Originally written for the ColdFlash Week 2016 prompt 'saving each other'. Warning for mention of injuries.

Following The Flash wasn't supposed to become a past time for Len. It had started out as research. Strategy. Barry Allen was Len's only real roadblock to getting anything done in Central City, and now that Len had decided to extend his stay, he needed to know how to defeat him. Len had already learned two of Barry's biggest weaknesses – his compassion for others and his secret identity. But those were no longer leverage enough. Len had to really wedge himself underneath Barry's skin like a splinter, become a permanent presence, but not as a simple adversary. He had to evolve into something that would spark Barry's interest.

A pet project.

Len had to constantly blur the line between good and evil, be ambiguous enough in Barry's eyes that no matter what he did, Barry would see him as redeemable.

That way, Barry would always give him another chance.

But following The Flash around had become fun. When Barry wasn't in the midst of a battle, performing superhuman stunts and flinging witty one-liners, he was actually a bit of a klutz. In the time since Len had started chasing him down, he'd watched Barry smack into more flagpoles, trip over more air, and destroy more asphalt than Len thought humanly possible.

If Barry wasn't a superhero, Central City would be shaking him down for millions in repair costs.

Len kind of regretted not recording all of Barry's foul ups and uploading them to YouTube. He could sell his videos to the news stations and make some serious bank. And with the amount of conspiracy theorists trolling the Internet, searching for clues to The Flash's secret identity, maybe he could start a subscription only service and live off the residuals. Then he could hang up his cold gun for good.

If anything, it could be a way to transition Lisa out of this life of crime he'd unintentionally initiated her into. She could be the face in front of the camera, talking before the clips, and Len could work behind the scenes, providing the content.

The only downside was that if anyone found out that the recordings came from Len, they might stop seeing him as a credible threat and start seeing him as a fanboy. He'd have to quit crime altogether, possibly join Team Flash, and fight for truth, justice, and the American way.

Len chuckled at the absurdity. Like that could ever happen. Still, in another life, it might be something to think about.

For being a superhero with a secret identity, who performed secret experimentation in a secret lab, The Flash wasn't that difficult to find. It didn't matter that Len hadn't finished high school, which Dr. Snow kindly kept reminding the members of their team. It didn't take a lot of intelligence to use a screwdriver and a soldering iron. Or to buy a police scanner and a drone. S.T.A.R. Labs had their fingerprints on tech all over the city. Even with the cheap, electronic devices readily available to the average thirteen-year-old who'd swiped their parents' credit card, tracking S.T.A.R. Labs wasn't rocket science.

The trick was not to let them know that Len was watching. The second they knew, they'd find a way to knock him out, and then he'd have to start over from scratch. But by then, they might up their game. Len wasn't afraid of a challenge. He was always up for improving his skill set. But there was no reason to make things harder than necessary.

But lately, Len had gone from casual observer to participant, and it happened quite by accident. The first time, it was to save his own skin. He was made by a guy during a robbery The Flash was thwarting. Whoever he was, he thought Len was an undercover cop. Len was fine to leave him be and let The Flash handle him, take him to jail with all the other rejects, but the man called Len out. So Len took him out of the picture. Len realized later that by doing so, he'd eliminated a threat for The Flash.

And it felt good.

Little by little, Len started interfering more – took out a henchman here, tripped up a metahuman there, sometimes with his gun, sometimes with his bare hands. He liked to think that he may have saved Barry's neck a couple of times. Len had no intention of jumping ship, but he did find himself embracing his inner chaotic neutral. It didn't seem fair that Barry was out on the streets, risking his neck on his own, with his whole team watching from the safety of S.T.A.R. Labs. Len would think that at least Cisco would be willing to get his hands dirty. Cisco had the balls. He'd defended Barry against Len with that super powered cold gun (which Len had discovered later through spy drone surveillance was actually a super powered vacuum cleaner), but Len hadn't seen Cisco hit the bricks since.

Maybe Len was giving Ramon too much credit. Maybe he was just a one and done kind of guy.

And yeah, Barry had the CCPD on his side, but it seemed like they'd slack off a bit once they heard that The Flash was headed for the scene.

It seemed to Len that the police in this town needed to get off their asses and earn a buck.

Well, if they weren't, then Len would.

Not because he felt sorry for the kid, but because he liked The Flash owing him one. He'd keep racking up the points and then turn them in for something big later on. And as for watching Barry's back, well, all those brownie points that Len had been accruing wouldn't be worth anything to him if Barry was dead.

Yeah. He'd keep telling himself that. Considering the fact that he wasn't keeping any evidence of the good deeds he'd done, the likelihood that he'd be able to convince Barry that he'd been giving him a hand was next to nil.

Tonight, Len was stalking Mr. Incredible while he rescued textile workers from a structure fire. The warehouse in flames was located only a few miles outside of town, but Len didn't know why fire crews hadn't shown up yet. The fire had to be visible for miles around. Deep in his gut, Len had a bad feeling that this might be some sort of inside job, but he didn't have the connections to check on that hunch. For now, he'd have to wait things out and make sure that Golden Boy didn't get himself into too much trouble.

If Barry did go up in flames, Len had his gun on him. He could just cool Barry off.

Sweep after sweep, The Flash raced in and out, pulling singed workers to safety two at a time and depositing them God knew where. Couldn't be Police Plaza, because then they'd be here to lend a hand, wouldn't they?

Just as Barry zipped back in from his last delivery, a gold Buick Century pulled up and parked not too far from Len. From the make and model of their vehicle – widely available and highly forgettable – Len knew that whoever was driving had to have something to do with this. Len slouched down to watch as two men dressed in black got out. They weren't firemen, and they definitely weren't cops, but Len had a feeling that they were here to lend a hand.

