A/N: ColdFlash Week is happening on Tumblr this week. coldflashweek DOT tumblr DOT com. Definitely check it out. This is my entry for today.

Day 1: Time Travel and Day 7: Michael Snart.

Chapter 2 will be out on Friday for Michael Snart day. This combines two ideas, one being dedicated to granvas on Tumblr and AO3 as the 'Len becomes a meta AU' idea, and the other for coldflashtrash with Michael Snart coming back in time to get his parents together.


Barry could admit, almost two years since he'd been struck by lightning, and several months since he'd been betrayed by Captain Cold at Ferris Air, that he enjoyed having a nemesis. Especially since his dedicated supervillain, unlike any that might claim to belong to The Arrow, had set principles he followed thanks to his encounters with The Flash, and a certain flare for dramatics that Barry enjoyed more than he'd ever say out loud to the leader of The Rogues.

Joe had never been on board with their arrangement, but the rest of Team Flash had slowly come around just as Barry had, and they appreciated the truce—their tentative bargain that Cold would keep Barry's identity secret, and avoid involving innocents or allowing for anyone to get killed during his heists, and in turn Barry would only stop Cold for show.

If he defeated Cold, the Rogue would inexplicably manage to get away before being taken into custody, though a few times he'd stick around, let himself be truly and fully caught only to break out of custody later. And if Cold won, well, he was careful with just how much of Barry he iced with his cold gun, trading banter and taunts more than actual blows.

If Barry was being completely honest, it was like an occasional vacation day in his otherwise hectic life as a superhero. Too often he had real threats to deal with: people who wanted to destroy the city, kidnap or murder someone, actually cause trouble that could get a lot of people hurt. Even the other Rogues weren't as easygoing as facing Cold. They followed their leader's rules, of course, but they weren't as nice to Barry with mere glancing blows.

But Cold…Barry always looked forward to facing him, staring him down with a grin, drawing the fights out, meeting every pun Cold threw at him with one of his own—when he could; the man was notorious for winning at that game—and just simply having fun. They had an understanding, a rhythm, a powerful respect for each other that made Ferris Air feel like a distant memory.

Barry had had a positive influence on Leonard Snart, who in turn had had a positive influence on other criminals in Central City, many of them metas that would be too dangerous in the regular population of Iron Heights. And Barry was a better hero because of Cold. What was wrong with enjoying their game from time to time?

Joe was the one who'd warned him that as much as the arrangement between him and Cold might work out most of the time, and overall kept the city safer than if they didn't have their pact, it also made him sloppy. Barry didn't take Cold seriously anymore when they fought, because he expected Cold to go easy on him, to play and tease and let up if things got too intense.

"What happens the day he decides to take advantage of you again, Barry?"

Barry dismissed Joe's concerns because he couldn't imagine Cold ever having reason to do that. He would always turn a situation to his advantage when he could, that was true, but there was no future Barry could imagine where losing the truce they had would be beneficial to Cold. If anything, sometimes Barry wondered if the future held something even stranger for them, and maybe one day they wouldn't have to play this game. He'd asked for Cold's help before and knew he probably would again, and the fact that that didn't seem bizarre at all had to mean something. Cold enjoyed the chase more than any of the things he stole.

So no, Barry didn't expect an ambush or betrayal to be the downfall of their common dance. He certainly never expected that his sloppiness with Cold, or Cold's ease and comfort with him, would trigger a change from something far more terrifying than Cold turning on him.

"That the best you got, Scarlet? I figured you'd be quicker on your toes. Piper's already long gone with the haul while you're wasting time with me," Cold said, icing the ground in front of Barry, but that was an old trick by now, and Barry knew how to dash around it and keep his feet on ground with traction.

He spun, darted behind Cold, and dashed left when the Rogue sensed his presence and turned back around with a spray from the cold gun following him. "Are you getting near-sighted in your old age, Cold, because so far you've failed to land a single hit," Barry called back.

Cold scowled from behind his goggles within the hooded parka. "Am I keeping you past your curfew, kid? Wouldn't want Detective West to wait up worrying. You still live at home, don't you?" He blasted a lamp post that froze solid, creaked and teetered, and eventually toppled, forcing Barry to zig-zag out of its path.

Age was never a good subject for their banter; it always ended the same, with Cold calling him 'kid' several more times instead of 'Flash' or 'Scarlet'. Barry much preferred the latter two.

