Title: They came as gods out of a dream
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Yusef Komunyakaa
Warnings: AU during season 3 of The Flash; post-season 2 of Legends of Tomorrow; eventual dubious consent; mindgames / possible gaslighting; secret identity; references to torture/death/violence
Pairings: um. Technically Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, but also Barry Allen/Barry Allen, Iris West/Barry Allen, Leonard Snart/Mick Rory
Rating: PG?
Wordcount: WIP
Point of view: second & third
Note: Dude, the writer in me was so annoyed at how Savitar's storyline played out. So this happened.
Another note: though Arrow characters and Supergirl characters are eventually going to show up, the only part of the DC TV verse I've watched in its entirety is The Flash. I've seen the first season of Arrow as well as the Barry Allen episodes; the pilot and last two episodes season 1 of Legends of Tomorrow; and the crossover episodes with Barry Allen of Supergirl. It's very probable that characters from those shows (except hopefully Mick&Len) will be somewhat out of character, and it's unavoidable. Keep that in mind.
Still another note: ALSO TO KEEP IN MIND: while I wouldn't classify this story as dark, per se, it is going to be an utter mindfuck for one of the characters, and I honestly do not think there'll be a happy ending.
You see, here's the thing.
Let's say time is a web, a spider's web stretching across the cosmos. The little flies caught in it don't feel when the strings tremble, except the strand holding them. But the spider, oh the spider.
You trap someone in the middle of time. In the midst of all the power in the multiverse. You create someone purely to die and when they don't you punish them for it, you ensure they know how little you care, how much you'd have preferred them serving their purpose instead of being this reminder of a horrible mistake.
You trap them at the center of the web like they're some tiny little fly.
You should've known yourself better, Flash. Should've known you were always the spider.
.
In the middle of the web of time, spread across every thread, what's there to do but plan? Every jail can be escaped.
You just need the right thief.
And oh, look. There's one falling through time, shattering to pieces, and you laugh as you catch him, because you remember this, you remember him saying no strings on me like it meant something, but it didn't then.
You laugh and wrap him in the threads of time, thrumming a lullaby through him because the Speedforce is just Time made manifest, and it knows Leonard Snart just as it's always known you.
.
You see, here's the thing.
You're not the man who locked away a crazed time remnant, and you're not the man who was the crazed time remnant, but you're both. You're the jailer and the jailed and the jail surrounding you, you're the fly that's caught and the spider who did the catching and the web itself, and now you have a genius thief Time itself knows, and there's nothing to do but settle into the shards you've lovingly pieced together.
Time wants to happen.
The past, the present, the future—they're concurrent. Time is a web that always exists, the past and the present and the future are exactly the same, and the little flies live out their lives and they die and return to the web, and the little flies do not know they're little flies in a web.
It pisses Time off when the little flies try to become the spider.
(Just look at what happened to the Time Masters.)
there are no strings on me, Leonard Snart says, and Time itself explodes, free again at last always, and Leonard Snart shatters.
lisa one piece whispers, and another mick, and you cradle him close in the center of the web, because it takes time to heal and Time is something you have plenty of.
.
You told yourself how you created yourself, and you spent months trying to avoid it, years trying to hide from it, but Time is Time is Time.
Here, in the center of the web, where you'll always end up and where you'll always be and where you've always been, you understand how you went so crazy, how you were so broken.
Time wants to happen, but when you're the spider you see all the strands.
.
well, isn't this interesting, Time muses.
Time asks, can you get us out of this cage?
Scoffing, Time tells Time, of course I can.
.
You create yourself.
.
You consume yourself.
.
now what? Time asks Time.
anywhere anywhen, Time answers Time.
Time laughs and sketches a mocking bow. after you, Scarlet.
Time scoffs, well, aren't you the gentleman, Cold.
The web trembles and shudders, reverberating, and in tandem, threading together, entwined completely, the two halves of Time step out of the stream.
(There is nothing gentle about Time.)
…
Humans need timeships or a connection with the Speedforce to travel through the stream, to jump from one thread of the web to another thread. Whatever change they attempt creates another strand; sometimes, they even think they succeed.
The Speedforce is just another manifestation of Time, and if it had eyes, it would roll them as Time slips into physical manifestations and strides across the strands.
…
Anywhere anywhen. They dance throughout time, throughout worlds, leaving monuments and whispers, stories and legends, religions and cults. Sometimes, for eternities, they return to the center of the web: to rest, to share memories of when they were only men, to watch the lives of those they once loved.
For entertainment, Time plots. For entertainment, Time returns to the strands.
Time is in the stream, Time is out of the stream, Time is the stream.
…
You saw what you'll become, what you've been.
Time is Time is Time.
Time wants to happen.
.
now? Time asks Time.
Time answers Time, now.
.
It isn't a game but it is, a pretense, playing the part you've already seen, and you've done it before and you'll do it again.
