To make this fit in with the If I Never 'verse, I had to tweak the timeline. In this world, Scudder emerges from the mirror in early November 2017, about a year after the canon timeline. This story is set between "Shovel Talk" and "A Cold Carol" in the IIN series. (And Flashpoint never happened here.)

I lifted and tweaked some dialogue from the actual episode. I own nothing!

"Where's Snart? Where's Snart?!"

"Man...he's been working with the Flash now..."

"...what the hell is a Flash?"

"He's still not answering."

"Did you leave a message?"

"I've left about 10 messages. Well. Two, anyway." Barry Allen frowns at his phone again before setting it down on the desk and looking around. "Guys...do you think that maybe..."

The silence draws out as the three people currently in S.T.A.R. Labs stare at each other, Barry frowning, Caitlin biting her lip, Cisco paused in the process of perusing a monitor.

"So...what the hell has got the...'brain trust' here so agitated today?"

And that for their worries. Barry lets out a sigh as he turns to watch Leonard Snart stroll into the room, ignoring Cisco's whispered "Dude!" and Caitlin's noise of annoyance.

"Snart. Don't you ever answer your phone?"

"Sometimes I have to get the point across that I am not at your beck and call." The former crook gives them a withering look as he parks his hip again nearby table and crosses his arms. "Why all the concerned faces?"

Barry takes the bullet. "Did you know...how do you know…a Sam Scudder?"

That gets a response beyond typical Snart attitude. The other man straightens up out of his slouch, smirk vanishing and eyes narrowing as he stares at the speedster. "Scudder vanished. Without a trace."

"Right after the particle accelerator exploded, right?" Snart continues to stare; if anything, his eyes narrow further. Barry shifts uncomfortably, but continues. "I think we know why. He's back. And he's looking for you."

"Explain." The tone is typically curt, but the body language is more tense, coiled; the eyes are…well, mirrors. This is the tiniest glimpse back at the old Snart, the icy one, but Barry knows the man well enough now to guess at what it's hiding.

Leonard Snart is rattled.

"Apparently he's a meta who can travel through mirrors," Barry tells the former criminal. "But…"

"Mirror Master," Caitlin interjects helpfully, grinning at Cisco, who's frowning. "Harry named him, just before went back to Earth-2 for a bit to see Jessie."

Barry ignores them. "Scudder's gone after at least one member of your old crew," he continues, still watching the tense Snart. "Leon Williams? Threw him through a mirror…and out a second-story window." Silence. "Snart? Why's he doing this? What's he likely to do next?"

Snart looks away. Watching his profile, Barry can almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes, definitely does see his lips tighten in…discomfort? But after a moment, he seems to shake it off, turns back to them with smirk firmly in place, but something complicated still lurking in his eyes.

"He blames me. At least, that'd be my guest. For his…affliction." The drawl is back, the studied nonchalance. "I was there, you see. Broome Industries; Scudder and…an associate...laid low there." His lips twitched. "Relatively speaking. They were there when the particle accelerator blew. And I…had been there moments before." At Barry's expression, he shrugs. "I left. It seemed wisest."

"Mmmm." He'd had no idea Snart had been in Central City at the time of the explosion. He spares a moment to think of Leonard Snart as a meta, shudders, and refocuses. "Well, Scudder's hellbent on finding you and he's going after anybody who worked with you in the past. Joe's interviewing one of them right now."

"Mick's off in the Waverider." Snart's voice is flat, emotionless. "Lisa's still out of town. Ramon…"

"I already called her." Cisco holds his hands up defensively as Snart's head whips around. "I know it probably wasn't my place, OK? But I told her to stay in National City with her friends until you called to say otherwise."

Snart looks at him a long moment, then nods, curtly. "Thank you."

Cisco's jaw drops, but the former criminal is already looking elsewhere, back at Barry. "Rosalind Dillon," he says. "He'll go for her first. Do you know…"

"That's who Joe's talking to."

Caitlin watches the screen as Cisco pulls up the relevant information. "Also a meta. It says she has the ability to induce crippling vertigo."

"Ooh, oh, the Top. Like a top. She's the Top. That's her name. Top," Cisco says happily. "Take that, Harry!"

Caitlin shakes her head at him. "OK! Do we think that she can lead us to Scudder?"

"We'll have to see if Joe gets any answers out of her."

But Snart is shaking his head now. "She won't lead you to Scudder. But Scudder will go for her." His mouth twists as the other three look at him. "They were…involved. I…"

And then he stops.

Curious, Barry watches the play of…yes, emotion…on the other man's face, watches more pieces getting put together behind those eyes. This, time, though, it's a little more raw. A little more…more. Finally, he shakes his head, looks back at them and utters one word.

"Sara."

"But…Scudder wouldn't know about Sara. Right? That was years before you even met her." Caitlin bites her lip again. "There are a few news photographs out there of 'Captain Cold' working with the Flash and we should probably take that into account, although he won't know where to find you, Barry. But I don't think you, Snart, and Sara, as the White Canary, have been connected on the record."

