In which the team discovers something unexpected about Len's recovery and nobody can explain it.
Ah, this chapter has been (almost) done for some time now, but finally I've finished it! Most of the delay was due to the fact that everything in this story up through the end of Len's perspective in this chapter had been written before I wrote anything in the Flash Sideways story-verse (and future chapters were planned out before Flash Sideways turned into part of my personal headcanon). That and I've been focusing on those other fics for a while.
As a result, Len having prior history with Henry, and the reaction to Harry's presence, were entirely new things that had to be worked into this fic somehow. Not like he was in a position to realize either one was there prior to this point anyway... right? ;)
So much for splitting it off from the previous one to keep length moderately consistent, though. Not only do I think this is the longest chapter I've written in this fandom, but I have doubts as to whether any other chapter will even come close.
You just had to have that panic attack, didn't you, Len?
Also, I'm sticking with the "call characters by their given names even if the viewpoint character doesn't know who they are" approach. Thus Oliver being "Oliver" instead of the Green Arrow, despite being in costume. (Although maybe Len's figured it out anyway, hmm?)
"Jay Garrick" is an obvious exception; his ability to participate in these scenes depends on the characters not knowing that he's really Zoom, so I'll continue to call him "Jay" until the plot requires him to reveal himself, just like Harrison Wells (via the Flash Sideways fic, Enemy of My Enemy) continued to be identified as "Harrison Wells" until he revealed himself to be Eobard Thawne.
All characters seen or mentioned copyright to DC, CW, etc.
Leonard pushed himself, slowly and painfully, up into a sitting position. He paused only to wave Mick and Barry off when they both stepped forward to help him.
Caitlin and Henry shared a bewildered look. Joe scratched his head, and Oliver looked... well, it was hard to tell what he was thinking with that damn mask, but from the way his eyes darted around, Leonard thought he might be more puzzled by everyone's reactions than anything else.
Once upright, Leonard leaned forward, one arm on his knees and the other hand holding the oxygen mask that was strapped to his face. He rested for a moment, far too exhausted from so little movement. Only once he'd caught his breath and was sure of his balance did he begin fumbling around under his pillow, wincing when the motion pushed at the IV in his arm, to retrieve the phone hidden underneath.
"You could at least pretend to be ashamed," Barry muttered. He took the phone back and shoved it into his pocket. If he'd used his speed to so much as glance at it, Leonard couldn't tell.
"Sorry... Barry," Leonard replied between gasps. "Old... habits."
"Well, since you're, um... up..." Henry said. "Why don't I give you a quick check-up, all right?"
Leonard watched the older man warily, flicked his gaze to Barry, then back again. Finally he nodded. "Yeah... sure."
"And you're going to tell me if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable," Henry ordered. He picked up a stethoscope. "I don't care how tough you think you are, if I let something go untreated or hurt you worse because you didn't say anything..."
Leonard nodded again. "Yessir," he murmured.
Caitlin seated herself in front of the computer without a word, leaving the physical part of the examination to the one member of their team that Leonard hadn't hurt in the past.
Leonard would have laughed if breathing didn't hurt so much. Such a quick change from the doctor protecting her patient to remembering he was the enemy; the Flash should be jealous of her speed. Or, since Caitlin hadn't realized he was awake at first, perhaps now she was only making sure he remembered it; certainly she'd been compassionate enough that day in Iron Heights, and he didn't believe she'd known he was awake those few seconds, either.
But at Iron Heights, she had never suggested that it might be compassionate to let him die in his sleep, and he remembered all too well how much damage the other inmates had done. So what had the assassin done to him that he didn't know about?
Leonard tried to catch a glimpse of one of the monitors Caitlin was watching, but the angle was all wrong.
"All right, let's start with a deep breath," Henry said. "Can you manage that?"
Leonard took one hesitant breath.
He gasped when the stethoscope's bell touched his chest.
"Too cold?" Henry asked.
"Don't like... being touched."
"Sorry; I forgot all about that. I'll try to make this quick." Henry moved the stethoscope. "Okay, another breath. Hold and... exhale. And in..." Another move. "And out."
The first part of the exam went smoothly enough, until Henry moved around behind his patient.
Leonard tensed up, and his ragged breathing sounded far too loud in his own ears.
Henry backed off quickly, stepping back around to where the injured man could see him.
It was only after Leonard sought Barry's gaze, saw that the younger man was completely relaxed—well, as relaxed as he could be with Mick in the room, staring at them with that stupid look on his face—that he forced himself to settle. "Go ahead," Leonard said, but he couldn't quite keep the tremor out of his voice.
