White walls.

Whoever said a hospital smelled clean and sterile had obviously never spent a great amount of time in one. Not like Mick who'd grown to truly appreciate the strong cocktail of bleaches and cleaners that just barely masked the perforating stench of shit, urine, and death. And let's not forget the sweat from overworked and underpaid staff peppered with the faint aroma of bathroom soap and hand sanitizer from frantic, habitual hand-washing.

The rogue had grown to dislike the smell here immensely. He couldn't even find solace in his own body's musk staining his hospital bed from the countless nights spent there. The bedding was changed daily and every night was spent feeling like he was in a stranger's house.

At least the food was bearable. The patients here were fed well – part of some sort of 'Liberalized diet', Mick had read from the poster on the wall. Something about the lack of any scientific evidence supporting restrictive diets affecting the weight of elder patients – how therapeutic diets contained tasteless foods that could encourage a resident's lack of appetite. Well, fuck, if a juicy steak and baked potato could help toothless old crazies from starving themselves to death in this shithole, Mick wasn't complaining as long as he got a piece of the action. It made being here a little better.

That's another thing that Mick found rather annoying though: the other patients. They were all fucking ancient,and most of them didn't speak a word of English – which made every conversation a revisit of Middle school Spanish class. Alternately, all of them could barley remember their own names from day to day, so their conversations weren't very long anyways. Mick would feel more comfortable if he was surrounded by people in his own age group, but maybe he was too old to hang out with the cool kids anymore. Most of his chemical restraints made him so useless he had to scoot around in a wheel chair anyways. His arms were too week to push himself like a normal damn person – he was stuck shuffling about with his booty-clad feet from one place to another at the speed of drunken snail.

"Esta puerta es bonito … Quiero salir de aquí…"

Mick sighed and turned his head with some difficulty to see his roomate, Florencio Campolly-or-some-shit, tapping on the big flowery door that led to god knows where. Probably to other parts of the hospital with all the traphic going in and out of it. Everyone here wanted to go through that door. It meant chance at freedom – but nobody could stand high enough to get to even get at the keypad lock, and the CNAs never let anyone get close enough to see them put in the code.

Mick didn't bother himself with it – despite how easy it would be for him to crack it. He was too doped off rocker to get far after the fact. Besides: he had another means of escape coming. He was a rogue after all.

"No le parece? Es bonito, senor."

He heaved another sigh, "Si muy bonito, Florence." Mick scoot himself down the hall, away from his forlorn roomy – god he needed to get away from all these damn old crazies. Spend enough time with any of them and you'll start to get their logic – that was the scariest part.

"Mr. Rory?" an overly loud nurse leaned down by his head and spoke as slowly and clearly as she could possibly manage. He frowned and stopped his scooting to glare all the daggers he could muster at her.

She just smiled sweetly and put her hand on his shoulder, "Hiii! How are you doing today?"

"I'm fine. Florencio is trying to escape, you should probably check on him."

She put her hand by her ear and leaned further in – Mick swore under his breath, all the employees here were fuckin deaf, "Florencio is by the door! Don't you want to check on him?"

She glanced down the hall and smirked dismissively,"You have a guest today Mr Rory! Do you want to go see him? It's your friend, Len Snart! Do you remember Len Snart?"

"Of course I fuckin remember Len Snart." he rolled his eyes and lurched forward down the hall. It was about damn time. Mick couldn't remember when last Len came to visit.

Down in the messhall, sure enough, Len sat at a table and flipped through a magazine – his face lit up at the sight of Mick and he came over to assist the pyro, "Hey, how are you doin?"

"Wastin away, you fuck, how long were you gonna make me wait before coming to see me again?" Mick grumbled as he was gently pushed up to the table.

Len's face twitched a bit, but he kept his somewhat amiable expression – which for Len was stern at best, "I came to visit you yesterday, Mick, don't you remember? Mark was there too."

"Mark?" Mick frowned a bit, no, turns out yesterday was a blank for him, "You did? Damn it."

"You were pretty tired, it's okay."

The rogue ran a hand over his bald head, "It's these damn drugs, Len. Can't tell my ears from my ass sometimes. Anyways, what's up?"

"Don't worry about it." Len folded his arms over his chest and leaned on the table, "Just the usual – Mark is spending most of his time at the cafe, Evan's pub is going great – the Packers won the superbowl again last night."

Mick leaned back in his wheelchair and pursed his lips, "You guys still layin low, huh? Is Axel still pretending to go to school?"

Len smirked, "Oh he dropped out again months ago – found himself a real sweet squeeze. He's moving in with her in the next few weeks. You'd be jealous."

"Ugh, he better not go makin no babies. I'm too young to be a grandad."

That got a sincere laugh from the captain and he shook his head, "You and me both."