They were in the warehouse district where Captain Cold and Pied Piper had interfered with an entirely different heist Barry had been trying to stop. A local mafia group had stolen an armored car, and just as they'd turned onto what appeared to be an abandoned street with Barry ready to flash in and save the day, the Rogues had leapt in to intercept, while Barry kept busy with the middle men. By the time he'd beaten down all of the mafia goons, Piper was driving off with the truck, while Cold hung back to keep Barry from following.

There was no one around save a few unconscious men almost a full block away now since they'd moved to an empty parking lot during the fight. It was late, dark, a handful of street lights illuminating the area in this part of town. They had the whole parking lot and several city blocks all to themselves. It was everything Barry would have asked for after a busy work week.

"Hurry it up, Barry, you're letting Piper get away!" Cisco called into his ear.

Oops. Barry had forgotten to actually care about the armored car once Cold was on the scene, but he did have responsibilities and couldn't play tag all night. He just had to get in a good hit, and he could speed off after Piper. "Working on it," he spoke into the coms and turned to face Cold again.

"Sorry to cut this short, Cold," he said, standing squared off against the Rogue, "but you're slowing me down."

"Oh, so frigid, Flash," Cold scoffed, "and here I thought we had a rapport going."

Barry grinned. "Maybe next time I'll put you on ice."

"Try me," Cold said with a pleased laugh, gun aimed and ready.

Barry couldn't resist going for one more hit, one more pass. He had time to catch up to Piper.

So he flashed forward and let everything slow. There was Cold directly ahead of him, decked out in his usual gear, the navy parka with the fur-lined hood up, the black sweater, pants, gloves, and boots, the goggles, the taunting smirk on his face. Barry felt a thrill racing toward Cold that could not be reproduced with any other villain—his counterpart, his nemesis.

Barry moved fast enough to watch the slow progression of Cold's hand on the trigger, readying to fire at him with a pleased smirk, and thought that maybe he'd snatch the gun right out of Cold's hands, pause halfway across the lot with it to toss it to the pavement, before firing off one last witty one-liner and heading out. He wondered if Cold would feign a scowl or maintain his grin after being disarmed.

But in the split second before Barry reached the other man, extending his hands to take the gun, and shifting just slightly out of the spray of cold as it started to fire, a blue-gloved hand reached the gun first. Barry was too close to Cold to see where the hand came from, just noticed it stretch out and knock the gun away, moving not at the speed that Cold was going, but in time with Barry.

Barry flashed out of the speed force on the other side of Cold, confused by what he'd just seen. He hadn't managed to grab the gun, because it had been knocked from Cold's hands, clattering to the ground as he turned back to look at his nemesis. Cold seemed just as surprised, and whirled around to snarl at Barry, assuming he'd been the one to tug the gun from his fingers.

Barry couldn't find any words, his brain still catching up, wondering if he'd imagined that blue hand and had been the one to knock Cold's gun away himself without realizing it. He glanced at the gun, which rested on the ground harmlessly enough…but was sparking with aftereffects of yellow lightning, the shimmering blue cylinder that glowed within the inner workings of the gun appearing cracked.

Cold took advantage of Barry's stunned staring and dove for it.

"Cold, wait!"

But he wasn't fast enough, just standing there calling out rather than racing forward like he should have. Cold landed on the ground beside the gun, snatched it up into his hands, not seeming to notice its disrepair, and rolled onto his back to fire. He aimed for Barry's feet, not truly angry, not meaning to hurt him, still playing by their rules as he always did, but the spray of cold never fired—not outward.

Cold's scream was awful, blood curdling like Barry had never heard before, as the ice that should have shot forward backfired instead, encasing his whole arm up to his elbow, and slowly, then faster and faster, started to climb higher.

Barry had seconds to react. If he didn't do something, Cold would be consumed by the ice.

The déjà vu as he raced toward Cold was nauseating, everything slowing again like it had moments before when he'd only meant to disarm Cold, only this time, he might very well remove Cold of his arm in the process of ripping the malfunctioning gun away. But what else could he do?

Every inch closer to Cold—who was sprawled out on the ground, in pain, in serious trouble all because Barry hadn't been able to resist going one more round with his nemesis—choked Barry with shame. He had to reach him. He had to save him.

And then it happened again.

Just before Barry reached Cold, he saw blue, but not only a blue-clad hand, a whole person, moving between them and leaving lightning in his wake so much like Barry's own. He didn't touch Cold or the gun this time, didn't try to get in Barry's way, just left the trail for Barry to speed into as he raced forward.