"All right, inhale," Henry said, placing the stethoscope's bell on Leonard's back. "And... you okay?"
"Mmm... that one hurt."
Mick took one step forward before Henry pinned him back with a glare.
"I must say... Doctor Allen..." Leonard said. "I'm im... impressed."
"You're impressed," Caitlin muttered, her eyes still on the monitors.
"Not many people would... would stand up against Mick," Leonard explained. His voice was gaining strength, and he didn't need to stop talking to catch his breath quite as often. "Don't even need to know... what he's capable of. Just take one look... and walk away."
"It's like I told you the first time," Henry replied, "I'm not in the habit of walking away when someone needs my protection."
Mick frowned. First time? he mouthed.
Leonard stared at the floor instead of replying.
Henry picked up a digital blood pressure cuff. "Here, give me your arm for a moment," he ordered, and wrapped the cuff around Leonard's free arm. "This won't be completely accurate, not until you're totally relaxed, but I can still work with the readings."
Caitlin finally turned around to face him. "How'd you know his name was 'Allen,' anyway?" she asked.
"Lucky guess?" Leonard said. He smirked at her. "The kid calling him 'dad' might have been a bit of a clue." He wasn't going to tell her the real reason; bad enough he'd told Cisco that night.
She frowned. "Oh! Right, Barry did say that, didn't he? But... you actually remember that? With everything that was going on, I'm surprised you even noticed..."
"I have an eidetic memory, Dr. Snow," Leonard explained. "There isn't much I forget. Even if I didn't notice the first time." He held her gaze just long enough for her face to go pale before he stared at the floor again. "Speaking of which, where's Ramon?"
"He's, um... he's in his lab," Caitlin stammered. "I—I should probably see how his... um... analysis is coming."
"Yeah, when you go out," Henry said, "would you mind asking Doctor Wells if I could borrow his detector? You know which one I'm talking about."
"Uh... sure?" Caitlin replied before she made a swift exit.
Leonard's eyes snapped up to Henry's face. Did he say Wells? But didn't the Flash, or rather Eddie, take him down months ago? Didn't they know what Wells had done?
His breaths came shorter.
Faster.
Shallower.
He struggled with two conflicting impulses... To rip the mask free, to remove the damned thing covering his face as though it was the mask that stifled his breathing, and to forget that it was his panic alone that denied him the air he so desperately needed. Or to leave it in place, knowing, logically, that it provided a far more pure supply of oxygen than he could ever get on his own.
Remove the mask or leave it? Tear off the things attached to him, the wires and tubes that would slow his escape if Wells came after him in here... or leave them in place, as he knew they helped with his recovery?
His vision turned grey, shrank down to pinpricks. He couldn't concentrate on the question... couldn't be sure he even remembered the question.
Someone's hand pushed his own away and covered the mask, taking the choice away from him.
"Hey, easy," a voice murmured. "It's okay, Snart."
Leonard knew that voice, but he couldn't place it. Couldn't think through the wave of dizziness.
A pair of hands pushed him, gently, back down to the bed.
"Easy," the voice continued. "It's okay, you're safe. Cisco didn't mean what he said."
Cisco? Who the hell cared what Cisco had said? Not like curare would've done anything, anyway; nearly as useless as the anesthetics had been. But if Wells was here...
The voice continued to murmur reassurances. Not once did it mention Wells.
That had to mean something.
Leonard tried to focus on that voice. To listen. To believe what the voice was saying.
His pounding heart slowed until his chest stopped hurting, though the sensation of pressure remained. His breathing deepened. And finally, finally, his vision swam back into focus and he could see the people around him—Henry at the oxygen tank's controls, Mick holding the mask in place, not that he needed to, and even Joe and Oliver on the other side of the room—all watching him with concern. And Barry...
Barry was holding him down, both hands almost directly over Leonard's heart.
A whimper escaped from Leonard's throat.
Barry snatched his hands away. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just..."
"You didn't... didn't hurt me," Leonard gasped. "Just... scared me a bit."
Damn it! He'd only meant to remind the kid that he hated being touched.
"Ramon was freaking out about me being here," Mick finally said. He let go of the mask and took a few steps towards the door. "Want me to check on him?"
What the hell was he talking about?
Oh, right. Cisco. Everyone seemed to think Leonard was panicking about the little bastard's suggestion.
"No," he replied before Mick could get the wrong idea... before anyone accidentally let Mick know why they thought that. "No, I was just curious."