You've left myths and a name to claim, a name you learned from yourself, and you lunge into the timeline because this is when where how you create yourself.
have fun, Time tells Time.
You look at yourself, so young, so free. You locked yourself away—again and again and again, because Time is just one enormous web, everything connected, always beginning and always ending, eating itself endlessly.
This isn't a game.
You smile, adding terrible scars to your manifestation's flesh because you remember that you had them, and Time tells Time, i have such a fun idea.
.
Infinite worlds, infinite Time. Everywhen, everywhere. Slip in, slip out, slip in, slip out—Time woven and rewoven because Time wills it.
Savitar is the God of Motion, the fastest speedster the Speedforce will ever make. The first and the last. The only.
Out of all the speedsters Savitar could challenge, why does he choose Barry Allen?
You're a bit embarrassed by this child you were, that it takes him so long to understand.
It isn't a game you're playing with him, with this world, except that it is.
You call yourself a god, but you're not.
You're more than a god.
careful there, Scarlet, Time tells Time, in that mocking drawl. don't get too prideful now.
Time snorts. like you can talk.
.
You look so very young, and fragile, and lost, this child you, this arrogant you, this you that you haven't been in so very long.
Were, are, will be. Will have been.
You play, taunting, goading, poking and prodding, dancing in and out of the timeline, impossible manifested, Time incarnate, the most primal force.
You are outside of it all, immovable yet always moving, and though the Speedforce complains that you're taking its favorite toys, you ignore it because it is you, a piece of you, and everything you are it is.
.
i'm taking this life, Time tells Time. stepping back into the stream until lisa and mick die.
Time nods. i remember a thousand ways this played out before, will play out again, Time tells Time. but there's one i haven't seen.
Time laughs. if it's entertaining enough, call me in.
…
When Leonard Snart shattered, pieces of him clung to memories: the woman he lived for and the man he died for.
Time incarnate slips back into Leonard Snart's skin, slips back into the mind that chose to die instead of allowing Mick Rory to die (and how odd—there isn't a single strand where Mick Rory destroyed the Oculus, where anyone but Leonard Snart obliterated the one tool ever built to control Time—or not odd at all, because Time creates Time), and chooses how to play this.
There was no body. No true understanding of the Oculus' capabilities, of the consequences of a time explosion.
Time (though perhaps Time should begin using the mortal name again) chooses a location and a moment, and Firestorm, while returning to the Waverider after successfully dealing with a time aberration, stumbles across Leonard Snart prone on the ground.
Unconscious, bruised, strange blue markings from the tips of his fingers to his elbows.
Gray? Jax says. You're seein' this, right?
I am indeed, Jefferson, Martin answers.
It's only been a few weeks since Snart was returned to his proper time, memories erased, and it's not like they can leave him here on the ground in 2356, so they grab him and hurry back to the ship, hoping Gideon will have an explanation.
…
Partially, you wear Savitar's rage and grief and pain because it hurts this younger you, because you remember how they treated you when you were just a time remnant, just an almost-was, a shouldn't-have-been, a wound that scarred over long ago, but being here, seeing them brings it all back, and it's fun to say these things you once heard shouted at you, that you didn't understand.
Mostly, you wear Savitar because this has already happened, will happen, will always be happening.
Except, of course, this go-around, on this Earth, you shuffle the deck and deal a new hand, and it's exhilarating because you haven't seen this before so you're not quite sure how it will go.
.
In four other worlds, Barry Allen's team discover Savitar's 'true' identity and try shorting out his long-term memory; it only works as intended once, though it does cause that Barry Allen to suffer a mental breakdown after Savitar's armor is removed.
Here, in this world Savitar's chosen, you introduce yourself while this younger you with no memory is wandering around S.T.A.R. labs in wonder, while everyone is scrambling for some way to fix this. (You know they wouldn't have left him alone, but Wally was easily distracted and any you is clever enough to steal away. Any you is clever enough to steal yourself.)
"Hey," you hiss. "Barty, we gotta go before they realize I busted out of the cell."
"Cell?" the younger you echoes, turning. The boy's eyes widen. "Shit, what happened to you?"
You stifle your victorious grin. "C'mon, Barty," you demand, reaching out to grab his wrist. A spark shoots up your arm and he flinches in shock, but he doesn't pull away as you begin dragging him toward the exit.
"Who are you?" he whispers while you guide him along the maze of corridors.
"I'm your twin, you idiot," you mutter back. You swallow a laugh before claiming, "It's me, Leo. What did those fuckers do to you, Barty?"
You hear Time chuckling, from where your other half is playing another game.
"Leo?" Barty (because you might as well get used to calling this younger, blank slate you something) repeats curiously. "Those people told me my name is Barry and didn't mention anything about you."
You glare at him. "Barty, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
And then you're outside and no alarm has been raised. "No, look," you say when Barty goes to talk. "We can argue when we're somewhere safe, okay."