The colliding speed forces so near to Captain Cold and around the gun, started to react in ways Barry had never experienced, not any time he'd been close to Reverse Flash. It must be something about the gun, or maybe this other speedster, but the sparks of lightning increased, shimmered, glowed as Barry neared them even with the man in blue now gone.

Barry wondered in rapid succession if it was just an afterimage, or maybe a sign that he would go back in time at some point to prevent all this and he was seeing another version of himself, but then why was the man blue? At least he knew it couldn't be Eobard—he dearly hoped not—back from the singularity.

But Barry didn't have time to question further, focusing instead on Cold, on how he had to get to him, had to remove him of the cold gun before the ice climbed any higher, already up past his shoulder. His hood was thrown back from his head, his eyes wide and terrified behind the goggles as he stared at what was happening to him.

Barry was so close, almost there, just needed to reach one tiny bit further, ignoring the way the other speedster's lightning reacted like a chemical fire to his own, filling his nose with ozone and a clench in his gut, until his hand touched the gun and everything erupted.

Barry was thrown back by the explosion, knocked yards away, not realizing how far until he gasped and rolled and found himself back by the frozen and toppled lamp post. Sparks of lightning filled the air all around him, but they were fizzling, subsiding in the aftermath.

"Cold!" Barry cried before he'd even zipped to his feet, uncaring to any damage he might have sustained, too panicked to even wonder if he'd been injured. He flashed across the pavement back toward where he'd left Cold on the ground, where the gun had gone off, where the colliding speed forces mixed with the damage of the gun had exploded.

"Barry, what's going on?!" Caitlin cried over the coms. "Your heart rate…"

"What the hell was that noise?!" Cisco shouted.

But Barry tuned them both out. He stopped several feet from what remained of Cold. There was just a block of ice. The explosion had sped up the process, coated Cold completely, looking more solid and irreversible than ever before, and already cracking, crumbling apart into nothing…

"It's all my fault…" Barry gasped, the pain so great in his chest, the rest of him felt numb, empty, barely able to stand. He let himself fall to his knees as he stared at the ice, what was left of Captain Cold who Barry had just let die. "It's all my fault…"

"Barry?!"

"What's happening?!"

"I killed him," Barry said, hot and ready tears filling his eyes, the ache so powerful it burned. "The gun, it…it backfired, and…and the speed force…exploded…"

"Barry…" Caitlin called more softly, parsing together what he meant.

"Cold's…dead?" Cisco said.

Hearing it spoken aloud almost made Barry sick all over the pavement. He hunched forward, pulling his hands to his chest, staring at the still cracking ice. Cisco and Caitlin kept talking at him, trying to get him to explain, telling him he must have done everything he could, that it wasn't his fault, there was nothing he could have done, but that was such a lie.

The man in blue had orchestrated this. Knocked Cold's gun away on purpose to break it. Collided their speed force trails together to cause the explosion. Barry didn't know if the target had been him or Cold, but it didn't matter. None of it would have happened if Barry had been faster, or if he'd simply gone after Piper right away like he should have.

"It was just a game," Barry said brokenly, cutting off whatever Caitlin and Cisco were saying. "We were just…having fun. I never had to worry with him, not him, you know that, it was just a game."

"Barry…"

Barry shook his head as the tears streamed down his face. Things had been so much better. They had an understanding, a respect for each other. He never wanted things to end like this. He'd never even thought about them ending.

The ice crumbled further with a loud creak. Barry could see the blue of Cold's parka and had to turn away for a moment because he couldn't watch the man's body break into pieces. But he had to look back, he had to see this and know…only to watch the rest of the ice give way and reveal Cold looking whole and pristine in the wake of it.

Barry flashed to his feet. Was it a trick? In another moment, would the body crumble away too? But even the arm that had first become encased looked fine now, while the cold gun was in shattered pieces beside him. Even Cold's skin didn't look chapped or raw.

"Barry, please, you have to talk to us," Caitlin tried again.

"Wait," Barry said, breathless, too hopeful to believe what his eyes were telling him. "Just wait."

He walked to Cold's side, swiftly but not at Flash speed, too cautious to go that fast just now, and knelt beside him. He removed the glove from his right hand, reached out to feel Cold's pulse. The slow but steady thrum beneath Barry's fingers rejuvenated him, and he laughed through his still falling tears.

"He's alive…he has a pulse, he's alive!"

