Summary: Len knows there's something going on with the Flash, but since Barry refuses to give him a straight answer – or any answer, for that matter – he'll just have to find them for himself.

It's better to know how to learn than to know.

-Past (Eleven Months After the Tidal Wave)-

Star City was dirty. It was big and noisy and crowded and there were plenty of dark, dingy corners that could easily be hidden in. Mick would love it. Len was on the fence. It had its merits, but it wasn't home. Unfortunately, home was lacking in what he needed at the moment and that was answers. Despite Barry's insistence that he'd answer any questions he could, it turned out the definition of 'could' translated more closely to 'if I feel like it.'

Len was fair. After calling off his PI, he'd given the kid six months to sort it out and tell him the truth. Six months of Barry Allen flashing in and out of his heists whenever he felt like it because he was "bored." Six months of waking up to find the pantry empty of food – including his ice cream sandwiches – and all six foot two of the Flash sprawled unceremoniously on the couch. Six months having him stay for up to three days on the strength of, "Harrison and I had a disagreement."

When pressed on what the disagreement was about, however, he was usually met with absurd explanations such as, "He said Do-si-dos are better than Thin Mints and I mean, who says that? I could see Caramel Delights or even Shortbreads – you know, if you don't like chocolate – but Do-si-dos? Not that I can hate on a Do-si-dos – who doesn't love oatmeal and peanut butter– but there's a line, a very distinct line. One side has Thin Mints and the other has every other cookie ever made."

Mick, who had been sitting a few feet from Barry and Shawna, lighter flicking on and off distractedly, grunted at the rant. "I prefer Samoas."

Barry turned to Mick with a look of absolute shock and appall. "You, sir, are a heathen."

Mick hummed at the open flame. "Thanks."

The worst part was Len couldn't be sure that wasn't what the fight had been about. He'd certainly been on the receiving end of some fairly ridiculous arguments with his former nemesis. The one on the definition of a donut stood out in his mind.

"No, it's called an Apple Fritter. A fritter. Not a donut. A fritter. Fritters are like donuts, but they're not. There are very distinct differences. That's why they're called Apple Fritters, instead of Apple Donuts. You don't tell someone you're bringing donuts and then show up with a box of Apple Fritters. It's rude."

Len held out a hand to the make-shift kitchen, where three boxes that were not Apple Fritters sat. "There are other donuts, Barry. Shawna didn't just bring back Fritters."

Barry seethed angrily, voice vibrating dangerously. "It's not a donut."

Then, of course, there had been the epic battle between Barry and Hartley over whether the color indigo was purple or blue, that started with an episode of Sesame Street at five in the morning and ended with Hartley blowing out several windows with his gauntlets, Mick lighting the coffee table on fire, and Len freezing Barry's feet to the floor, because he was unimpressed by the argument that, "I'm not gonna to hurt him! I just want to hang him off a high rise until he admits Indigo is not purple. Come on, Lenny, I'll catch him before he hits the ground."

Although, it was good to know that Lisa was handy at keeping all the unstable elements in Len's life at bay and not just Mick. When Barry had finally managed to get his legs out of the ice, she'd swooped in and ten minutes later, the whole episode might as well never have happened as far as Barry was concerned.

What it came down to was that Barry clearly wasn't stable. There were better days and worse days, but on no occasion was he willing to give Len a straight answer and so Len was forced to search elsewhere. He'd considered attempting to tail Barry again, but didn't want to tip the kid off and have to see that desperate, begging, pleading song and dance again.

When did he get so soft?

Outside of him and Dr. Wells, however, there weren't many people left in Barry's life that he talked to. Being a detective and in Central City, Eddie Thawne was less than ideal. Likewise, Captain Singh and his fiancé were a definite no. Which left the mysterious Felicity Smoak, whose calls often went unreturned, but nevertheless continued to try and reach out to Barry, nearly daily from the updated cell phone records he'd managed to acquire. Before the tidal wave, they'd spoke regularly, so if nothing else, she may be able to provide some insight.

Felicity was the CEO of Palmer Tech and girlfriend to Oliver Queen, a former billionaire playboy. Until recently, they'd lived in a nice house off the coast before picking up and moving back to the city – presumably so that Felicity could take a more active roll in her company.

He'd tailed her for a few days and her routine was suspicious at best. She went to work, attended meetings, met her boyfriend for lunch and sometimes disappeared for entire nights. He had no idea how she did it or where she went. She was smart, but she was by no means stealthy. Not in those shoes.