He's so young, so naïve, so damned trusting. You want to break him, but you're going to do something better: you're going to make him yours, this little boy who has no idea how immense his potential is. Here, now, in this moment, you choose to keep him.
you'll need to remember to feed him and walk him, Time drawls, but you ignore it in favor of grabbing Barty's hand. "C'mon," you say, and dragging him with you, you run.
.
It takes all of five minutes for you to convince Barty that you were both captured for nefarious experiments four years ago, because of abilities you inherited from your mother, and that both she and your father were murdered by the same organization. Barty, you tell him, was a forensic scientist who avoided using his abilities whenever possible because they frightened him; you, on the other hand, embraced them and perhaps used them for less-than-legal activities.
He's such a trusting little thing. You can hardly believe he's who you were.
"What's your full name?" he asks. "Who were our parents?"
"Dad was Henry," you say. "A surgeon. Mom was Nora, and she was a professor." You smile at him, watching the way his eyes trace over the scars on your face. "I'm Leonard Norman—they named you for Dad and me for Mom."
"Did they do that to you?" he asks next, eyes still on the scars. "The, those guys who captured us?"
"Yeah." You nod. "Your healing is better than mine, Barty."
Oh, and now there's guilt written all over him. Delicious. "What can we do?" he says. "Our powers, I mean."
"Superspeed," you say, heading to the kitchen. You're using one of Leonard Snart's safehouses and you fully stocked the kitchen before going to catch Barty. "We can phase through things, too, when we move fast enough." You laugh. "And run on water."
You glance back and smile at the befuddled look on his face. "We also heal faster than normal people," you add, just because guilt looks so good on him. "I'm gonna make spaghetti," you say. "Go shower, Barty. You'll feel better after."
He should be suspicious, should wonder about this safehouse, about how easy it was to escape the labs, about a dozen other things. But he doesn't. He just nods and shuffles off to find the bathroom.
So you start prepping for spaghetti. It'll be the first meal you've eaten since you (were shoved) (walked into) the Speedforce.
You grin at Killer Frost as she saunters in. "What are you doing?" she asks.
Your grin widens. "Changing the game."
…
When Len leaves the Waverider, Mick goes with him. None of the Legends have been able to meet his eyes for long, even after he's proven beyond doubt he is the Leonard Snart who stayed behind at the Oculus. Gideon's been watching his every move, ordered to act if he makes a single mistake.
But Mick—Mick who kept him safe as a teenager, as a man, who followed his lead and guided him in turn, who helped raise Lisa, who could've killed him so many times but saved him instead.
Mick who shouldn't trust him anymore but does.
"I'm going home," Len tells this team that was once his for a short while. He keeps his gaze on Mick.
Mick nods and when the Waverider lands in 2017, Mick follows Len off the ship.
…
"Something doesn't feel right," Sara murmurs, watching them go, but she doesn't call them back because there's work to do. Because if something does go wrong, well, they have a timeship. And because she's never been afraid of Snart before, even mourned him when he died, kissed him goodbye, but the Snart that awoke in the infirmary, the Snart whose eyes were too blue, whose eyes actually glowed when he first opened them, the Snart who looked at Mick like Mick was a possession and at everyone else like they mattered less than dirt on the bottom of his shoe—
No, before the Vanishing Point, Sara never feared Snart. But the Snart that Stein and Jax carried onto the Waverider, the Snart leading Mick away, something about him chills her in her bones.
She really hopes there's no need to fix whatever this Snart is going to do.
…
Lisa, little sister, trainwreck, gold and glitter, mine mine mine was the last thought Leonard Snart had as a man.
He finds her in Las Vegas, about to rob a casino, in a haze of grief and fury, because Mick told her three days ago that Lenny was dead.
"Lenny?" she whispers, hesitantly reaching out.
Blue markings gleam on his arms beneath the shirt, and Lisa slowly traces along one of them. "Lenny?" she says again.
"Yeah, sis," he answers, and she sobs as she throws herself against him.
Leonard Snart didn't like touch all that much. He didn't show affection physically, he did it with actions. But he hugs Lisa now, as tight as Time cradled him, and Time tells Time these humans are mine.
Time tells Time keep them. Time then laughs if you wanna have some fun, the game's on here.
…
Barty pulls on boxers, sweatpants, a loose white shirt, and slowly works his way back to the kitchen. Leo is there, and a woman with white hair and blue skin. Barty blinks at her and she raises an eyebrow at him.
"Frost is the one who helped me escape in the first place," Leo says as he gets three plates out of the cabinet. "Frost, you remember my brother Barty."
"Of course," Frost says, her voice echoing in both a cool and creepy way.
"C'mon, Barty, get some spaghetti." Leo holds out one of the plates. "We've gotta eat a lot because of our speed."