They stood in front of their car and watched the building burn. Len watched, too, wondering where Barry was. Did he get everyone out? Was he doing one final sweep? Did he notice the men pull up and decide to lay low, wait to see what they'd do?

Was he stuck inside, in some sort of trouble?

"Seems to be flaming up pretty nicely," the first man said with a self-satisfied chuckle.

"Yeah," his cohort agreed. "But it's gonna take a while to burn completely, ain't it?"

"Yup." The first man reached into his jacket and pulled a black package out of his pocket. "So why don't we help it along?" He tossed the brick-shaped package overhand into the flames. Both men raced back and ducked behind their car. Len hit the deck as far down to the floor as he could.

He wasn't sure what was about to happen, but when you're on a sinking ship, you follow the rats.

Before Len could even consider Barry in all this, the building blew, walls crumbling, windows shattering, fire spitting out so hot Len could feel it through the sturdy metal doors of his own boosted Buick Skylark with the windows rolled up, parked some 50 feet away. Len didn't know if there had been anyone left in that building, but the only person Len was even remotely worried about had been shot out a fourth floor window. With his head down, Len heard Barry hit the ground, an Oompf! of pain the last sound he made, but Len couldn't look up right away to check on him. A second, more powerful explosion followed the first, this time shattering the windows of his car and spraying his bowed back with glass.

"Jesus Christ!" one of the men crowed. He yelled something else that Len couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears. But when something close to words started to penetrate his brain again, Len made out the words "… think it's The Flash."

"It is The Flash," Len heard, the words accompanied by the crunching of glass and the kicking of rubble as the men walked the distance from their car to Barry's body. "Do you think he's dead?"

"I don't know. That was some killer fall he took."

"Well, he ain't moving."

Len held his breath. He'd seen Barry take a hit before. Hell, Len had shot him before. And each time, Barry recovered, gotten to his feet and fought back. But from the sounds of it, Barry wasn't this time. Len didn't know if it was a part of some elaborate plan on Barry's part, or because he couldn't. But his friends would know. They monitor his every move. Where the hell was the S.T.A.R. Labs vans? Where was Caitlin and Cisco and Joe to save the day?

"Hey! Wanna make this a double payday?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Let's check under the mask. Find out who this Flash character really is. That's gotta be worth somethin' to someone, right?"

That was the point when Len knew Barry needed him. Not Caitlin or Cisco, not the police or the fire department. Him. Leonard Snart.

Besides, the only criminal in Central City who knew who The Flash really was was Leonard Snart, and Len refused to share that franchise.

Len climbed off the floor and got out of his car just as the two men started crouching down. The first man, the man who had thrown what Len guessed was some kind of explosive into the burning building, was fingering the edge of Barry's mask when Len called out, "Hey!" By the time they turned around, Len had his gun powered up and raised. "No peeking."

It wasn't one of his best quips. His powers of snark weren't as strong as Barry's. But at least the men didn't get the chance to clap back.

Len froze them both where they stood.

Len didn't run over to Barry right away. He watched, waiting for him to spring up off the ground and zoom away like he usually did, but this time, Barry wasn't moving. With the two men frozen stiff beside him, Len couldn't even tell if Barry was breathing.

"Shit!" Len hurried across the debris-strewn asphalt. He still didn't know why emergency vehicles were nowhere to be seen, but Len had to assume they would arrive any time. He had to move quick before anyone actually got it into their thick skulls to show up. "Barry!" Len hissed as he got closer. "Barry, are you alright? Barry! Why aren't you getting up, Barry?"

Len heard more crunching of glass and gravel before he saw Barry's head move. "Snart?"

"Yeah, it's me," Len replied, trying not to sound relieved. "That's quite some fall you took there. How ya feelin'?"

Barry looked up at Len with an unfocused, squinty stare. "Peachy."

Len laughed at having his own sarcastic remark thrown back at him. "Seriously. What's the deal? I thought you were indestructible."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

"You think anything's broken?" Len asked, eager to get a move on.

"No. I … I don't think so." Barry tried to sit up, but after raising his torso about an inch off the ground, he gave up and settled back down. "Did you do this?"

"Sadly no. Not this time. But I'm here to help you."

Barry's total confusion was almost more painful to look at than the black and blues blossoming across his face. "Why?"

"Don't know. I think it has something to do with that face you make when you realize that you owe me." Barry's face scrunches, and Len points. "There it is. That's the face. Now, come on, Flash. Let's get you outta here. You need medical attention. You look pretty banged up."

"No," Barry said, giving Len no assistance whatsoever when the man tried to help him to his feet. Though, to be fair, he'd just been thrown from a burning building and landed on his spine. "Just leave me here."

"Now why would you want me to do that?"

"It hurts less."

"No dice. I don't know where the cops are, but I'm here. I might as well get you out of harm's way." Len took off his parka and wrapped Barry up in it, not just to keep him warm, but to shield him from prying eyes, both good and bad.

"D-don't you n-need your c-coat?" Barry groaned, suddenly shivering as Len carried him away from the fire, his adrenaline levels dropping, his body shutting down to help him recover faster. "It's the m-middle of winter. It h-has to b-be fr-freezing out here."

"Meh," Len said. "The cold never bothered me anyway."

"No … No!" Barry groaned. "You c-can't rescue m-me if you're g-going to quote F-frozen."

Len wasn't actually quoting Frozen, but now that he knew it bugged Barry, he did what he felt any true chaotic neutral would do.

"Let it go, Barry." Len smirked, carrying Barry to his waiting car. "Just let it go."