corner Barry couldn't shake the unease he'd awoken with. This was more than what Iris called his funk, well, extended funk now, he supposed- it made his palms sweat.

Barry was no Cisco, he didn't get "vibes" or anything, but this morning when he awoke there was an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't recall what he'd dreamt about, so he didn't think it had anything to do with that, but it was something. Furthermore, that something was not good. As he walked to Jitter's on this perfect Fall day he was too preoccupied with trying to ignore that "something not good" to enjoy it.

Before he knew it, Barry found himself in front of Jitter's and spied a smiling Iris who offered him an excited wave through the window. Pushing his preoccupation aside he smiled back offering his own wave before taking a deep breath and pulling open the door. Jitter's was always crowded on Sunday mornings, but somehow it suddenly seemed even more so. Almost too crowded. Barry pushed that away too and made his way over to Iris.

"I was almost afraid you weren't going to show," Iris told him trying to hide her concern pushing his coffee towards him. "I mean you're always late, but you didn't answer my texts either."

"Sorry," he looked down at his phone and frowned noting he was quite late as well as four missed messages. "I've been a little off this morning, I guess."

"Oh, just this morning?" Iris tried to tease, but her obvious worry caused the attempt to fall flat.

"I'm sorry, Iris," he reiterated, because he really was.

Also, he really, really, didn't want to talk about the other thing.

Iris had always been there for him. His whole life. He loved her for it, but this funk was sort of putting a wedge between them. Iris, of course, just wanted to help. She loved him too. Barry, however, just wanted her to leave it alone. Not because there was nothing wrong. After a while even he had to accept that his funk was a thing, but because of what Iris thought was its cause-

Leonard Snart AKA Captain Cold, and Barry just couldn't accept that.

"It's okay," Iris replied with a slightly too brilliant smile, reading some cue in his voice or facial expression he was sure no one else would have picked up. "Now that you're here we can talk Halloween party! Do you think it would be okay if we used STAR Labs?"

"The Lab?" Barry's brow furrowed as he sipped his now room temperature coffee, which was sort of gross.

"Well, yea," Iris said after sipping her own, the face she made told him her coffee was probably just as startlingly gross as his. "My apartment doesn't have the room. I guess we could do it at dad's, but then he couldn't bow out early like he usually does… why is it a bad idea?"

"No," Barry told her grimacing after another sip, though the normal subject of a Halloween party helped slightly ease the discomfort in his belly, so he latched onto it. "Of course, we can use the Labs. It'll be great, you have full reign."

Iris's response was a brilliant excited smile until she took another sip, "Ugh, next time I'll wait to order the coffee."

"I'll go get fresh cups," Barry offered chuckling at her cute grimace feeling almost- normal maybe? "Then we can talk Halloween party, Kay?"

Iris nodded gratefully seemingly relieved with more than just fresh coffee, though looked a bit sheepish as she handed over her cup. Barry stood to make his way to the counter smiling, assuring her he'd be right back. Yet, on the inside he was frowning. Normally, Iris wouldn't have hesitated to tell him her coffee was awful because he was late, or even wait for him to begin drinking it. She was worried Barry would pull away again, so she was walking on egg shells, and he felt awful about it.

As he got in the rather long line he made a vow to be a better friend and brother. That vow pertained to all his friends and family. He was worrying them, hell, even he was beginning to worry. He hadn't even been like this after the singularity. Iris had been the only one to call him on his shit, but all she succeeded in doing was making him pull away. Probably because she'd managed to hit the nail on the head.

The others had theories concerning things that would cause anyone to act as Barry had been. The breach between worlds. Feeling responsible for said breach. The increased number of dangerous Metas in Central, some of whom had attempted to and or succeeded in murdering their unsuspecting doppelgangers, again, because of said breach. The arrival of a dickish Dr. Wells. Zoom... All of which made perfect sense, and were absolutely a concern of Barry's, but this funk was wholly caused by something different. Something he didn't even fully understand. Something he refused to even utter aloud.

Intellectually he knew that he'd done nothing wrong. In fact, he done the right thing by all accounts: still, his chest ached.

Ridiculous, he knew, and when it'd begun he pulled away knowing the others would reassure him he'd done the right thing. Barry didn't want reassurances. He wanted to not feel like there was a vice clamped around his heart every time he thought of-him- locked up, all alone, and for what amounted to simply making sure his sister would always be safe from the very real Boogey Man that terrorized their entire childhood.

Murder was unequivocally illegal and immoral. Yet that evening, Barry had finally understood the concept of justifiable homicide. He always staunchly believed there was a better way. Anyway really, but Lewis would have been released eventually had he been taken into custody, and the danger he posed to both Snart siblings and likely Barry himself would have increased tenfold.

Would Barry himself have done any less for Iris if Joe, his foster father, had been like Lewis? Leaving scars such as the ones that marred Lisa's otherwise flawless flesh as well as the ones he could only see reflected in her rough exterior? Furthermore, what kind of scars did- he- carry? Was his flesh similarly marred to accompany the psychological scarring Barry had noticed when they'd first met? If Barry ran his fingertips across the flesh he'd long imagined to be soft to the touch and thought perfect, would he find evidence of just how horrible- his- nightmarish reality had been?