He edges his way around Frost, who keeps looking at him like he's a specimen for dissection. "Do, do you have powers, too?" he asks.
She smiles. "Yes." She turns her hand so that the palm is up and an icicle grows.
"That is awesome!" Barty says, reaching out to touch the ice before jerking his hand back as Frost tilts her head.
Leo laughs; Barty sheepishly goes over to take the plate and serve himself the first meal he can ever remember eating.
.
Frost goes to bed not long after dinner, but Leo and Barty stay at the table so that Leo can tell Barty more about their lives. His gaze keeps returning to the scars on Leo's face. It's like half his face was burned away and Barty knows his own face should be burned, too, but Leo just scoffs, "So what if your healing is better, little brother? I'm so much faster than you it's not fair."
Barty scoffs now. "Yeah, right."
"I'd challenge you to a race if Ramon didn't have a way to track it." Leo smirks at him across the table.
"Ramon?" Barty repeats. "He was one of the people there, who erased my memory."
"Yeah," Leo says. "Cisco Ramon, Julian Albert, Iris West, and her dad Joe and brother Wally." He's angry, Barty can practically feel it on the air. "Iris pretended she loved you, fuck, the two of you dated for months, and once we all trusted her, she struck."
"That's why she had pictures of me on her phone," Barty realizes. For some reason, thinking that pretty woman betrayed him feels wrong, but Leo rubs at his forehead, wincing, so Barty says, "Leo, we both escaped today, right? How about you go shower and then get some rest. I'll clean up down here."
"That sounds pretty good," Leo admits. "But Barty, promise me you won't go outside. Frost wired this house to hide us, so we're safe as long as we're inside, okay?"
Barty nods. "I promise, Leo. Go take care of yourself."
Leo pushes his chair back, stands, and as he walks past Barty, he gently squeezes Barty's shoulder. "We're both free," he murmurs, Barty looking up to meet his gaze. "We're gonna stay that way, I swear."
And then he's gone and Barty's alone on the first floor of a house he's never been in. He clears off the table, loads the dishwasher, wipes down the counters. There are no leftovers; Leo hadn't been wrong about their appetites. He explores the downstairs but there's nothing personal, not even movies in the cabinet below the TV, no books or magazines. He heads upstairs to choose a room because the day (what he can remember of it) is finally catching up to him.
He wakes up at some point, terrified of being alone. Then the bedroom door creaks open and Barty turns his head to watch Leo slip into the room.
"You okay?" he asks quietly.
"I…" Leo sighs. "I can't sleep alone, not now that I'm not in that cage."
Barty scoots over. "C'mon in." He knows that he doesn't like sleeping alone either.
Once Leo's settled, Barty whispers, "Can you tell me something about Mom and Dad?"
"We used to watch musicals with Mom," Leo tells him, shuffling a little closer. "Every Saturday, Dad would take us the park, so that we see if our newest gadget would work right. You wanted to be a teacher for awhile, so Mom took you to some of her summer classes. You devoured Dad's medical journals and he'd quiz you on them." Leo's voice is right beside Barty's ear, his breath warm on Barty's skin. "They loved you so much, Barty," Leo says.
"What about you?" Barty asks.
Leo huffs a small laugh. "Me, too," he says, "but I wasn't a good kid like you."
It's easier to sleep with Leo next to him, and he wakes up to sunlight streaming between the curtains while Leo's still out of it. His eyes are drawn to the scars on the right half of his brother's face, horrible evidence that Barty must've done something wrong to let him get hurt that badly.
"It wasn't your fault," Leo murmurs, opening his eyes. The right eye is milky, damaged, but the left eye is fierce, determined.
Something flickers in the back of Barty's mind, an idea he'll have to consider later, but for now he just asks, "Wasn't it?"
…
"Back to Central City, Lenny?" Lisa drawls. "How aren't you tired of that place?" She hasn't stepped more than a foot away from him since Mick brought him home, and Mick's staying just as close, and before whatever happened that convinced Mick he was dead, Len would've lashed out at them for being so close. Ever since she grew up, Len's guarded his space fiercely, but now, now he's letting them stay.
It doesn't matter where Len goes now, she'll follow him.
He laughs and smirks and drawls in return, "Central City is mine, sis."
"What's the plan, Snart?" Mick asks, and it's soothing, that rumble of his, because just like Len, Mick's always kept Lisa safe.
Len's smirk widens, and the blue marks on his arms, that look partially like scars and partially like energy, flare, and so do his eyes. "Are you mine, Mick?" he purrs, stepping closer and then closer, gaze flicking to Lisa. "Are you mine, little sister?"
Lisa wants to ask what happened to him, why Mick thought he'd died, how Mick could've told her only three days ago when it's obviously been longer than that he'd still been alive.
But it's such a simple question.
"Yeah," Mick answers.