"Barry, you have to get him back here!" Caitlin said.

Barry nodded, eventually remembering that his friends couldn't see him. "I'm coming right now, be ready," he said, and gathered Cold into his arms, leaving the blown apart cold gun and lingering ice behind.

He looked around once for any sign of the man in blue, but when not even a stray spark of lightning caught his eye, he set his sights on S.T.A.R. Labs and getting Cold to safety.

Caitlin and Cisco waited for him in the main labs when he arrived. Caitlin ordered him to remove Cold of any and all unnecessary gear, and Barry flashed through taking off the parka, gloves, and goggles. It was almost a full minute later, with Caitlin checking his vitals, and Cisco bringing over machines to hook Cold up for a more thorough examination, that they all paused in wonder at the sight of his face.

"Does he look…younger to you guys?" Cisco broached the subject. "Not that I thought he looked old before, but…you know…the grey's gone, and his face…"

"It's all smoothed out…" Barry said. He hadn't realized earlier, certainly not right after the incident, or with the goggles still covering part of Cold's face. But now that he was in just his sweater, pants, and boots, they could really see him.

"We'll sort that out later," Caitlin said, "for now we need to make sure he's healthy. Barry, I need you to go over in detail everything that happened."

Barry explained about the cold gun breaking, backfiring, and how, when Barry dashed forward to try and save Cold from the effects of the gun, the speed force had erupted. Then he reminded himself that it hadn't happened on its own, and described the man in blue.

"A speedster in blue?" Cisco said. "Another evil Flash? Just what we need…"

"He was fast," Barry said, "but I don't know if faster than me or just…good at catching me off guard. I wasn't prepared for him either time, but he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. I didn't get a good look at him, just the general shape of a person, the blue suit…"

"We'll figure it out, Barry," Caitlin said. "For now…Cold's okay." She paused in her work with Cold to place a gentle hand on Barry's arm.

While Caitlin and Cisco worked, Cold still unconscious, which worried Barry more than he could say, he changed out of the Flash suit into some sweats and paced around the labs waiting for news. Cold's vitals, at first glance, all seemed normal, despite the apparent de-aging.

Barry worried that something about the speed force and time travel had been the cause. What if Cold had lost all of his memories from after he was the age he appeared to be now, and Barry had accidentally reset his supervillain to ten years younger, or more? At least that would be better than having killed him, but Barry didn't think he could forgive himself for stealing years of Cold's life away either.

They had a heart monitor on him, no IV, no need just yet, and Caitlin was checking a blood sample, when Barry thought he saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. He glared in the direction he'd seen it, standing up, on guard, but when nothing more appeared, he wondered if he was just imagining things now, too distraught to think clearly.

"Barry, you have to look at this," Cisco called from beside Caitlin at one of the monitors.

"What is it?" Barry said, passing a glance at Cold on the nearby hospital bed, looking unfairly peaceful in his sleep, before joining the other two, Caitlin seated, and Cisco hovering behind her.

"Cold's blood sample," Caitlin said. "We don't have a previous sample to compare against, but I can tell by looking at it that it isn't normal. In fact, if I compare it to a sample of yours…there are several similarities."

"The explosion mixed his DNA with mine?" Barry asked.

"I don't know… The samples aren't identical by any means—he wouldn't have your speed, for example, judging by what I see here, but the regeneration…" She shrugged, and glanced at Cold herself. "He's returned to his prime, maybe from being in the speed force with you, syncing with you somehow and de-aging to match. He doesn't seem quite as young as you, but close. His healing, his metabolism. That explosion mixed with the speed force was like a mini particle accelerator going off."

Barry's eyes widened. "And with the cold gun…"

"You turned Cold into a meta, Barry," Cisco said.

It wasn't good news or bad, really, just shocking, and nearly impossible with all of the factors that had had to fall into place for this to have happened without killing Cold instead.

"Maybe that was the man in blue's plan all along." Cisco frowned thoughtfully. "He didn't attack you directly. Maybe he knew…maybe he wanted this to happen."

"But why?" Barry said.

A soft groan alerted them all back to the bed. Barry was at Cold's side in seconds, Cisco and Caitlin rushing over as well. Cold shifted in place like he was in pain. He blinked groggily around the room, his hand finding the heart monitor beneath his hitched up sweater before he recognized the faces looking down at him.

"What happened?" he asked in a gruff, exhausted voice. "I remember...pain…" His eyes snapped open. "The gun! My hand…" He stared at his right hand, which was fine, safe, not covered in ice, but as he looked at it…that slowly began to change.