Deep down Barry knew these were the questions that kept him up at night and the real reason for his extended funk regardless of his refusal to talk about it.

Just as the sting in his eyes, one he'd become all too familiar with as of late surfaced Barry was saved by the vibration of his phone. Quickly and gratefully, he answered it without looking. "Hello?"

"Barry, where are you?" Joe, AKA Detective West, asked sounding uncharacteristically distressed.

"Jitters with Iris," Barry replied feeling suddenly distressed himself. "Everything okay?"

"Barry, Leonard Snart escaped," Barry immediately knew the cause for his unease, maybe- for some inexplicable reason he felt some of distress evaporate, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, before it slammed back down upon his shoulders.

"Okay," was his only reply, because he had no clue what to say or how to process his rather odd reaction and it was suddenly difficult to breath.

"Okay?" Joe's distress was now mixed with anger. "That's all you have to say is okay?"

"What else do you want me to say?" Barry asked genuinely curious as to what Joe thought was an appropriate reaction to his news.

He stepped out of line and farther from the crowd to keep what he was sure was going to be a strangely difficult conversation more private.

"I dunno," Joe admitted, "but the fact that one of Central City's most notorious, not to mention an extremely dangerous criminal just broke out of the most secure prison wing in the country, where you put him, should probably garner some sort of reaction other than okay."

"It was only a matter of time, Joe," Barry told him honestly realizing just how inevitable it really was. "The Meta-Wing was only going to delay him."

"So you're saying you expected this?" Joe asked surprise now mixing with all the rest. "Snart's not even a meta."

"Well, when he sets his mind to something there's usually no stopping him," Barry replied shrugging a bit helplessly though Joe couldn't see him, "he did promise he'd be seeing me."

"And you're not at all worried, because you should be, Bear," Joe's tone told Barry he thought he wasn't taking this seriously enough. "I don't care if you think Snart's good somewhere deep down inside. He's a criminal and he's dangerous, and now you're telling me he's already promised to come after you."

"Joe, he's a lot of things, he's done a lot of things. Bad things, I know. There's no denying it, but he won't hurt me." Barry's words sounded just as ridiculous to his own ears as they did to Joe's judging by his foster father's scoff, but Barry still believed them with every fiber of his being.

Barry also didn't believe his parting words were really a threat- just a promise of sorts.

"Don't tell me the two of you have an understanding?" Joe retorted sarcastically. "Another deal, right? 'Cause the last one worked out so well?"

"Joe…" Barry started though he was unsure how to say exactly why he believed it.

How in the hell did he explain he, Barry Allen, The Flash, shared some sort of special connection with- him- Captain Cold, Super Villain extraordinaire? The answer was simple; he didn't.

"Just trust me."

"You, I trust, though I do sometimes question your judgement, particularly when it comes to Snart, who I absolutely do not trust by the way," Joe said a little angrily before his voice softened. "Listen Barry, you only see the good in people, even when there isn't really any good to see, and I admire you for that. I really do, but I think this is a clear-cut case of over identification."

Barry didn't respond right away. He didn't know how. Not for the first time he felt a twinge of doubt. He had told him he didn't need or want saving, more than once, in fact, but Barry was sure it was more the case of him not believing he could be saved. Barry shoved that twinge of doubt away, unable to allow himself to believe that was the case. Refusing to allow himself to give up on- him- but wasn't that Joe's point?

"When you look at Snart you see what you could have become, and that hits close to home," it did, just as close as Joe's words, but it somehow felt like it was more than that. "But there's gotta be some kind of three strike rule, Barry. Snart kidnapped 2 of your friends, tortured Cisco's brother, double crossed you. Yes, he saved your life, but only so you would owe him later, not to mention he killed someone in the process. Then when you rush off to rescue him he nearly kills you himself. Then you rush off to help save his sister and he lets his dad shoot you. Finally, to top it all off, you do manage to save his sister and he still murders his own father in front of you. That alone should have negated the deal you had. That's way more than three strikes Barry. Snart should have been out a long time ago."

It all sounded so awful when it was put like that, and he couldn't only see, but understand Joe's point of view, still, Barry had his own explanations for what was behind such seemingly callus acts. Not that he was going to share them with Joe, or anyone else, because they would definitely claim they were rationalizations not explanations. Barry didn't need or want to hear that, not when he still felt so guilty.

"Bar, I know you believe you and Snart have some kind of deal or something. That there's good in him- that he wouldn't hurt you and it scares the ever loving hell out of me. I was going to call in another forensic guy, but…" Joe's tone and the way trailed off made Barry's stomach sink as he finished Joe's, you left me no choice, in his head, but the conviction in his voice when he continued made Barry's heart sink. "I think he would, and I think he's planning to do more than just hurt you, Barry. Leonard Snart broke out of prison to kill The Flash."

"What?" Barry blurted as he struggled to process what and why Joe would say that.

"Well, aside from all the newspaper clippings, Snart left a message on the wall of his cell," Joe replied in a way Barry knew he'd been hoping they wouldn't have to go there, but Barry left him no choice.

Joe would do anything to protect his kids, even when it wasn't easy.

"It appears to be written in blood."

"What?" Barry's knees felt a little weak as possibilities raced through his mind. "What's it say?"

"Live Fast, Die Young... Run Scarlet Run."

Actions