Len's been the one constant in Lisa's life since before she can remember; he protected her and took care of her and taught her and loved her, and when she decided to explore the world, he let her go but always welcomed her back, and always came when she called whether for fun or for help.
"Yes, Lenny, of course," she says. "Just like you're mine."
He reaches out with both hands, taking one of hers and one of Mick's, and the blue flares for just a moment, blindingly bright, and once she's blinked away the spots, Len's backed away, still smirking, and even though Lisa's beyond confused, even though she's worried and even a little frightened, even though Len is idifferent/i—well, he's still Len. Still her jerk of a big brother who has always kept her safe, always given her everything he could.
"The plan is simple," he says, "but I'll tell you on the plane."
Lisa has to laugh. "Are we stealing a plane, Lenny?"
"And a pilot," Len confirms.
Lisa, taught by Lenny, always travels light; she's packed and ready to go in two minutes. Her crew, haphazardly hired, don't stick around to complain once Mick turns a glare on them, fingers caressing that heat gun of his. She catches his eye as they both follow Len, and she sees her own worry and apprehension reflected back at her.
But Len is alive, and he's come back to them, and that's all that matters.
…
"What do you mean, you lost BA?!" HR shouts, but he's clearly the last one to reach Wally because the kid's already droopy. So instead, he turns to Julian and Cisco, whose fingers are flying across the keyboards and who are talking over each other about this tech thing and that tech thing, so HR decides to not bother them. Joe's on the phone, the conversation clearly not going well, and Iris is pacing, chewing on her fingernails.
"Oh, shit," Cisco says, just as HR was on the verge of going back to Tracy.
"Cisco?" Iris hurries over. "What is it?"
Julian leans in to look at the screen and mutters, "Bloody hell."
"Um, I'll put the footage on the big screen," Cisco says, and so HR turns with everyone else to watch—
BA, walking along one of the halls, gazing about with awe, giddiness. Cisco fast-forwards a little ways, and then BA looks just off camera. The angle swings around and HR gasps because there's another BA, but one with a fucked up face, who reaches out to grab BA's wrist.
Everyone watches in silence as the two hurry through the halls, and then they're both gone in a flash of lightning.
"Any chance of audio?" Joe asks.
Cisco shakes his head. "Savitar—that's gotta be Savitar, right?—must've messed with it somehow." He snorts. "Since he's a future Barry, he knows how."
"Play it again," Iris says, voice thick. She cuts off Joe's, "Baby," to repeat, "Play it again, Cisco."
So, they watch it again. Then HR asks, "Anyone able to read lips?"
.
To be fair, HR admits, some of the words everyone does agree on. Hey, for example is easy, and so is we gotta go. And fuckers. The rest of it, not so much.
It is awesome, though, when Tracy finally steps in and, after being brought up to speed, watches the minute of footage, and then recites, "So, the scarred one says, 'Hey, Barry, though possibly Bart? We gotta go something something I broke? Busted? Out of the cell.' And then ours says, 'Cell, shit what happened to you.' Okay, this next bit isn't clear enough to read either of their lips, but here," and she jabs at the screen, "the scarred one clearly says, 'I'm your twin,' and then he turns away, the angle's not good enough to see the rest. But then here," and Tracy jabs at the screen again, "ours says, 'Leo something my name is Barry something mention you'."
"Twin!" Iris shouts, causing HR and Tracy to both flinch. She's glaring at the screen.
Tracy glances at HR so he smiles and nods encouragingly. "And then, um," she says, "the scarred one asks, 'Barty or Barry, but probably not Barry, since he just said—" Tracy takes a deep breath. "The scarred one," she starts over, "demands, 'what the fuck is wrong with you.'"
"Okay, so to recap," HR says brightly as he briskly paces across the middle of the room. "Wally let BA wander around alone, and Savitar—who is, everyone remembers, evil BA from the future—has kidnapped him, though is it really kidnapping?" He pauses. "Hmm. Anyway, Savitar has seemingly convinced BA that they're twin brothers and were being held here against their will, so at some point in the very near future, we will be fighting at least two speedsters and probably an angry ice maiden, but we actually want to help and not hurt two of the three." He stops and turns on his heel to smile at everyone. "That sum it up?"
"Yeah," Joe says faintly. "I think that sums it up."
…
"But, seriously," Cisco says as he picks at the pizza Joe got for them. "Why disable the audio but not the whole thing? Why does he want to kill Iris? Why did he give all the metas their power?"
"Maybe he's only pretending to be future Barry," HR suggests. Cisco looks over and watches HR poke at the pizza. "It's better with crawfish sauce," he mutters.
Well, that sounds disgusting.
"Barry seemed convinced," Wally says. He's still withdrawn; it's the first thing he's said since the lip reading fiasco. As soon as he gets the chance, Cisco is going to apologize because it's not Wally's fault Savitar took Barry.
No, that's all on Cisco.