Snart's voice is rough. "I don't think so. But…" He looks at Barry and…

It's only by a huge amount of effort that Barry Allen keeps his face blank. Because just for a second, Leonard Snart's eyes are…pleading.

"If he knows...if he finds out about Sara," Snart says simply, "he'll go after her. I…he just will."

It's obvious to all of them that there's a story there. For a fraction of second, Barry nearly asks for it.

"Is Sara still in Star City?" he says instead. "She'd be safe there."

"She's getting back today," comes the tense response. "Should arrive about an hour from now, actually. Allen. Could you…would you…"

He saves the man the trouble of forcing the words out. "I'll meet the train, whisk her out of there if I need to. Here or the apartment?"

"Here." The relaxation is miniscule, but noticable. "I think the apartment's still safe, but just in case. Now..."

Barry's phone rings and Snart stops in mid-sentence, watches the speedster answer and exchange a few terse words with the caller. Watching him in return, Barry gets the impression the former criminal knows perfectly well what the call is about.

"That was Joe." He looks at Snart. "You were right. Scudder and Dillon are gone. He took her right out of Iron Heights."

The other man's eyes narrow again. But the reassurance about Lisa and Sara seems to taken care of most of his trepidation. Now...he just looks pissed.

"We need a plan."

"I gotta be honest. I never understood...this."

Funny, how well he remembers those words now.

Oh, he'd meant them then, meant them utterly. He'd looked at Scudder and Dillon and shaken his head with a bit of annoyance and disgust, not only because they'd broken the rules he'd specifically laid down for the group, but because...why would anyone ever want to voluntarily take on a weakness like that?

Because they are. They are each other's weakness. Each can be used against the other; it's as simple as that.

Incomprehensible.

Once the chaos had cleared a bit from that night in Central City, though, he'd found that Scudder had vanished, that Rosa was locked up in Iron Heights. He'd spared, perhaps, a mental snort for that. As soon as the heat had come down, of course, she'd found out what Scudder had really thought of her. He had, it seemed, had saved himself and left her to rot. Apparently there'd been some vestige of intelligence left in there.

He'd put them behind him without a backward glance.

Until now.

"Like my sister says...anyone can stoop over and pick up nothing."

"Are you OK?"

He blinks at the voice, a distinctly different one than Lisa's, and drags himself back to 2017. "I'll manage," he drawls, turning his head just a little toward the speaker.

Caitlin Snow shrugs at his tone, turning back to her computer screen. Barry has departed to intercept Sara; Ramon has wandered off, muttering to himself, to see what they have in-house to start things rolling on their tentative plans. They're the only two left here.

He hesitates a moment, realizing the question was well-meant. Once, he wouldn't have given a shit...but once, he sure as hell wouldn't have been here in the first place.

"Scudder...Rosa...it's complicated," he muses to the ceiling, saving face just a little. "Didn't prefer to work with them. They know their work well, enough, I guess, but neither of them is the brightest bulb in the socket, if you know what I mean. And Scudder...had a streak of viciousness in him. He'd kill for looking at him cross-eyed. You had to keep a tight rein on him, and Rosa...was no help. She'd egg him on."

He turned his head just a little. Caitlin is listening, continuing to work, a thoughtful expression on her face. After a moment, he continues. "It made working with them...exhausting. And I'd lay down the rules and they'd just ignore them. There were reasons for those rules. They protected all of us." He catches the faint note of heat in his voice and shakes his head. "Scudder did it one too many times."

Caitilin is watching him again. "You went there to kill him," she says softly.

"Yep." He gives her a thin smile. "I did. The rules were important; he wouldn't follow them. It jeopardized every member of the crew. I couldn't have that."

She's silent for a long moment, looking down at her monitor, or maybe just her hands. It's his turn to watch in silence.

"Would you really have done it in front of her?" she asks, finally, a tight and painful note in her voice, and he remembers suddenly that this woman has lost more than one person abruptly, violently, and... also right in front of her. It makes him pause. And when he speaks again, it makes his voice even gentler.

"You understand, I wasn't thinking of it that way," he says, talking to the wall again. "Not really. I thought they...their relationship...was...stupidity." He shrugs. "Weakness. Didn't figure...well. I thought she'd run. Guess I thought when it came down to it, she'd just protect herself. I never understood."

He looks at her, now, meets her eyes, because he knows he still has penance to do, quite a bit, actually, and this woman is one of those who deserves it.

"So. You see why they can't know about Sara. Scudder'd kill her with...with glee...and maybe I deserve it, but she doesn't," he tells her.

But Caitlin is shaking her head now, looking at him, and the expression on her face is fierce. She is protective of her people, is Caitlin Snow, and somehow, despite everything, he and Sara have become two of that select group.