Barry shook his head, assuming he was imagining it, thinking back to the night's events and what he had seen when the cold gun backfired. But the more he watched, he couldn't deny that this was indeed happening again. From seemingly out of nowhere, Cold's hand became encased in ice, and the ice continued to spread up his arm toward his elbow.

Cold cried out, sat up in the bed, holding his right arm out away from him, staring in horror, and Barry waited for that same blood-curdling scream…

And then he saw it again—the flash of blue. Barry wasn't expecting it, wasn't sure he was even really seeing anything, but he wasn't about to be caught off guard again when Cold was panicking in front of him after something this strange speedster had purposely caused.

Barry flashed forward, reaching out for the blue blur, that within the speed force slowed to Barry's own speed. Barry could see the body, the suit, and with his attention fully on this man, it was almost too easy to grab him by the arm and throw him away from the hospital bed before he could reach it. A crash sounded as the man slammed into a nearby table, toppling and rolling onto the floor as his speed was interrupted. Whatever he had been about to do to Cold, Barry wouldn't allow it.

He zipped to the man in blue and snatched him up by the front of his suit, so like Barry's own, he saw—the leather-like jacket, pants, and gloves. Goggles similar to Cold's covered his face along with a cowl, though it didn't cover the top of his head like Barry's, and had sharp protrusions more straight back than Barry's lightning bolts at his ears.

His hair was shorn short and dark brown, his skin through the opening of the mask a smooth mocha complimented by the blue. The symbol on his chest wasn't a bolt either, but a tilted 4-point star in white, with a straight on star overlapping it but not connecting, only the points visible, creating something like a spark or jagged snowflake.

"Who are you? What do you want with Cold? Why are you doing this?!" Barry demanded, ready to hurl the man back into the wall if he resisted.

Only he didn't resist. He pulled the goggles from his eyes and cool blue looked at Barry through the mask, wide, surprised, scared even, while gloved hands came up to hold to Barry's wrists gently. "I—"

Cold cried out again. Barry risked a glance back to see that this momentary distraction wasn't enough to hold off the creeping ice from crawling further up Cold's arm.

"I'm trying to help!" the man in blue cried, dragging Barry's attention back to him. "Please," he squeezed Barry's wrists, but wasn't fighting, wasn't struggling. His eyes were beseeching. His voice…sounded so familiar somehow, but Barry couldn't place it. "I can help. Let me help."

"You caused this," Barry growled at him.

"I had to!" the…kid insisted. He sounded too young, and looked it too—his eyes, what Barry could see of his face, despite his mostly grown body. "I had to," he said again. "It would have happened anyway, I just had to make sure it happened right. Please let me help."

Cold was breathing heavily on the bed, though he didn't sound in pain, just frightened, unsure, as the ice reached his shoulder, and Caitlin and Cisco stood back not knowing how to help.

Barry glared into this stranger's familiar blue eyes—everything about him felt like déjà vu, and Barry didn't like it, didn't trust it, but he didn't know how else to help Cold through this. He set the kid in blue down none too gently.

"Then help him. But if you try anything else…" He let the threat linger.

The kid nodded, and flashed around Barry toward the bed, setting Barry on edge to see another speedster zip around him so easily, but feeling at a loss for anything else to do. Caitlin and Cisco backed away, while the kid held up his hands nonthreateningly as he approached Cold on the bed.

"It's okay…it's okay, it doesn't hurt, right? Because it's yours now, not the gun's. It doesn't really hurt," he said, like talking down a frightening child. Admittedly, Barry had never seen Cold look so spooked.

Cold stared at his ice covered arm, and frowned, furrowed his brow, seemed to convince himself that the kid was right—it didn't hurt, not like before when Barry had heard him keen in such awful pain.

"You can control it," the kid said. "Look, I'll show you. It's easy…" He lifted his own right hand, and from out of his palm grew a swirl of ice that soon covered him like an extra glove and expanded into a gauntlet covering his whole arm. Then he retracted it, willing it to recede and melt away until it vanished again like it had never been there.

This kid had the same powers. Ice…and speed. It didn't make any sense.

Barry exchanged a worried, helpless look with Caitlin and Cisco, who remained backed away from the bed, away from this stranger, and watched on.