"Barry, would you mind?" Henry asked. He adjusted the tank's output with one hand, and waved vaguely in the direction of the monitors with the other; the blood pressure cuff dangled from his outstretched hand.
"Yeah, sure," Barry replied. He took Caitlin's place at the computer and brought up several images of Leonard's internal injuries... real-time images, as Leonard remembered. The lab's medical equipment, most of it built in-house, utilized far better systems than anything regular hospitals had access to.
"That better?" Henry asked. He stood up to peer at Leonard, but didn't move away from the tank's controls just yet.
Leonard nodded. "I think so." He turned his head to look at the monitors, but the angle was worse lying down. He couldn't make out anything that Barry was looking at.
"So," Henry said, "an eidetic memory, huh? I don't think you've told me that one before." He finally stepped away from the controls to continue his examination. "But that means you should have no trouble telling me where you were, say..." He paused. "The night of December 11, 2013?"
"The night the particle accelerator exploded?" Leonard replied. He glanced at Barry, but the younger man merely shrugged and continued to watch the monitors. "I don't mean to tell you your job, doctor, but if you're testing me for a concussion or something, shouldn't you be asking something you'd know the answer to? Or could reasonably find out? Like maybe my full name, or how many fingers you're holding up?"
"That's not why he's asking," Harry said, poking his head in the door.
Leonard yelped and nearly jerked back upright at the sight of him.
"Seriously, dude," Barry said without even looking away from the monitors, "you have got to stop jumping every time someone gets near you."
"I agree," Henry said. He pushed at Leonard, gently but firmly, to force the injured man to lie back down. "You need to stay calm if you want to heal properly."
"My apologies for startling you, Mr. Snart," Harry said. "I'll only be a moment." He ignored Mick's scowl and stepped in, then began waving one arm around Leonard.
Leonard tried, patiently, to behave as though he thought this was normal. But how could Barry—how could any of them—just stand there and act like there was nothing wrong with this man being here? "Aren't you supposed to be in a wheelchair?" he finally made himself ask. "And also... dead?"
"I've been getting that a lot lately," Harry replied. "Though you seem to have forgotten 'evil.'"
Leonard flinched.
"But..." Harry sighed. "With your... 'education,'" he said in a disgusted voice, "I suppose it's too much to ask that you've heard of the many-worlds theory?"
Joe snorted.
"You're from another universe," Leonard said.
Joe's eyebrows shot up.
Harry merely nodded.
"But it can't be just another universe," Leonard added. He shook his head. "No, you're telling me that there's more of you. That you're... you're like the Harrison Wells from another country." Joe's eyebrows kept on lifting with every word, long after Leonard would have thought it impossible. "Only instead of hopping on an airplane to get here, you came through a... I guess you'd call it a wormhole?"
"The same kind of wormhole your recent assailant came through," Harry replied. He smiled. "A simplistic explanation, yes, but it works for the moment. We can always discuss it in detail later if you'd like."
Leonard looked away from Harry, feeling a little uncomfortable at the man's obvious pleasure at his response. He remembered that smile from years ago; Tess had liked teaching him more than Harry ever had, and thus she'd given him that smile more often than her husband, but...
But he shouldn't be able to remember it. Any of it. He hadn't known the couple that well. They'd only been marks. They'd never taken to him as a student, never had the chance and would never have wanted it if they'd had it. Not after what he'd done to them... what he'd done to Tess.
"So..." Harry cleared his throat. "I assume you'd understand when I say that I'm not that Harrison Wells?"
Once again, Barry gave Leonard no reaction, no reason to doubt the man's word. The kid could be entirely too trusting, but Leonard allowed himself to relax slightly, though he continued to flinch every time Harry made a pass with whatever "detector" he kept waving around.
"The way I understand it," Leonard muttered, "that Harrison Wells wasn't even that Harrison Wells."
Harry's smile vanished, but he continued to focus on his own examination.
Joe shook his head. "You got all that from 'many worlds?'" he protested. "Man, I still haven't got a clue what they're talking about half the time."
Harry snickered.
Leonard managed to shrug one shoulder. "I had a boss—unofficially—who liked to talk about stuff like that." That, at least, was true enough.
Joe snorted. "Unofficially," he repeated. "Right. So what did you steal for this 'boss'... or was it from?"
"It might shock you to know," Leonard drawled, "that I've actually held jobs that didn't involve being a criminal." He sighed. "I shouldn't be surprised, though; my father didn't understand how I could enjoy it, either."
He pretended he didn't notice the smug look on Barry's face.
"If you actually enjoyed it," Oliver said, "then why aren't you still doing it?"