"That's not you anymore," she tells him, and she doesn't know, can't know, how it resonates, how it brings back thoughts of Russia and the 1980s and the woman with whom, though he didn't realize it at the time, he was falling in love.

"No," he tells her soberly. "But it was."

Star City had been...frustrating.

Sara catches a glimpse of her scowling face reflected in the glass window of the train and sighs.

"Honey...baby girl...is everything OK? I mean...you know you don't need to stay in Central, right? You don't owe this guy anything, you know that? No...no...sweetie, I looked him up, no, don't be mad...his record...Sara..."

She's tried and tried to put the League behind her...but before she'd left Star City this time, she'd wound up, once again, reminding him how many people she's killed. And while now, later, she's furious with herself for playing that card, she can't help resenting him for pushing her to it.

Even Oliver had been better than that. Or least had had the sense to keep his damned mouth shut.

When the train comes to a stop in Central City, she gives it a few minutes to clear out, then shoulders her bag, and makes her way to the door. Scanning the waiting faces for Len, she starts to take a step out onto the pavement and...

Swoosh.

When Barry finally stops, his eyes are wide...and there's a knife pressed firmly to his throat, its wielder having been thoroughly unimpressed by kidnap-by-speedster.

"Uh," he says, holding very, very still. "Sorry, Sara. There's trouble and I sort of promised..."

"And what, none of you knows how to use a phone? You could have warned me." She's just pissed enough to leave the knife there a few moments longer, watching him squirm.

"Oh. Yeah. That might have been a good idea." He rubs his neck as she removes the blade and gives her the patented Barry Allen puppy-dog eyes. "But really. Leonard was worried."

She looks around, finally, getting a good look at the shadowed corner into which he's whisked them, sheltered and away from anyone who might take a shot at them. "About me? What's going on?"

"It's...complicated."

"Isn't it always?"

Leonard Snart, she thinks, will never be an overly demonstrative man. Especially not while they're in the company of others.

But the look on his face when he enters the Cortex and sees her standing there with Barry, Joe, Iris and Caitlin is...remarkable. He crosses the room, eyes on her face, drinking her in, and has raised a hand as if to touch her face when Joe clears his throat.

The older man gives Sara an apologetic look when she levels a glare at him, but turns his attention back to the conversation Len and Cisco's entrance had interrupted.

"So you saw Sam Scudder and Rosalind Dillon escape through a glass window?" Caitlin asks, a slight note of disbelief in her voice.

Joe shrugs, starting to pace.. "Like I said, he grabbed her hand, they walked to the window and…poof, they were gone."

"So, mirrors, windows, it sounds he can travel through anything that has a reflective surface," Barry muses.

"How exactly does he do that?" Iris ponders aloud, but her father shakes his head.

"Look, I can't pretend to understand or care about the science of it all, but we need to find Dillon and Scudder before something really bad happens, so I'm going to go old-school at the precinct." He turns to Snart. "Any thoughts?"

"They won't go back to their old hidey-hole at Broome Industries if they know I'm in town." His eyes narrow. "I think they have another safe house, but I don't know where it is. They'll probably check all my old spots; I can give you a list, but most of them are empty. Even if they take a peek, they won't stick around."

It escapes none of the people in the room that he has both said "most of them" ...but, nonetheless, offered a list. Joe eyes him a moment before shaking his head.

"You're probably right. Still. Write them down, just in case?"

He returns the curt nod, nods again to the rest of the room and then leaves. Slowly, the rest of the group breaks apart, Iris drifting toward a corner as Barry speaks earnestly to her, Cisco bending over a monitor, Caitlin heading purposefully out of the room. After a moment, Leonard turns to Sara.

His eyes are more guarded than before...but before had been an aberration. She studies him, folding her arms as he returns the scrutiny, eventually shaking his head and looking away.

"Sara...I have a story to tell you."

"Where the hell did you go?"

If Snart is, indeed, in town, the old warehouse is risky. There's a safe house, but it's abandoned, moldy, with no power and no running water. It will do, however, as a place to talk.

Scudder doesn't want to talk. He wants to hit something, or shoot something. But until he figures out just what the fuck is going on, more or less, it will do.

"How many times do I have to tell you Rosa?" He paces to the other end of the room, spins around. "I was stuck in there. In a mirror. Whatever I was that hit me gave me this crazy ability. And to me, all this just happened…last night."

Rosalind is perched on a edge of one of the room's few remaining pieces of furniture. Even her body language is different; she's almost huddled in on herself, rather than the confident woman he once knew. It irritates him and bothers him in equal measure.

"It's been three years, Sam," she says quietly. "So many things are different now."

He paces a few more steps, stops. "You were hit too, weren't you? You can do things like me. "

"Yeah."

"Show me."

His tone is brusque, but instead of giving him attitude back, she just gives him a quick glance and stands. "You might want to hold on to something."