Mick smirked a bit and they sat in silence a moment before he finally got serious, "So, enough beating around the bush. When are you guys getting me out of here, Len. I'm going fuckin crazy."

Len's countenance grew solemn and he glanced down at his callous hands resting on the table, "Ah… yeah – still working on that. You'll get out of here soon I promise, Mick."

"Well goddamnit, Len, it's been weeks! I'm shitten myself on good days and I'm stuck in this damn chair. I can't smoke, I can't drink, and the company's crap." he leaned forward, "I wanna get out of here and burn something – come on Len… What'd I do to deserve this?"

Len smirked and glanced up at Mick with a hint of amusement.

"Alright don't answer that…."

"Hey at least yer not suckin the radiator for nourishment." The captain offered somewhat jovially.

"Yeah." Mick smirked a bit, "I'm gonna have to go on a diet after spending so much time in this damn chair," The pyro relaxed again, "But please, soon? Come on, Len I can't take it much longer…"

Len's mouth flat-lined and after another heavy, impregnable silence – punctuated by a soft beep singing long and unwavering elsewhere in the hospital, the captain's hand finally reached out and pat Mick's shoulder softly, "I got you buddy, it'll be soon."

Mick woke up to getting his ass scrubbed by some wrinkly old nurse in the shower room. He didn't really remember falling asleep – but he assumed it was the next day. This water was always too damn cold. He wished he'd fuckin stayed sleeping for this part. The bathing ritual was thankfully just about over though, and in a minute he was back in his clothes and was rolled back to his room. Usually about this time is when they'd scrape Florencio off the floor for his turn. But to his relief and slight confusion, the man was already gone. Not only that, but his bed was stripped bare and the curtain surrounding his side of the room had been taken down. Mick looked around for any of Florence's belongings but there wasn't so much as a disguarded sock.

Perhaps he was changing roomates. Or maybe the old fart got to go home. He seemed fine enough yesterday – but an unsettling feeling deep down inside the pyro knew the truth. Everybody's time comes eventually, he supposed. One way or another Florencio finally made it through that big pretty door he'd always go on about.

Sighing softly, the rogue relaxed in his chair and closed his eyes. Len promised he could get out of here soon – that was solace enough to relax his shaking hands. Sure as hell wasn't afraid of dying, but dying here was just about the saddest thought he'd ever dwelled on.

It was bright now somewhere outside his sanctuary of sleep. He heard a quiet voice ebbing on the edge of his consciousness and managed to pry his eyelids open. The familiar sight and smell of hot coffee floated into his field of view and instinctually he reached out to snatch it. Coffee! Godblessed coffee. There was only that shitwater they called tea in this hellhole, coffee was better than a million bucks and a pricy ho right about now.

He sipped from the starbucks cup and raised his brows up at his benefactor. Ah yes.

"You motherfuckers." he grinned. Mark, Hartley along with some other, much older fellow whom Mick could only assume was the musician's new man-squeeze were standing overhead.

"You're very welcome." Hartley returned the smile and pulled up a chair, "That's illegal contraband here. We had to pull a few strings." he jut a finger to the stranger who waved nervously.

Mick hummed and gave Mark a little eyebrow wiggle to acknowledge his presence in liu of being too busy drinking his liquid gold to give a proper greeting.

Finally needing to stop for breath, he relaxed, "Aahhh. He's a bit old for you Hart. No offense."

The ginger blinked and looked up at the tall stranger and held back a laugh, "Mick, that's Albert. Of course you remember Albert!" The apparently-Alchemist looked somewhat indignant.

"Shut the fuck up." he hadn't recognized the taller man at all, "How did you get so old?!" Mick jabbed a finger up at the doctor and the realization hit him, "Ah fuck this isn't starbucks coffee is it."

"Oh please it wasn't that long since you've seen me last. I've barely aged a day. And shush, it's perfectly identical." Albert shot back, "Right down to the brand-name cup. Granted it was a roll of toilet paper until about ten minutes ago."

Mick made a face and sipped again, "I'm drinking toilet paper coffee – great."

"It won't kill you to be a bit more grateful."

"Mm! It might."

Albert pursed his lips and inclined his hand admittedly, "I'd like to think my abilities have matured enough to minimalise the mistake rate to less than 10 percent."

Ah well, Mick shouldn't complain – magic synthesized coffee was better than no coffee at all. And he didn't feel his stomach melting, so all seemed well for now, "You certainly have matured! You belong in this damn place better'n me. Skin's is about ready to melt of your goddamn face. Didn't recognize you worth a damn."

The three of them managed to both parts smile and look sympathetically at the pyro, to this he frowned.

Wait a goddamn minute – this whole conversation – the three of them - this coffee – Albert rocking the grandpa look – it all had the faintest stench of deja vu. He sat quietly a while and glanced between the trio.