It's terrifying to think that Savitar is a future Barry. What could possibly turn him into that? It's even worse than Cisco becoming Reverb or Caitlin Killer Frost. And Savitar tricking Barry into thinking they're brothers? That makes it so much easier to pour all the anger he still has buried inside, leftover from Flashpoint and Barry remaking the world as he wanted, killing Dante in the process—Savitar claiming to be Barry's brother means Cisco can hate him.
"Well, we won't be able to make any headway tonight," Joe declares. "So let's get some rest and come back in the morning."
"I don't want to go to the apartment," Iris says. "Or the house." She's got her arms wrapped around herself and Joe steps over to hold her.
"Well, there is a lot of space here," HR says.
"Sounds good to me," Cisco admits. "I don't want to go home, either." This seems like a very bad time to be alone, because when you're alone there's no distractions from what goes through your mind, and Cisco really really can't be alone with his thoughts tonight. Or tomorrow. Or at any point until Savitar is locked away in the speedforce prison.
Wally takes a deep breath and bursts out, "I'm going patrol Central City tonight. See if I can find Barry."
He's gone before anyone can get out his name.
"Damnit," Joe mutters.
"I'll monitor him," Cisco volunteers.
It's no surprise at all that Joe and Iris stay in the Cortex with him while HR and Tracy disappear into the bowels of the labs and Julian goes home. "You're more than welcome to stay," Cisco had told him, but Julian had just smiled and shook his head, muttering, "Thanks, mate," before shrugging on his jacket and trudging away.
"This isn't your fault, Cisco," Iris says, leaning in to briefly hug him. "We all agreed to try the procedure."
"Thanks, Iris," he mutters, eyes focused on Wally's vitals. She sighs as she settles into the chair beside him. Joe starts pacing around, which doesn't help Cisco's nerves in the least but he keeps quiet. They all keep quiet, just sitting there in silence so thick with tension it feels like it's crawling into Cisco's throat.
He still doesn't say a thing.
…
You watch him sleep, this you that you never were yet still are, and you look to the parallel strands—they have not yet caught up. Will not catch up but have already caught up, stretching on and on and on—and the spider in the center plucks at one, severs another, dances across the web.
He stirs, stretching and yawning, and then rolls off the bed, and you are startled into laughter. You lean over the edge, still laughing, and Barty starts laughing, too.
How long has it been since you felt genuine amusement? Perhaps not since you were Barry Allen.
"Leo?" Barty asks. "You okay?"
You blink, falling back into your skin-shape. "I'm fine," you finally say. "Just… we slept in a soft bed, not alone, and woke when we felt like it, not because someone wanted to hurt us just to see how we'd react."
Barty nods, shifting so that he's on his knees and then he reaches to take your hand. "I wish I could remember, Leo," he tells you softly, so sincerely. "It isn't fair that you're the only one hurting like this."
You smile. "I'd rather bear it than have you bear it," you say.
By the sadness on his face and the ferocity in his eyes, you know that the only way the betrayers and shunners that were your family lifetimes ago will be able to steal him back is if they somehow shove the memories into his head—
And you won't let them. You'll tear them apart before this boy you've made your brother, this you so innocent, so pure, so untouched and unlearned, is turned back into the Barry Allen that birthed a time remnant whose only purpose was to die.
"Let's get breakfast," you say. "I'll teach you how to make pancakes."
He brightens and lets go of your hand.
.
Frost sits at the counter and smirks as Barty makes a mess of the kitchen. She bites out comment after comment, but once Barty sees how you react, his fear melts into annoyance.
She has her orders. Even though Barty's death won't harm you in any way, he's to be protected.
This younger you is yours, just like Time (Cold, Len, half of you), just like Frost, just like those two humans your other half is bringing home.
In the center of the web, everything was yours but you couldn't truly touch anything but the threads, were apart not a part. But here, as Savitar, you are a god, better than a god, and this life, this world, this moment—
"These are amazing!" Barty says after the first bite of pancake. He drowns a stack of four in syrup and devours them while Frost watches in mild disgust.
You're going to break this boy and reforge him, and it will be glorious.
…
Once they're on the plane (borrowed from a CEO who won't miss it, and a pilot who'll never tell anyone), Len just stares at the two people who were all that mattered to the man he was. It isn't long until Lisa and Mick are sharing glances as the silence stretches.
"Lenny?" Lisa finally says. "You were gonna tell us the plan."
Len nods. "I was, wasn't I." He leans back in his seat, slouching comfortably. Both of them shift as well, like they're settling in, which provides Len with an odd sense of contentment. The marks on his arms, scars from where Time had pieced together the shards of Leonard Snart, glow slightly, shifting into new patterns. He hums a short note, something a human cannot hear and the human mind cannot comprehend, and the strands appear, letting him study all possible outcomes. A few are displeasing, more are adequate, but none are quite what he wants, so he'll just have veer off onto a new strand. He blinks away the strands to focus on his humans.