"My boss was murdered before she could make anything official," Leonard replied.
Oliver frowned. "Your father—"
"No," Leonard said. "Oh, he sabotaged me often enough, but he didn't have anything to do with her death. No, I have it on good authority that she'd been killed by a speedster."
Barry turned around to stare at him.
"Whose authority?" Joe asked.
Leonard rolled his eyes, glanced at Harry, then turned to look back at the cop. "Take a wild guess."
Joe narrowed his eyes.
"Who was she?" Oliver asked, far more gently than Leonard expected.
Mick groaned. He flexed one hand at his hip where the heat gun usually rested.
Of course. Mick had never seen her as anything but another mark, another symbol of the power Lewis and the Santinis had held over Leonard back then. As a reminder of everything that had gone wrong when Leonard had gotten sick.
That was just too bad. Henry had made Mick leave his weapons behind, and Leonard was damn well going to take advantage of it. "Her name was Tess Morgan," he replied. He waited for the group's reaction... for any one of them to call him a liar.
Joe, probably. Or maybe Oliver.
Barry's mouth dropped open.
"Damn," Joe muttered. "That's why you were having a panic attack?"
"When Doctor Allen said Wells was here," Oliver said, "you thought he meant..."
"Eobard Thawne?" Leonard supplied. "Reverse Flash? Speedster from the future? The thought might've crossed my mind."
Mick scratched his head. "Wait... Wells was the asshole in the yellow costume? The guy in the wheelchair tortured you? The same guy who—" He waved vaguely towards Henry Allen, then dropped his hand and shook his head. "What the hell did he have against you?"
Barry's jaw dropped further. "Tortured?" he echoed. "But why would he—"
"Can we stop talking about this?" Leonard pleaded. He didn't want to tell Barry why the other speedster had hurt him. He told himself it was just fear, that erasing the Reverse Flash from history didn't erase the effect he'd had on the thief as easily. He could even halfway believe it; that panic attack hadn't come from nowhere, after all.
Fear, and maybe a little bit of pride. Trying to salvage his reputation. To remind the kid that he didn't need anyone's pity.
But he couldn't quite convince himself that it wouldn't hurt to see the kid blaming himself. That he didn't want Barry to think, after everything else Eobard had done to hurt him, that he was the sole reason that the other speedster had felt the need to demonstrate, quite vividly, what would happen to Lisa if the Rogues ever pissed him off again.
Someone like Barry shouldn't ever have to feel that kind of guilt... not for someone like Leonard. But Barry had proven, all too often, that he was exactly the sort of person who would.
"Sorry," Barry mumbled. "I guess it doesn't really help with your recovery to focus on that kind of thing."
"It explains the anomalies in his x-rays, though," Harry said.
"The damage to his skeletal structure?" Henry said. "A speedster could do that?"
"A speedster's the only one I've seen that can," Harry replied. "Though this is the first time I've seen anyone survive that sort of attack." He met Leonard's gaze again. "You, my friend, have a gift for escaping certain death." He peered at the device on his wrist. "A gift that apparently has nothing to do with dark matter."
"Dark matter?" Leonard's eyes went wide. "Wait... are you suggesting you think I'm one of these meta f..." His eyes flicked from Henry to Barry and back again, and he quickly amended his question, "these metahumans?"
"We are suggesting," Henry replied, "that you are a hell of a lot tougher than you look. And we have no explanation for how you've recovered so quickly."
"Hmm... I'll try to take that as a compliment," Leonard said with something resembling his usual smirk.
Henry didn't bother to return the smile. "I've had patients bigger than you, Leo. Stronger. Guys who looked a lot like your friend over there," he said with a nod towards Mick. "Hell, the thugs at Iron Heights; you know what some of them were like. Patients who weren't messed up even half as bad as you were when I got to them, and it took several weeks before they could manage what you've done in a few hours. And that's even before I take blood loss into account; I'd have to estimate that you lost at least fifty-three percent, maybe nearer to sixty."
The smirk faded. "I thought forty percent was fatal."
"Normally it is," Henry said. "By all rights you should at least be in a coma. Instead, your breathing is fine, your heartbeat is steady... Blood pressure's extremely low, even in the middle of your panic attack, and that's probably the only thing even slightly normal about your condition." He nodded at the monitors. "I mean, you still look like you lost a fight with a wood-chipper, and you're a long way from healed. But there is nothing normal about how quickly you've recovered already."
"Len's always been able to recover quickly," Mick said. "Okay, so it took a few days for his ribs to heal after that speed freak went after him." He shrugged. "Maybe a week after the thugs at Iron Heights ganged up on him. But that's about it. It's got nothing to do with that damn explosion."