"I have a feeling I've said all that before…"

Hartley's face faltered and he stood up suddenly, "Excuse me…"

The pyro was shocked, "I have haven't I?! What the hell- Fuck! I'm sorry…" Mick rubbed his hand down his face, "God damnit…"

After the ginger was gone, Al following reluctantly after, Mark's face grew almost kind and he finally spoke, "Hey it's okay Mick. We know you've been having a really fuckin tough time here."

He sniffed and buried his hands in his lap indignantly, "It's the drugs I swear to god." Mick shook the emotion out of his eyes, and met Mark's gaze levelly,"Len came over yesterday – he says you guys are getting me out of here soon. It's about fucking time. I think my roommate up and died on me this morning. It's a goddamned slaughterhouse in here."

"Len what?" Mark frowned a bit, "Oh right. Yeah…" he stared down at the coffee cup in Mick's lap and pointed, "You done with that? I better get Al to be rid of it before we leave. Don't want to get in trouble."

Mick looked down at the empty cup and handed it back, "Yeah."

"Well." The wizard stood up and brushed himself off, "This was just a short visit. Thought you'd enjoy the coffee, but we better go…"

"Yeah… It was great – Tell Hartley an' Al I appreciated it, yeah?"

"Don't be so down, Mick. He understands." Mark smiled and pat the man's shoulder comfortingly, "Go ahead and read some of the books I left you okay? We'll come back and visit you soon."

Mick's hand shot out to grab his friend's arm before he left, "Hey! How long have I been here, Mark?"

A woman startled as her arm was suddenly grabbed. She was middle-aged, with thick dark brown hair and round eyes, "What?"

The pyro suddenly found himself laying on his back in bed, this person seated beside him, reading some thick poetry volume. One of the books Mark left him he guessed.

She stared down at his hand on her shoulder and then back at him, "Dad?"

Shocked at the exclamation, he quickly retracted his hand and tried to sit up with no luck. His limbs felt heavy and useless due to the iv pumping into his arm, "Who the fuck are you?"

The woman stood up and gently attempted to press Mick back into bed, "Dad, it's me…. Bianca – remember? I'm your little girl." She smiled encouragingly and Mick frowned.

"Lady I think you've got the wrong room."

She shook her head, "No, I don't I'm your daughter, Dad. Don't you remember me? I know it's been a while… But it's really me… I came to visit you. Don't you…. Remember me?"

Fear gripped Mick's heart in a vice. Oh hell no, this chick was crazy. It was another patient, acting delusional, Mick was overcome with disgust – he wasn't about to play along with her games. "Get the FUCK out of my room right now."

"Hey now-"

"GET OUT!" he hollered, finding his strength to sit up, "NURSE! THERE'S A CRAZY BITCH IN MY ROOM!"

"Daddy!" she stood up angrily.

"I aint yer fuckin Daddy! NURSE!"

Len suddenly came in through the door and pulled the woman away, "Alright this was a bad idea."

There were tears in her eyes as she was shoved from his view, "DAD it's ME!"

"Len what the fuck is this?!" he shouted.

The captain was obstructed from his views as a few large CNAs came in to restrict the pyro against the bed, "LEN!"

"I'm right here."

Mick woke up with a start, inhaling sharply through his nose and looking around.

White walls.

He was back in his wheelchair the messhall room once again – surrounded by other patients busying themselves with their lunches. Across the table was Captain Cold, stirring a cup of weak tea in semi-disgust.

Mick felt himself breaking into a cool sweat, "Len- Len listen to me." The pyro blinked rapidly and shakily leaned against the table, "I think I'm sick."

Len looked up from his mug, at attention, as if he was ready to get up "…Do you want me to get a doctor?"

"No, Len – Something's really wrong. Everything's all… messed up. Like, just a few seconds ago there was this woman and she…" he tapped the table with his finger loudly, "And Mark was there – but he wasn't? And, and, there was a conversation but I had it before? I keep blinking and shit changes around, I can't keep track of the goddamn time!" Mick stared wide-eyed at his friend across the table.

The captain's eyes softened and he leaned against the table as well, "You're just fine, Mick."

"I'm not… I think I have a kid, Len." Mick shook his head and rubbed his temples, "A little girl. But she aint so little anymore… but I could have dreamed the whole damn thing for all I know- it feels like it happened five seconds ago!"

"Ah…." Len looked down at the table and took a steady breath, "Look calm down…." he rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted. "Yeah… you do. Bianca. And two sons Carter and David."

"Jesus christ…" Mick sniffed and covered his face in his hands, "Are they full grown too?"

Len nodded silently and took a drink, "Bianca's a teacher, she has kids of her own. David's a firefighter and Carter's going to school to be a Physical Therapist. He's divorced twice."