He starts to scoff, but things better of it, bracing himself against the doorjamb. Moments later, still getting his bearings, his head aching, he's glad of it.

His expression now has something of respect in it, but Rosa's eyes are still sad. "See, Sammy? Too much has changed."

He staggers back to his feet. "Then let's change it back. I can stop Snart, Rosa. We can stop Snart."

"Snart?" She laughs, a little laugh with no humor in it. "He's one of the 'good guys' now, they say. Ain't that unbelievable? Working with the Flash—you said you heard about him, right? And Snart's got himself this fancy ice gun, this dumb parka, goggles…a right superhero, he is."

Scudder stares at her.

"Heard that," he says finally. "Didn't believe it. He must be putting one over on them. No way Leonard Snart is any kind of a hero. Not in any world, not in any time."

"Well, he's not pulling heists anymore, and there are even more people in Iron Heights cursing him out." Rosa shrugs. "You hear things, even in my…situation. Whatever reason he's doing it…he's doing it."

"Huh." Scudder ponders a moment, then shrugs it off, looking back at her with his eyes gleaming.

"Then let's take this city," he tells her. "We can be who we want to now. We can be in control. There's no one in this city who can stop us now. Not this 'Flash.' And not Snart!"

There are a few hospital-type beds in Caitlin's semi-makeshift medical facility in S.T.A.R. Labs, and at this point, they always keep a go-bag each stowed away there. They'll behave—mostly—under the building's roof, but Sara's still curled into his side with her head on his shoulder when Barry, well, flashes into the room, skidding to a halt nearby.

He blinks at them, but frankly, he's interrupted them in more…compromised…situations. This doesn't earn more than a blink.

"Robbery at First National," he says. "Scudder and Dillon."

Sara's on her feet in an instant, Snart following only a second behind her. He reaches for the parka draped over a nearby chair, but Barry holds up a hand. "I don't think you should go…"

"They're looking for me…"

"…not yet. We need to be more prepared. When Cisco finishes putting things together. Until then…Snart, he can move through any reflective surface. And it doesn't seem like he's going to hesitate to kill you if he gets the chance. You go out there, he will have that chance."

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Leonard Snart is anything but a fool, but he damn well doesn't have to like it.

"Then what is it you want me to do?" he drawls to hide the irritation. "If I have to stay stuck in this cage?"

Barry's eyes flick to Sara. Leonard's eyes follow and…

"No."

But Sara shakes her head at him, moving to a cabinet and pulling out her bag.

"I'm going, Len," she says, shouldering it and looking over her shoulder as she heads into the bathroom to change. "He needs backup, someone to keep an eye on…what did Cisco call her? The Top. They have no way to know that…we…that I'm anything other than some other random do-gooder. I'll be fine."

He wants to protest. Knows, too, that Sara has her mind made up and there's nothing he can really do to change it…not without playing cards he's not willing to play. Cards it would be unfair to put in play.

So he watches as she emerges in her White Canary outfit, accepts a lengthy kiss and a long and soulful look ended with an impish smile, then watches again as she steps up to Barry, lets him put an arm around her (with an amusingly panicked look on Barry's part), and…vanishes in a flash.

And that's all he can do. Watch.

Sam Scudder, he thinks, has already had a tiny bit of revenge…in a way he would probably never believe.

"We keep this up, baby, we'll be set for life."

Robbing First National has been easy. Scudder would say too easy…if he were someone like Snart, in it for the love of the game as much or more as the love of money.

But he's not Snart. He's never been anything like Snart, really, and apparently that's only become more so. There will be a sizable take from this score, one that's theirs alone, and there is no one, no one, who will have the nerve to tell them to sit on it, to do this or not do that.

Scudder likes that, actually. He likes it a lot.

"Then what are you waiting for? Let's do it again!" Rosa is back to her old self, too, at least mostly. She twirls around and grabs his hand, going up on her toes for a kiss.

He obliges. "Anything for you, baby."

"Yeah, so, we're not going to let you leave here with that…" A strange male voice echoes in the bank foyer.

Ah…it's hard not to tense as he turns to see what "guests" their games have brought out.

And he curses himself when he finds himself relaxing just a little at the realization that Leonard Snart is not, after all, one of them. Instead, there's a tall, lanky kid in a red outfit…ah, the vaunted Flash….and a short, blond woman in white leather, a long staff in her hands and an oddly intense look on her face.

Almost as if this were personal, Scudder thinks, frowning, then puts it from his mind.

"Hey. Flash. Heard a lot about you." He cuts his gaze to the blonde. "Can't say the same for you."

The woman offers them a thin smile. "White Canary," she says, whipping her staff around. And it almost seems like she might say more, but the Flash cuts in.

"I'm sorry, Scudder, but your little crime spree, it's going to have to end here." God, he even sounds young. Scudder shakes his head.

"Oh, I don't think you have much say in it," he tells the kid. "I'm going to take whatever I want."

