Author: Violette Poète
Summary : Her brother had always been there for her, and she knows he always will be. Set after 2x03 Family of Rogues
Better than
Walking down the graveyard, Lisa Snart felt alone. But she knew that was how it should be. Had he been a free man, her brother wouldn't have come with her either. She could hardly blame him.
She didn't go to the funeral, two days ago. She spent the day at the safehouse where her brother and her were staying, wondering, wandering, worrying and waiting. She half expected Len to just show up, but he never did. She knew she should be angry at Team Flash for arresting him, but she wasn't.
Sure, she would have preferred if the Flash had let him go, but the guy had just witnessed her brother kill someone, so what choice did he had… Plus, they managed (well, Cisco did) to save her the same day so how angry could she really be. She knew her big brother better than anyone, and she knew that if he had really wanted to, he would have escaped.
He needed time. He always did when it came to their father. But she… She felt like it was time. Time to move on. To let go of that awful past. At last she found the place where her father was buried. The tombstone was simple and the ground freshly turned. She tried but felt nothing at that sight. Len hated him but Lisa never cared enough for their father to hate him now.
Hate was wasted on the dead anyway.
She watched the blue sky, heard the noises of the city not far and sighed. She missed her brother. Even if they only had not seen each other for a few weeks, she still missed him. He had always been there for her when she needed him. Always… She had this clear memory of him.
He is eleven, maybe twelve years old. He opens the door of her bedroom, and she is so relieved, fearing it wasn't him. He closes the door behind him. The noise was so loud, and she was so scared. But Len had told her not to move, to stay in her bedroom and she had obeyed him. She is siting on her bed and he approaches. It's at that moment that she sees it. The bruises on his face, one on his cheek, one underneath his right eye. His lower lip is bleeding, and even though it must hurt, he smiles.
Happily, gently, like he has not been just beaten up by the only person who was supposed to take care of them. He points at her bed and whispers.
-You should be sleeping.
He comes near her, helps her lie down and tucks her in. He had invented this game for her, to help her see that things could be worse. It wasn't true, of course, but it was a nice thought.
-Better this than…
He pretends to think.
-Than catching a cold under the sun.
She smiles, she was sick two weeks ago underneath the bluest sky ever. She replies.
-Better this than pineapple.
She hates pineapple.
-Better this than cops.
They hate cops. What's the point of cops if they can't even help them?
She closes her eyes, suddenly tired. And the last thing she hears is his voice.
-Better me than you.
It sounds like a promise.
It was. The first time their father tried to lay a hand on her, Len jumped on him and kicked him, punched him violently, again and again. Lisa had never seen him that angry before or after. Then he had grabbed her hand and they had left never to return.
Lisa looked down on her father's grave.
-Better you than him. Better you than me. Better you than anybody.
There was nothing else to say, nothing else to do.
She left, wondering when Len would be back. But she was not worried. He was always with her for Christmas.
...THE END...