Mick ran his fingers down his face, eyes wet, "Oh my god… I have… I'm a… What the… What the hell are you talking about Len?"

Len's hand rest on Mick's head and he stared into his eyes sternly, "It's okay…"

"No, it's not fucking okay!… I think I… I think I called her a bitch…" and she was his Daughter? He felt the beginnings of the hiccups boiling in his chest and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. Mick stared at Len a long time and finally broke down into tears. What the fuck was going on.

"I just wanna leave, Len…" he sobbed, "Please get me out of here…"

"Mick…"

"Mick – wake up…!"

It was dark. Who knew what time it was. But it was totally and absolutely pitch black. His eyes were still moist and ached from crying. God only knows for how long. But that voice was unmistakeable.

"Evan?"

A small light flickered near to his face. Mick found himself laying in bed with an unmistakeable gaptoothed grin illuminated in front of him.

"It's time to go."

Mick sat up abruptly and swung his legs off the bed, "It's about fuckin time!"

"Shh! Shh!" Evan placed a hand over the pyro's mouth and glanced around. "We gotta be quiet. Come on now, nice and easy…"

With some assistance, the mirror master aided Mick in standing up. The pyro was so overcome with the excitement of finally being rid of this place, he wasn't about to let any chemical restraints stop him now.

Together they slowly made it out of the room and to the big flowery door that led out of the ward and Evan tapped the code to open it. Suddenly Mick stopped at its threshold, "Wait!" he hissed.

"What?"

"Florencio…!" Mick slowly turned around and hobbled back to his room, "We gotta get him, that fucknut needs a breath of fresh air before he croaks in this place…!"

Evan blinked and hurried after Mick, trying to guide him back to the exit, "Nae nae, Mick we gotta go…!"

"Florencio…! Andale! We can go…! Come on… You're free, man!"

"Mick..!" Evan, exasperated, finally managed to pry the other rogue away and back on their original course, "C'mon, he's dead remember?"

"What?" Mick blinked, "Oh..! Right… Well adios anyways." he waved at behind himself at nothing.

"Adios?" Len shot behind himself from the front of the car.

Mick jolted and found himself in the back of a car, speeding down the highway. Len was driving up front and it looked like Mark was in the passenger's seat, attempting to change into his Weather Wizard attire.

"Uh… nothing!" Mick called up to the rear-view mirror, "Where are we going?"

Len grinned and glanced behind at the pyro. His hood was flapping in the wind of the open window, "You'll see!"

Mark grunted and his head popped over the top of the passenger's seat, domino mask set sloppily in place, "I sure hope you remember how to use that thing."

The pyro looked down at himself and saw he was fully clad as Heat Wave. Trusty old gun nestled in his palm. He returned the grin, "Of course I fucking do! Whattya take me for?"

"Do you think we're getting too old for this?"

Mick sniffed and woke up, finding himself back in his apartment. He sat up and glanced around the familiar home, feeling the heavy weight of sleep and the slight sting of a hangover. The pyro located the source of the rousing voice and saw Len, standing in front of the mirror, picking through his hair.

The bald rogue shook his head free of the fading memories of a disturbing dream and stood up, joining Cold by his reflection, "Too old?"

"Yeah." Len grunt as he yanked a tiny grey strand from his hairline.

"You're picking through your first grey hairs and yer already complaining about getting old?"

Len made a face and held the afflicting grey hair up for Mick to see and the pyro examined it solemnly."Yep. Ready for retirement." Len punched his arm with a scoff and Mick laughed dismissively"You worry too much. Who gives a fuck about growing old." he returned to his bed and made grabby fingers blindly at the air until Len moved within reach.

"We're gonna be doing this forever and you know it." Mick reassured, grasping Len's hand loosely in his own.

"That a promise?"

Bright flames licked at the sky, resonating from Central City bank. Len and Mick were seated on a hill overlooking the inferno. Far off in the distance, Len could see lightning as Mark drew the police away from the area, just as promised. They were free to enjoy the flames in peace.

It had been a good romp. Of course they hadn't stolen any money. The rogues had just let everything burn. Mick was easy to please. Really all they did was aid and enable the elderly pyro to have his fun until he had exhausted himself.

The Captain had been afraid to look in his lap for a long while now. The pyro had laid his head there an hour or so ago to rest and hadn't moved an inch since.

Len's arms slowly tightened around his friend's torso and he gave him a soft shake. Nothing.

The wind picked up and the captain's thinning, silvery white hair shivered against his scalp. His lips tightened and his wrinkled, cavernouse face twisted in emotion. The Captain's chest tightened until he couldn't contain the jarring sob as it scraped the back of his throat.

Faint sirens signalled the fire department's arival.

"Of course it's a promise."