The Flash cocks his head. "I thought you were looking for Leonard Snart?"

Oh, really? He holds back from demanding information he's probably not going to get. Instead, he feigns nonchalance. (At least two of the people watching could tell him that's a totally a Snart-like move.)

"Why bother?" he asks. "His reign is over. There's a new king in town."

Rosa steps up beside him, staring at the other blonde. "And I'm the queen."

The White Canary gives her a smile, and there's a little too much of a snarl in it. "Yeah, I wouldn't be too sure about that," she drawls, and there's something familiar…

But he doesn't say anything, just grabs Rosa's hand, put his other hand out and runs toward the reflective surface at the side of the foyer. And into it.

"Where'd they go?"

"There."

Outside, Barry points at the light rippling up the side of the building. Sara imperiously holds her hand out to him and he gives her a doubtful look. She frowns at him.

"Rosa …'The Top'...you saw that look. She wants to prove something. They both want a fight. He's going to have to deposit her somewhere and when he does, you'll have to contend with them both at once," she tells him. "Take me. I'll deal with her."

"You're just pissed because they took that shot at Snart." But he grabs her arm. "You're right. Come on!"

It's a good thing Cisco made her newest set of leathers out of something speedster-resistant, she thinks distantly, as Barry pulls her up the building, following the mirror ripple, around it, once, twice. She doesn't have more time to think about it, though, because as they flicker over the top of the building again, he lets her go and runs on.

She sticks the landing, and she's quite proud of that. And then she turns to see Rosalind Dillon staring at her.

"White Canary," the so-called Top muses. "I didn't know the name. Heard there was a lady in white fighting with the Flash, too, but nothing else. Now, where did you come from? Outta nowhere, wasn't it, about half a year ago? Little more? Right when..."

Damn.

"That's enough, Top," she drawls, aiming for distraction. ("You're starting to sound like Snart," Kendra tells her, in memory.) "Time to head back to Iron Heights like a good little criminal."

Dillon gives her a mocking, wide-eyed look. "Top," she repeats. "I like it. Because they spin, spin, spin..."

But Sara Lance is no rookie, and this isn't even her first time tangling with a meta who can mess with her mind. When Dillon starts speaking again, she closes her eyes, correctly reading that the other woman would feel the need to speak before invoking her powers.

And then she advances, staff in hand, knives up her sleeves ready to shake down at the merest sign they're needed.

She does not think they will be.

She hears the quick intake of the other woman's breath, hears the scuff of her feet and feels the air currents moving as she backs away. Yep…eye contact needed for her powers. Well, Sara is League-trained. She doesn't need her vision to take out a target.

Dillon scuttles to the right, away from the edge of the roof. Sara follows, vaulting agilely over a low wall memory tells her is in the way, narrowing the other woman's lead

"They didn't say you were a meta!" Dillon's tone is a trifle panicked. "What are you, a mind-reader?"

Sometimes truth is a weapon. "I don't need to be. I was trained by the League of Assassins."

Dillon's at the edge of the roof; she's stopped moving, frozen in alarm, and she had no weapons beyond her powers. From the way she moves and Leonard's recollections, Sara knows she's decent at hand-to-hand.

But no match for a League assassin. Sara brings her staff around, ready to deal Rosa Dillon a blow just strong enough to send her into dreamland.

But the other woman surprises her.

"Sam!" she screams. "Sammy! Help!"

And as Sara takes another step forward, Sam Scudder plunges out of the mirrored surface of the heating ductwork to Sara's right, grabs her arm, and drags her back into the reflection with him.

He means to leave her there, this pain-in-the-ass blonde who hadn't factored into his plans at all, who's apparently managed to best Rosa somehow, given how she'd screeched for his help. (And lucky for her that he'd been leading the Flash a merry chase nearby. They'll be…talking…about that.)

But no sooner has he dragged her into the mirror than he feels the bite of a razor-sharp blade at his neck, and then a small, strong hand wound into the lapel of his suit coat, an arm wrapped around his neck.

"You're not leaving me here, and I can do a hell of a lot of damage without killing you," a cold, feminine voice hisses into his ear as he struggles to keep moving. "Out. Now. Both of us, on the ground. Or else."

Well, fuck.

He hesitates and the blade bites a little harder, the arm tightens a little more. Choking, he plunges out of the mirror at ground level, landing hard and falling to his knees. The woman lets go as they emerge, landing with the grace of a dancer, damn her, and moving to aim that staff at him.

"Don't move, Scudder."

He glares at her, a hand at his throat, feeling the tiny trickle of blood there, wondering if he can get back into a mirror or if another move will result in another knife, a concussion or worse…

Rescue comes from a strange direction.

There's a red-and-gold flicker on the periphery of his vision and then the Flash skids to a stop between them, whirling to look at the woman.

"Sara! Are you…"

The kid isn't nearly as wary as the blond bitch. Scudder bounds back to his feet, grabs the Flash and shoves him bodily into a mirrored pane at the base of the building.