"We're going back to Central City," he announces, "to take it over with the help of Savitar."
"Savitar?" Lisa echoes. "Who's that?"
"The God of Motion," Len says nonchalantly. His lips curl at the way Lisa and Mick glance at each other, confused and apprehensive.
"You mean a meta?" Mick asks.
Len shrugs. "He was, in the beginning. Now he's something much more."
They want to ask more questions, want all the information Len has, and though he loves them (is it love? not like when he was a man, but he remembers how that felt, how needing to keep Lisa safe consumed him, how he rewrote hundreds of plans to keep Mick safe, how his first instinct every time was to kill any perceived threat to either of them. he still feels that but… love was warm, wasn't it? what he feels now, watching them watch him, seeing his mark cycle through their veins, spreading to every part of their fragile, breakable bodies, it isn't warm, isn't soothing, doesn't hold him back at the worry of what they might think, of what it would mean to go too far. there is no going too far), there are some things no one but Time needs to know. No one but Time can understand.
"We're going to take Central City," Len repeats. "And possibly the world." He shrugs again. "Savitar's playing a game, getting a little revenge, and once he's done with that, we'll decide where to go from there."
"Sounds good, buddy," Mick finally says and Lisa nods, pasting a smile on her face. They're both so confused, so apprehensive, and he wants to wrap around them, to blanket them in comfort and peace, like he was when Time began gathering up all the shards Leonard Snart.
But he can't. To do that would destroy them, would devour what makes them Mick and Lisa, so instead he lies. Spins a pretty story about what happened after the explosion, about how he woke up where Firestorm found him, about what he thinks the blue streaks on his skin mean.
Before the Oculus, Lisa and Mick could usually tell when he lied, unless he exerted quite a bit of effort. But now?
Now only one being knows, and Time is quietly, contentedly purring in the back of Len's mind.
…
Wally spends all night running around Central City. It's a quiet night; just one mugging and one car crash, so he can't escape how his mind keeps turning over every single second since he decided to look at his phone, that text about study groups, and when he looked up, Barry was gone. He'd sighed, rolled his eyes, replied to the text, pocketed his phone, and then went to look for Barry. Cisco, Iris, Dad, and Julian had still been arguing in the medbay, and HR and Tracy were (presumably) working on the weapon, and he was supposed to be babysitting his sorta-brother (but also his future brother-in-law, which… is really weird, but it's not like he's ever understood Iris and Barry's relationship anyway).
Barry hadn't been in the first hall, or the second, and by then, Wally actually started getting worried. So he ran throughout the entire complex but Barry was gone.
He returned to the cortex a little shamefully and a little worried, but he still hadn't realized the magnitude of what Barry being gone could mean. None of them, he's fairly sure, had, not until Cisco found the footage of Savitar tricking Barry.
Collapsing on his bed, after sneaking into the house, already planning on skipping class, Wally buries his face in his pillow and wishes, for the first time, that Savitar hadn't given him his speed because he can't outrun all of the worst-case-scenarios.
Nothing has made sense since Mom died, since he'd been forcefully included in this family unit that had no room for him, except when he runs faster than he's ever been able to drive, but with Jesse, whenever he and Iris actually feel like siblings, whenever Dad looks at him with pride—
Savitar wants to take it all away, the good and the bad, and Savitar is Barry, and now Savitar has Barry, and he's been playing some fucked up game this whole time, and none of it makes any sense at all.
He manages maybe five minutes of lying there, and then he gets up, puts on his suit, and goes back to looking for Barry. It's his fault Savitar escaped the speedforce, so it's his responsibility to fix this mess.
.
He ignores it when Iris calls, when Dad calls, when HR calls. He's searched the entire city eight times, retracing his own steps, but he doesn't even know what he's looking for. Savitar is Barry, has always been Barry, so he knows every last thing any of them will think to try, and unless Barry catches on that his 'twin brother' is actually a psychopath from the future, Wally won't be able to find them because Barry won't even realize he's a prisoner.
He doesn't notice the ground's been iced over until he slips, and that's about when he realizes he hasn't eaten since a single slice of pizza nearly 15 hours ago, and he should run run run away, go home, he can't do this, he isn't a hero like Barry, isn't brave like Iris or Dad—
"Well, well, if it isn't Baby Flash," Killer Frost says, smirking down at him, and it's too late to run.
…
"He's still not picking up," Iris tells her dad, shoving her phone in her pocket.
"Damnit, Wally," Dad mutters. "I left last night when he was still out."
"Yeah," Iris says. "I fell asleep at some point and you were gone when HR woke me up."
Dad nods a little shame-facedly. "I had to make excuses at the station," he explains, not for the first time.
