Barry's having an off day, and nothing he does can make it right. Little things pop up that contribute to the overall suck-iness, but underneath it all is this feeling he gets that something's gone terribly wrong, he just hasn't heard about it yet. When he comes home and finds an unexpected visitor waiting for him, his fears are confirmed.
Features Mick Rory and Lisa Snart.
Okay, so this is just a different form of grieving, and it fit with the characterization from the first chapter, so I stuck it here. It's inspired by Legends of Tomorrow episode 1x15 'Destiny'. It has nothing to do with the episode coming up. It's just a stand alone piece of angst that I wrote to help me deal.
It's been one of those days.
It started out lousy, from the moment Barry's alarm failed to go off (because he somehow accidentally switched it from A.M. to P.M., even though he swears he didn't touch it), and continued getting worse from there, throwing him off his game from his first step out of bed. Nothing he did fixed it. It wasn't anything major. He didn't get into any accidents or arguments, he didn't blow anything up. It sucked in a plethora of tiny ways that kept cropping up unexpectedly to remind him that today wasn't going to be a good day, no matter how hard he tried to change that.
He tripped and spilled his coffee on his shirt and pants, which, considering the pervasiveness of the Speed Force, should have never happened. He couldn't find a non-broken pencil or a working pen whenever he needed one, and the battery on his iPad kept draining down to nothing immediately after coming off the charger. The sandwich he bought from the deli he went to for lunch (where he's a regular, with his own sandwich on the menu) dripped pickle relish – the one condiment he absolutely hates. A quick jog to Jitters to drop off something for Iris while wearing untreated shoes set a brand new pair of Converse on fire.
At some point during the afternoon, a sharp ache cut through Barry's chest, probably acid reflux from the damn pickle relish, but it felt like an explosion. His heart sped up, his head throbbed, his stomach burned. It surged through him with such force that it made him want to scream. He felt like he was being torn to pieces, fiery hooks latching in to his skin and yanking in all directions. It was so severe, it brought him to his knees, curling him at the stomach, arms clutching hard to keep himself together. Regardless of how agonizing the experience, it lasted only seconds, but the aftershocks lingered, and by the end of the day, he felt achy and ill. He wanted to get home and go to bed, crawl under the covers and hide from the world.
It left him with a feeling of dread, like something horrible had happened, he just hadn't heard about it yet.
And that automatically made Barry think of Len.
Barry hasn't heard from his boyfriend for a while now. Every night, when Barry comes home, he expects to see him – hogging the bed, spread out like a starfish, listening to Barry's iPod, or raiding the cabinets, since it seems that all snacks in the future are sugar-free, forcing Len to subsist mostly off of an antique hoard of breakfast cereal to get his sugar fix.
Barry reaches for the lock to his apartment, key in hand, hoping, as he always does, that tonight will be the night. He brushes his hand against the wood door, and his fingers start to tingle. He feels a presence waiting for him inside. He smiles. He knows that, with his luck being what it's been all day, it's more than likely a thief or a violent criminal. Since Len can reasonably be described as both those things anyway, Barry decides to take his chances, and rushes to unlock the door.
It's him. It has to be him. And it's about frickin' time.
It takes Barry three tries to throw the sticky lock, and on the fourth try, he nearly busts the door off the hinges. Barry tosses his coat and his bag on the sofa, and sprints straight for the bedroom. If Len's back, he'll be waiting in there, probably double-handedly eating Barry's leftover fried chicken and a carton of cookies and cream ice-cream.
And, if there's a God, he'll be naked.
Barry has a hand on the top two buttons of his shirt, working them open, imagining Len's mouth on his, tasting greasy and sweet, his lips and tongue cold to the touch. Barry pushes impatiently past the bedroom door and sees him.
Them, actually.
Lisa Snart, curled up in a chair, legs tucked under her, her head buried in her folded arms, and Mick Rory, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
The imposing man stands when Barry enters the room, and Barry bristles, nerves on alert.
So Barry was right after all. A thief and a violent criminal.
"Hel…lo?" Barry says when he sees them, not sure what else he should say. Get out! would be the first thing to hop to mind if Barry had discovered Mick there alone, but the addition of Lisa makes this unexpected visit unsettling. She hasn't been to Barry's apartment yet, as far as he knows. Len made Barry's place his safe house from the world, and that included his sister and his partner. How Mick knows where he lives, Barry has no idea, since Len swore he'd never tell. "Is Len lending out my key now or something?"
Lisa sniffles, and Mick puts a hand on her shoulder.
"No," Mick says softly. "Snart didn't give us your key. Uh…"
Barry squares his shoulders defensively at the thought that Len doesn't know that they're there. Barry doesn't mind Lisa, but he never truly felt comfortable around Mick. There was always something about him that bothered Barry, like the man could turn at any time, become a loose cannon, and nothing in the world would be able to contain him. But here he is, sullen, soft spoken, almost respectful in his demeanor (if Barry overlooks the fact that he broke in to his apartment).
Still on his guard, Barry switches his attention for the moment to look closely at Lisa. Despite how miserable she seems, Barry can't help chuckling when he notices what she's wearing.