There's a yell from the White Canary (Sara, is it?) but he's managed to keep the so-called hero between him and her until the last second.

"Good luck gettin' him out!" he yells in her direction…and then vanishes into another pane.

"What happened?"

Barry's expression on the other side of the pane of mirrored glass, now back in S.T.A.R. Labs, is pissed. Leonard might be amused at it, if not for the fact that Scudder had also taken Sara into a damned mirror, and only the fact that Sara is, well, Sara means that she's not stuck there as well.

The woman in question looks weary, arms folded, staring at the glass. "He was trying to help. Scudder had me; Barry didn't know I had him, too."

"If he'd stopped running and started thinking for two seconds, he would have known…"

"It all happened very quickly, Len." Sara's expression is too tired to be truly called a glare. "Knock it off and help us come up with what to do next."

He lets out a huff of air and shrugs, unwilling to argue about it…but as the others start to squabble about what Barry is trying to tell them and ways to figure out what he's saying, he backs up a few steps, then turns and stalks off, needing to get away from this group of, of…heroes… for a few minutes.

On the other side of the room, he takes a deep breath. Another. Tries not to think. If Scudder had known…

"Hey."

"Hey." He should have known she would follow. "You sure you're OK?"

"You know I'd say if I wasn't." Sara moves up beside him, puts a hand on his arm, starts moving it up and down gently. A measure of how well she knows him, to understand that the physical touch would be welcome here and now when usually, it wouldn't. But he can stand with the evidence, warm and incontrovertible, that she's here and not trapped in cold glass and…

He covers her hand with his own. "You're OK."

She doesn't point out the repetition. "MmHmm." Her eyes lift to his, and he can see her considering her next words. "Len…I think Dillon might have started putting the pieces together. That you and I appeared in Central City about the same time, anyway."

"I always thought she was the smarter of the two. Though god knows Scudder didn't; that was just one of his failings. Although calling her that is probably damning with faint praise, anyway."

"I'm surprised you're not more worried about it."

"Oh, I'm worried about it. About Scudder, in particular, finding out? Yeah. But if Rosa figures something out on her own, he probably won't listen to her."

"Ass."

"Yep." He gives her a sidelong smile. "I wish I'd seen the look on his face when he realized how much they'd underestimated you."

"It was a thing of beauty." She gives him one of those sidelong grins. "He never saw it coming. His eyes were huge; he looked a bit like a fish out of water. Like he'd never considered canaries can have claws."

He laughs out loud at the description and grins back at her, feeling more…equilibrium is probably a good word…than he's felt since this whole mess began.

"God, I love you," he says suddenly, feeling the need to articulate it, the need to be sure she knows how much he values her.

How much he's changed since the last time he'd met Scudder and Rosa.

Sara blinks at him, startled not so much by the sentiment (they've exchanged those words any number of times) but by the impromptu nature of it and the location. Then she smiles, shakes her head, and goes up on her toes to kiss him lightly.

"I love you, too," she says.

There's a small, squeaky noise behind her, and they look over to see Cisco watching them with big eyes, looking like he'd like to be pretty much anywhere else…and like he has a message he doesn't want to deliver.

Leonard gives the other man a slow smile, fighting back the desire to snap.

"Ramon," he drawls instead, "any reason you're looking like I'm going to bite your head off? I'm going to want to, aren't I?"

"Um." The other man squares his shoulders. "Probably, yeah. Your cold gun. We, uh, need it."

"What?" Now he does snap. Sara rolls her eyes at him and puts a hand on his arm.

"To get Barry out, we need to get the mirror down to absolute zero and keep it there," Cisco tells him seriously. "We want to use the molecular decelerator and the cryogenic generator from the gun." He holds up a hand. "The old cold gun, the original copy I have, it can't do that, not quite. But you've made all sorts of tweaks to that thing over the years. I think maybe…maybe it will work. And I'll put it back the way I found it! I promise!"

It's only Sara's presence, silent and strong, at his side that keeps him from telling Ramon to fuck off, and his hand creeps down to the weapon as if to reassure himself it's still there.

Handing it over would be bad enough…but now, with Scudder and Rosa on the loose, possessed of meta human powers…

The gun is the only thing that gives him an edge from the man who'd been on the verge of killing Scudder four years ago, he thinks suddenly, in as close to panic mode as he ever gets.

Just as quickly, though, he knows it's not true. The woman with her hand on his arm, looking at him with eyes that suggest she knows exactly what's going through his head, gives him an edge. Four years of…yes, growth…give him an edge. The growing realization of what being a part of a team can mean, working together, the power of sacrifice…

Before he can think move about it, he yanks the gun from its holster on his thigh (concealing a smirk of satisfaction as Ramon takes an involuntary step backward), reverses it, and holds it out.