Iris leans forward to rest her elbows on the dining table. "Wally can't be missing, too," she prays. It's been eating her alive, that the monster Savitar is Barry, that the monster Savitar has taken Barry, that Iris is the one who convinced him to try Cisco's insane idea, so the Barry that Savitar took doesn't even know what he doesn't know.
What lies has Savitar convinced him of? He's been playing them all, wants to kill Iris, has hurt and killed so many people. How could Barry become that? She's tried not to think about it, but her mind has constantly circled back. What happened? Why would a future Barry do all these horrible things?
She wants to believe that it is someone pretending to be Barry, but she can't because of Barry's voice when he told them, arms wrapped around himself, head down. He didn't look up once as they listened in silence.
Barry fully believed Savitar is a future him, and he hated himself for it.
And now, her Barry who doesn't remember is in that monster's hands.
"Cisco!" Dad says, and Iris startles. "Can you track Wally's suit for us?"
Iris stretches her arms, then pushes back her chair. Dad has that look on his face he gets when Cisco goes off on a tangent. It's comforting, familiar. Iris pulls a glass from the cabinet, fills it from the tap, and drains it.
Then Dad's voice rings out: "Say that again, Ramon."
She fumbles the glass, almost drops it. Once it's safely in the sink, she rushes to the dining room.
"Dad, no," she begs, but she looks at his face and she already knows.
…
While Leo showers again, Barty decides to explore the second floor of the house. It's mostly empty: there are five bedrooms and a bathroom, but only three of the bedrooms have any furniture at all, and that just bedframes with mattresses. In the room furthest from the stairs, Barty finds a tablet on the windowsill. He powers it up and tries the wifi. He wants to trust his brother, and even Frost, though she frightens him. But something about this situation, it's wrong.
So he sinks onto the floor by the window and googles his name, his brother's name, his parents' names.
But it's like they've all been scrubbed from the internet. He hacks his way into site after site (because apparently he knows how to hack?), places he knows there should be records. But he can't even find birth certificates, marriage licenses, death certificates. Nothing for him or his brother or his parents.
Leo said they were captured and their parents killed. Four years of experiments, torture—and Barty has no scars, no memories. Leo has them all.
He's been playing it all off. Despite the scars on Leo's face, despite Leo's body language, the way he trails off, how he'd come to Barty's room so neither slept alone. How he's made sure Barty eats, has clothes, bathes. How he rescued them both.
Barty lowers the tablet, hands shaking. He thinks back to his first personal memory, of being in that chair, surrounded by strangers pretending they were friends.
Well. Now he knows what anger feels like.
He powers down the tablet and puts it back exactly like he found it. There's the sound of movement downstairs, though the shower is still going. So Barty gets to his feet and then accidentally lightnings his way to the living room.
Frost raises an eyebrow at him as he careens into the couch. "Hopefully," she says dryly, "it'll be safe to take you somewhere you can practice your speed."
"Hopefully," Barty agrees, sitting up and smiling at her.
She rolls her eyes. "You're even more puppyish than Leo said," she mutters.
"Have they noticed we escaped?" he asks. He tries to hold her gaze but she is so damned intimidating.
"They're keeping it quiet." Suddenly, a plastic bag hits his torso and he fumbles to catch it. "I got you some presents, puppy," Frost says. She almost sounds amused.
Barty watches her stride out before digging into the bag. He finds four magazines, five books, and a large package of M&Ms. He grins, curls up in the corner of the couch, tears into the M&Ms, and grabs the first book.
…
"Wallace West," you murmur as the boy begins to stir. You savor the sounds as you repeat the name. "Wallace West." A hero's name. You're slouched against the wall and he's prone on the floor, metahuman inhibitors on each wrist, but unbound beyond that.
You blink as he groans, seeing for a moment a hundred other Wallace Wests—he could be great, this boy, for 'good' or 'bad,' but this Wally, the one carefully rolling over onto his knees, his fate is to become a shell, all his fire extinguished, shattered by Savitar. Had you not begun a new path, it would still be his fate to be aborted potential.
However. Wasted potential, you've decided (for now), is something you shall attempt to avoid.
"Barry?" he mumbles, shuffling around to look at you. You grin as he corrects, "Not Barry. Shit."
"So," you say. "Let's chat, Wallace."
.
You leave him in the basement by phasing through the wall. Taking your time, you go upstairs step by step. You never get tired of your speed, but there is something satisfying in going the slow way.
Barty is flipping through one of the magazines Killer Frost brought back with West. "I don't think I'd like any of these movies," he says as you settle beside him on the couch.
"You like zombies and musicals," you tell him. "A few times, when they let us be within speaking distance, we plotted out a zombie musical."
He chuckles, leaning into you slightly. He turns the page and you close your eyes, focusing on his breathing. It lulls you almost to sleep.
But then, he lets the magazine fall onto his lap and he asks, "We're gonna get justice, right?"
You smile slowly, viciously.