Cold's breathing had even out, his expression calmer, collected, as he took in what the kid had showed him and looked at his own arm to attempt the same. With all the stubborn resolve and control Barry had come to expect from this man since they first met, he stared the ice down…until it started to drift away from his shoulder, retreating slower than what the kid had accomplished, but still dissolving, until finally Cold was left with his normal arm again. It didn't look wet from the ice, or frost covered. It looked perfectly fine, as if untouched.

Cold tightened his fist, and ice coated his hand again for a moment, then receded just the same as he got a handle on controlling it better. He paused to narrow his eyes at the kid beside the bed, still sitting up, not relaxing or letting his guard down.

"Who are you?" he demanded, and Barry took that as his cue to step in as well.

"You forced the cold gun to the ground when I was just trying to take it," Barry said, stalking forward so that the kid was trapped between him and Cold on the bed. "You meant to break it. And when I tried to help, you ran in front of me to heighten the speed force, so that when my connection collided with yours…"

"Boom." The kid grinned back at him. "That was pretty cool, right?"

Barry resisted the urge to snatch the kid up by the scruff of his suit again, but Cold didn't afford him the same luxury. He ripped the heart monitor from his chest as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Wait!" Caitlin called out with a rush back toward them, but Cold held up a hand, shook his head to say he was fine.

He stood, boxing the kid in between him and Barry even more tightly, and towered over him, the kid maybe an inch shorter like he had one more growth spurt in him before he'd be his full height. "Who are you?" Cold demanded again. "You're not answering our questions. You're not denying anything Flash is saying either. Why did you do this to me?"

It amazed Barry that even when Cold sounded angry, he never sounded out of control, which made his tone all the scarier in Barry's opinion, full of power and promise like the eye of a storm.

The kid flinched, turned to better look at Barry and Cold at the same time without being caught between them, but ended up backing into a table. "Okay!" He held up his hands as Barry took a step closer to him too, taking Cold's lead.

With the goggles already hanging from his neck, slowly the kid pulled back his cowl, revealing his full face, and…wow, no wonder the eyes and voice had seemed familiar. He looked so much like Cold. His eyes especially, and even though he was darker skinned, the facial features held a similarity too, with maybe just a touch of something at his mouth that was also familiar to Barry but in a different way, an echo of someone else.

Barry looked to Cold for an explanation, because this kid had to be related to him, he had to be, but Cold seemed as confused as Barry.

"I'm Michael," the kid said. He couldn't be older than sixteen. "And I told you. It would have happened anyway, I just had to make sure it happened right."

"Meaning what? How would you know that?" Cold asked, looking even younger to Barry now as he compared him against this teenager. Cold didn't know about that part, that he looked—was—younger, but it obviously hadn't affected his mind.

Michael's eyes darted between them, then looked aside at Caitlin and Cisco, who had started to press in from the other side of the bed. "I'm not supposed to say anything! I wasn't even supposed to let you see me. You told me to stay out of sight and come home right after," he pointed at Cisco, "but I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Cold whirled around accusingly, and Cisco snapped back, shaking his head, "What? I've never even seen this kid before!" but Barry began to understand.

"You're from the future," he said, arms folded, head bowed as the pieces fell into place. "You have my powers too, the speed force. You came back in time to make sure this happened." He looked up, eyes narrowed now but not as accusing as Cold still looked.

Cold knew the ins and outs of Barry's powers, but the time travel aspect had never affected him directly. Barry sometimes thought Cold didn't quite believe him about that part, but he looked more convinced now.

Michael just nodded.

"But I don't get it," Cisco said, walking around the bed since Cold was no longer glaring at him. "How do you have both Cold's and Barry's powers? We've never seen a meta with two full power sets before."

"I was born with them," Michael shrugged.

"Born," Caitlin repeated, awed and interested now, "metas are going to be born? How?"

He was a striking kid with the darker skin and bright eyes, the lean body within the blue suit. But something nagged at the back of Barry's mind, something about the kid's smile, something else in his voice that didn't fully belong to Cold, something strange and impossible.

Michael gave another hunched shrug, seemingly so small with Barry and Cold so close on either side of him, practically pinning him to the table, while Cisco and Caitlin closed in as well. "Because my parents have these powers. Cold…and Lightning. They call me Hailstorm. But my real name," Michael said, looking up very purposely at Captain Cold…and then at Barry, "is Michael Joseph Allen-Snart."


TBC...

How Michael exists will be explained in chapter 2 on Friday. Michael was first created by coldflashtrash as Len's not!canon son, and many of us have fallen in love with him.