Ramon, recovering, gives him a sober nod, a quiet "thanks," and takes it…moving away posthaste before he can change his mind. Watching him go, Leonard sighs.

Sara squeezes his arm a little. "It'll be OK. And just think. If your cold gun…and all the improvements you've made to it…get Barry out of that mirror, you can hold it over his head forever."

The thought does make him smile. "Promise?"

"I'll help. I'll point it out constantly. I'll be absolutely obnoxious in the way all little sisters know instinctively. Oh! And I'll recruit Lisa to help needle Cisco."

This might just be worth it after all.

"Sammy…I've been thinking about something."

They're just outside Central City Municipal Bank, right on the verge of pulling their next job, but Rosa can't stop mulling over the events that took place right after the job at First National. She slows her steps to a halt, pulling on Sam's hand until he stops too, turning to look at her with irritation.

"I think that the White Canary knew something about Snart," she tells him. "And I'm wondering if we can use it."

Sam frowns at her. He still hasn't forgiven her because the other woman hadn't fallen for what he calls her "little trick," and then nearly took him out when he was off guard. "Explain."

"I was doing the math. I talked to people in Iron Heights. Read the paper. First time I heard about Snart helping the Flash was back in…June, I think. And that's about the same time I heard about this woman in white." She bites her lip. "Did you see the look on her face when you mentioned him? She looked really pissed."

"Snart has that effect on people." Sam rolls his eyes, tries to keep going. She stands her ground.

"No…like she was pissed at you. For dismissing him. And she…she talked like him. A little. Reminded me of him. People do that sometimes. When they're…close." She knows she's picked up some of Sam's mannerisms. She's not so sure he's picked up any of hers.

Sam stares at her a long moment…then bursts out laughing.

"Oh, that's rich," he says. "Rich. You're thinking they're…what? A thing? Rosa, Snart cares about only three things. The game. Money. And Snart. You know that."

"People change," she mutters. But he ignores her, continuing.

"He'll work with people, but the only person he tolerates beyond job to job is Rory, and they've tried to kill each other on a regular basis, I've heard. And Rory's gone completely off the grid now. Probably long dead." He smiles at her mockingly. "Let me keep an eye on the planning, sweetheart. The only thing that'll get to Snart, if he is in Central City, is someone jeopardizing his crown. If he's a good guy now…and I still think he's still playing somebody…he's weak. We'll get him."

She bites her lip, but doesn't even try to argue.

"Sure, Sammy. Whatever you say."

In another time and place, perhaps, the molecular decelerator/cryoengine gadget Cisco improvises might not have worked. (Although, in that other time and place, there just might have been another way to achieve the same effect…)

Here and now, though, it does. It works. The glass frosts over. The speedster steps out. Leonard glares at Cisco until he hastily dissembles the device and puts the cold gun back together to its owner's specifications.

It's too late to stop the robbery at Municipal, though, and they gather around the monitors to plot their next move, finalizing the plan begun back when the Mirror Master first set foot in Central City.

"We're going to use mirrors," Barry tells the group. "An old trick. And..."

"I'm right here, Allen."

"I know you are, Snart."

Scudder is cocky, now. There's been no sign of Snart, the Flash has been neutralized, and, no one else, he thinks, will be able to sneak up on them on their own territory. Their old lair in Broome Industries seems safe enough.

They're making themselves comfortable—quite comfortable—when his phone rings.

"Yeah."

"It's Snart," drawls the voice on the other end. "I heard you were back in town..."

The old amusement park isn't so far from Broome Industries, really. And the warehouse right next to it, now used to hold random bits and pieces, the detritus of obsolete rides and attractions that had lost their allure, is a convenient place for a meeting.

Scudder is expecting an ambush or some sort of trick when they walk in. He doesn't expect to see Leonard Snart standing right at the other end of the room...or at least his reflection, shimmering in the surface of a discard from a long-dismantled House of Mirrors.

"Scudder," he drawls. "Rosa. Long time."

"Not long enough." Scudder's eyes flick to the woman in white who's also in the reflection, whose hand is on Snart's arm in what is unmistakably a very familiar and possessive gesture. "Well, well. So you do know each other."

Snart smirks. The White Canary rolls her eyes. Scudder shakes his head. "Blondie, someone like you could go far. Whadda you want with this frigid bastard? He'll double cross you soon as look at you. And he's probably got ice water where other men have blood...nice, hot blood."

Rosa scowls at him, but he's not looking at her. Snart rolls his eyes now, but the White Canary smiles-and it's a cold, cold smile.

"Think I'm fine where I am, thanks," she tells him. And, yes, that drawl sounds quite familiar.

"Suit yourself." He takes one step forward. Then another. "This might be more fun than I thought."

Snart and the woman exchange a glance...and then vanish to either side of the mirror. Scudder shakes his head.

"Hang back," he tells Rosa. "This guy owes me." He raises his voice. "So, you called us. The hell you want?"