"Did you snag one of Cisco's sweatshirts?" Barry asks, hoping that the mention of Cisco Ramon might cheer her up a bit. "You know, your brother does that, too. Steals my S.T.A.R. Labs sweats. I think he has more of them by now than I do."
Unintentionally, that little joke causes Lisa to curl up tighter, cry harder.
That sharp, pulsating ache in Barry's chest returns, and he knows. He knows, but he needs to hear it. Or maybe he doesn't want to hear it. Maybe he should change the subject, or just throw them out, but then he'd never know for sure. He wouldn't go looking for himself. He wouldn't task Gideon to examine the timeline, wouldn't ask Cisco or Caitlin to investigate. He'd simply erase this encounter from his head, keep going on as if it had never happened.
And he'd spend every day till his last waiting for Len to return home to him.
"What's going on? W-why are you guys even here?"
Barry stares expectantly at the two somber people in front of him, both of them not moving, not speaking, except that Lisa has surrendered to full blown tears. The ache in Barry's chest grows stronger, and he wants to revert to his original plan - go straight to bed, climb under the covers, and hide.
"Where's…where's Len?" Barry asks, gaze shifting repeatedly from Lisa to Mick. Neither of them look at him – Lisa curled up so tight that Barry can't see her face anymore, and Mick…his eyes have started to wind a path down to his left hand, to something he's holding. Something Barry has seen before. He knows the story behind it – what it means to Len and Mick's friendship. Len would put it on when he was feeling sentimental, fidget with it for comfort. He wore it almost non-stop after he marooned Mick, and then again when Mick became Chronos. But even when Len didn't wear it, it was never out of his possession.
Barry sees it, and the ache goes from awful to catastrophic, lethal like a razor and slicing his heart to shreds.
"No," Barry says, taking a step back. The room suddenly feels too cramped with the three of them in it. Barry needs to go. He needs to run. He needs to find out where Len is and go there, no matter how far away it is, when in time it is. He needs to know why Len doesn't have his pinkie ring, and he needs to hear it from the source. "What happened? What…what did he do? Where is he?"
"You know, I never really understood the relationship the two of you guys had," Mick says. "I didn't get how he could fall for you, you being a superhero and all, and us being on the wrong side of the law. But being on the Waverider, I think I finally know. It's because like minds think the same. You're a superhero, but he's…" Mick clears his throat, but it doesn't seem to help. "He was a hero, too."
Barry catches the change in tense. His body shakes, vibrating so hard he might pass out of existence entirely. "No," he mutters, the sound coming from a place of heartbreak embedded so deep, Barry didn't even remember it existed, not since he was a kid. "No, he's not…he didn't…you're lying!"
"I'm not lying, kid," Mick says, working to keep his temper in check, his own overwhelming grief hidden.
"Of course you are!" Barry yells. Lisa sobs louder when Barry raises his voice. Barry doesn't know if it's because of his volume, or because of what he's saying, but as much as his heart goes out to her, he can't stop. He's furious at Mick, that he could let this happen. Barry storms up to him and stares right in his eyes, the lightning flashing behind his irises reflecting in Mick's empty stare. "You betrayed him! He told me all about it. How you turned on him and the team. And now…now you're…you're trying to…" Barry can't nail down exactly what he wants to say, and that infuriates him more. "Why are you doing this?"
"Barry?" Lisa mutters from behind the bulky sleeve of her pilfered sweatshirt. "Please, listen, Barry." Her voice begins to shake. "P-please…help."
Barry doesn't know that he would ever lift a finger to help Mick. Mick is Len's partner, but he isn't like Len. Of course, Barry doesn't know Mick too well. He knows about Mick, and mostly from stories Len told him, which he did with a fond chuckle and a shake of his head no matter how terrifying they sounded, most of them ending in something being set on fire. But Barry doesn't get the same vibe from Mick that he gets from Len. He doesn't think that the same good he feels in Len exists in Mick. Mick seems to have little conscience, and only two real loyalties.
His first loyalty is to himself.
But since the second is to Len, Barry has entertained the idea that he could be wrong.
Without Len to intervene, to tell Barry that Mick can be trusted, Barry is on the fence over what to do.
Lisa whimpers, a new flood of tears flowing down her cheeks, and Barry sighs. This is as much for Lisa as it is for Mick. For Lisa, Barry would do what he could.
And for Len. He'd do anything for Len.
"What do I have to do?" Barry asks, fighting to stay strong, to not let whatever happened destroy him.
"You travel through time, right?" Mick asks. "I mean, you just do it. You don't need no map, no ship. You just…run…and you can get there?"
Barry nods. That's an oversimplification, but whatever Mick is thinking, Barry can find a way to make it work.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I can."
Mick nods. He grabs Barry's wrist. Barry resists, but Mick succeeds in raising his hand. He presses Len's silver pinkie ring into Barry's palm and closes Barry's fingers around it, squeezing it tight, like a hand shake.
Like an agreement.
"Then I need to ask you for a favor," Mick says, staring at Barry with determination in his eyes, "and I have a feeling you already know what it is."