"Always?" Henry asked.
"Well, I didn't exactly have a reason to find out as a kid," Leonard admitted, "not before I became my dad's favorite punching bag. But for the last thirty years, yeah. You knew this the first time we met."
"Yeah, well, now I'm starting to wonder about that first time," Henry muttered. "You never thought there was anything odd about it?"
Leonard shook his head.
—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE—
Oliver frowned. There was something going on, something he'd missed, but what? Whatever trouble there was with the League, Leonard Snart was clearly at the center of it, but Oliver would never be able to interrogate him until the thief had recovered further; Henry simply wouldn't allow it.
Not that Oliver would have interrogated someone in that poor of shape, anyway. Probably.
You guys are the closest thing we have to experts... same kind of wormhole your recent assailant came through.
Or maybe it wasn't the League. Or rather, not the League that Oliver was familiar with.
Maybe Leonard wasn't in any condition to provide answers, but there were others here who could offer a few hints.
"Barry," Oliver said. "I need to talk to you. Why don't we leave Doctor Allen to his work?"
Henry pinned Oliver with a look of disapproval that a blind man couldn't miss. "Don't forget what I said."
"Don't worry," Oliver replied. "I won't do anything to upset your patient." Yet. "Barry?"
"Uh... sure?" Barry said.
Leonard's eyes snapped up to watch as Barry slowly moved away from the computers.
"Don't worry, Snart," Barry said. "You can trust my dad; he'll take good care of you, I promise."
The fear never left the thief's eyes, but he nodded.
Interesting. Leonard's upbringing didn't allow him to show how he felt so readily. If he showed that much fear—and that much trust in Barry's judgment, even if it was only because he had no choice—how much more must he feel that he kept hidden?
Oliver followed Barry out to the Cortex, ignored the sickened expressions on Caitlin and Cisco's faces, the anger on Jay's, and the mild confusion on Nyssa and Sara's. Malcolm still wore his mask, but his posture suggested that he was on guard.
There were too many questions, most of which would have to wait until Leonard could answer them. But right now there was one thing Oliver wanted to know more than anything.
He waited until he judged that they were far enough from the medical bay before grabbing Barry by the shirt and shoving him against a wall. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were helping Snart?" he hissed.
In hindsight, his first concern should've been why Barry didn't simply flash himself away.
"Get your hands off him!" Mick snarled.
A massive pair of arms wrapped around Oliver from behind and yanked him away from Barry. Oliver used the leverage to kick his way up the wall, breaking free of Mick's grasp and flipping over to land behind the arsonist in the same move.
He swung a fist before Mick finished turning around to face him.
The blow never fell. A telescope swung in from out of nowhere and smashed into the back of Oliver's head.
Next chapter, Oliver powers through his new migraine to learn what Barry knows of Majummed's attack.
Re: the many-worlds theory.
Am I seriously the only one in this fandom who thinks the idea of alternate universes is easier to wrap my head around than time travel? Not that I understand the science behind either one, but at least understanding the basic concept...
And yet, Harry being from another universe always seems to prompt the "I'm just getting used to time travel, now you're telling me there are other universes?" variety of confusion.
Also, the disgust in Harry's voice (prior to Len's response): in the original version of this scene, I'd written Harry as the sort who doesn't think too highly of the education that can be gained by someone who dropped out of school (or rather, can't be gained if one never attempts to finish it), though he is plenty surprised and pleasantly so by what Len knows about the subject.
Linked fics:
What Len had told Cisco (regarding knowing who Henry Allen is) happened in the main Flash Sideways fic, which takes place during the events of Out of Time and Rogue Time.
Len's panic attack due to events of the Flash Sideways fic, Enemy of my Enemy, which takes place shortly after Rogue Time (picking up right where Flash Sideways leaves off) and extends to the beginning of Rogue Air.
Mentions of Len being set on by the other inmates refers to the events of the Flash Sidewas fic, Legends of Another Day, which takes place during the events of Legends of Today and Legends of Yesterday.
Henry is that familiar with "Leo" due to certain events within the Flash Sideways prequel What Could Have Been. Len's memories of Tess, and "everything that had gone wrong" when Len got sick, are likewise explored in the prequel.
Why Len recovered so quickly to explored within the fic Majummed and its sequel League of MacGuffins.
Shawna's unexpected intervention at the end due to the events of the Flash Sideways fic Recruitment Drive, which takes place following Rogue Time and extends past the end of the first season.