A flicker in another mirror, a reflection, a blue parka and a matte silver gun.

"I want you two out of my city," Snart's voice drawls. "Or locked up. Not too picky about it, really."

Scudder moves along, tracking the voice and the images. "Things have changed," he says. "What, no bullet in my brain this time?"

Another flash of blue to the other side. "Not my style these days. Besides, I'd rather you live with the knowledge that we beat you."

"Not your style? We? My, my, you are getting soft. Things have changed." Scudder saunters into the next room, confident in the glimpse of his foe. "This is our town now. And that little cold gun of yours isn't going to save you from me."

A chuckle...and there's Snart, standing right in front of him at the other end of the room. "That right?"

Scudder moves toward a nearby mirror. "Or your little birdy, either. Want to hear what I'm going to do to her? You know, think I'll keep you alive, just to watch."

"Wow," the dry voice tells him, sounding unimpressed. "You don't know me. And you really don't know the Canary."

"Enough of this!" Scudder shakes his head, plunges into the mirror, and out, right behind Snart, reaching out to grab...

Nothing.

The image...and that's all it is, an image...whirls, cold gun pointed at him.

"Bang," a voice drawls. Scudder blinks.

"Funny thing about holograms..." Barry Allen's voice echoes from behind him.

"...they're just pale reflections of the real deal," Leonard Snart's voice finishes. "Can we finish this? He's pissing me off."

There's an old wheel from some long-closed midway game in the warehouse, and Rosa Dillon spins it idly as she waits, keeping an ear out for chaos in the other room.

"Hey there."

Rosa turns slowly in a circle, seeking out the source of the voice. "White Canary. You really are here with Snart, aren't you? Well, well...I tried to tell Sam." She twirls a piece of hair around a finger. "It would have been fun, really...I mean, Snart ruined our lives, you know. Would have been nice to ruin his, take out his pretty little girlfriend."

A snort. "And what makes you think you could do that?"

"Everyone dies, little bird." Rosa turns around suddenly, eyes flashing green. No Canary. She signs, turns back to the wheel.

Sara Lance, right in front of her, smiles and shrugs. "True," she notes, and drives her fist into Rosa's jaw.

The Top hits the ground bonelessly. Sara waits a moment, then reaches out and pokes her with a toe.

"But you have no idea," she tells the other woman with a sigh, "how ironic that statement is with us."

"A hologram?" Scudder's face is brick red. Watching from nearby, Leonard wonders idly if the other man just might have a heart attack and save them the trouble.

"Oh, the real things's here, too," he drawls into the handheld voice diffuser Cisco'd given him, a gadget that lets him bounce his voice around the room as he watches the other man wonder which glimpse has been hologram, which has been real. "Try to find me? It's been real amusing so far."

With a growl of frustration, Scudder dives into a mirror, and a red blur suddenly flashes into the scene, weaving in and out between the mirrors. "Uh, Snart? Do you really want to toy with him?" Barry's voice echoes over the sound of breaking glass as he starts smashing mirrors, herding the flickering image of the meta human toward the end of the room

"Why not? Seems to be going well enough so far." He pauses as Scudder stumbles to a stop inside a semicircle of mirrors, watching Barry hastily put the other ones in place. "Gotcha."

Leonard's waiting semi-patiently, listening with amusement as Barry explains the Droste effect, when he notices Sara sauntering in from the other room and relaxes infinitesimally.

"Dillon?" he asks.

"Taking a nap."

"Excellent." He turns back just in time to see Barry cuffing Scudder. It's done, then. All he'd really had to do was play bait. Not much fun. But...wait...

"Hey," he says, raising his voice. "Scudder."

The captured meta turns his head with a scowl, glancing away from Barry to glare at his one-time cohort, now enemy. Snart merely lifts an eyebrow, then glances at Sara by his side.

Sara already knows what he's about as he turns to her with a smirk, and, to be honest, there's a matching smirk on her own face as he pulls her into his arms, dipping her back into a kiss that gets quite heated very quickly. They're both breathing a little heavily when they part, and frankly, he's nearly forgotten about Scudder. Sara's grinning at him and he knows he's grinning back.

"Like you said," he says, raising his voice just a little, speaking as much to Sara as to Scudder, "things have changed." He glances toward the other man. "Still don't get the thing with you and Rosa, though."

The well-dressed criminal is gaping at them, and Barry Allen, next to him, is shaking his head and smiling.

"Right, then," Barry says. "I think you made your point, guys. Showtime's over. Let's get moving, Scudder. Snart, Joe's got Rosa in the other room, so we're clear."

They watch him go, Leonard frowning at Scudder as the other man tries to look back over his shoulder, still seeming stunned.

" 'Frigid bastard,' " he mutters. "Asshole."

Sara wraps her fingers around his. "Ignore him. You have better things to think about these days."

"Indeed I do." He squeezes her hand back. "Indeed...I do."