It was on the fourth night, as he sat on his bike across the street from her loft, waiting to see if she'd leave again, that he realized he was going to have to move on her. He'd gotten everything he could just by watching; they needed a sit down, a meeting. His face wasn't well known in Star City, so he could bump into her at the café where she got coffee every morning. Or he could just kidnap her. His mood perked up a little at the thought. It had been a while since he'd done a kidnapping. She was too high profile to break Hartley and Shawna in on it. He'd ask Lisa, but she'd been a particularly obtuse brand of annoying lately. Mick, though? Mick and him could use something to bond over.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket and Len considered ignoring it, especially when he looked at the display and saw Lisa's cell, but he didn't have anything better to do and it could be an emergency.

He answered with a gruff, "What?"

"Hey, Lenny, how's Operation Busy Body?"

"Stop calling it that." Her laugh was soft, a little too quiet, like she was trying not to bother someone. "Is this business, or do you just enjoy tormenting me in your spare time?"

"Why can't it be both?"

"Lisa."

"Lenny." When he didn't respond, she gave in. "You have a visitor."

"Barry." He'd been overdue for a visit. They saw him once a month on average and the last visit had been just over five weeks ago.

"He got here sometime in the last few hours. I was out getting drinks with Shawna and Mick and decided to call it an early night. Hartley didn't hear him come in."

That was great. He left for a few days to do minor reconnaissance and they put Hartley in charge of the warehouse while they went out and got drunk. Not that Hartley was completely incompetent, but he had a tendency to lock himself in his room and work on projects for hours. A bomb wouldn't be able to get his attention, let alone a police raid or a break-in and certainly not the Flash.

He was going to have to up Hartley's training, teach him the importance of being aware of his surroundings, plan a few sneak attacks in the kid's room while he was working on things that weren't dangerous enough to explode if his hand slipped. He'd deal with that later, though. At the moment, he had an unconscious Speedster in his warehouse and he was seven hours away on a surveillance mission that wasn't going nearly as well as he'd like.

"Is he hurt?"

"Not that I can tell, but he never is." Not that they ever saw, was closer to the truth. Lisa's elongated sigh of relief was a clear sign that she'd stripped off her heals and sat down. "Do you want me to ask him what loverboy did this time or are you on your way?"

"I'll be there by morning. I need to regroup and…" He trailed off as the door to Felicity's apartment building opened and she stepped out, alone and headed the opposite direction of where he knew her car was parked. "On second thought, go ahead and ask. See what you can get without me there. And stock the pantry."

"Shawna and Mick are making a food run on the way back. You want anything? Those little ice cream sandwiches you love?"

"He'll eat 'em before I got there."

Lisa muffled her laughter. "Then you'd better floor it, Lenny."

He hung up on her and dropped the phone in his pocket. Felicity had her purse and overcoat on. At eleven in the evening, it was suspiciously late and the streets were empty, but it was the first time she'd been out at night without company since he'd started following her. He could wait, probably should, but… What the hell.

Len got off the bike and made sure his Cold gun was secure before heading off after her. He probably wouldn't need it. She didn't look dangerous and she didn't seem like the type to put up much of a fight, especially considering that all he wanted was a little background information on a friend. Of course, Barry didn't look dangerous or particularly stubborn until something pissed him off and then he was a raging ball of unstable lightening. Better safe than sorry.

He set a steady pace behind her, far back enough not to draw attention to himself. She didn't look relaxed, but she didn't look nervous, either. Her heels were clicking at a steady rhythm, fast and even. Two blocks down and the street lights were further apart, leaving the sidewalk darker for longer stretches. There were no moving cars, no potential witnesses that he could see. He picked up his own steps, intending to get behind her as they passed one of the frequent alleyways. If he could get her in one, they wouldn't be interrupted while he explained what he was doing there. Hopefully, she'd listen. If not, he'd head back, get Mick, and try Plan B.

He stopped short as a dark figure stepped out of the alley between him and Felicity, arms extended and a bow pulled tight, the arrow aimed at Len's chest. Len forced himself to look past the arrow itself and at the man clothed in green leather, hood pulled up and a dark mask obscuring his eyes. The Star City vigilante.

"What are you doing in my city?"

Slowly, Len raised his hands in a show of surrender. "I'm not here to cause trouble, just passing through."

"Why are you following Felicity Smoak?"

Behind the Green Arrow, Felicity had stopped walking. Her arms were crossed over her chest expectantly. Not a hint of nervousness or shock anywhere in her expression or body language. It had been a trap and she'd been the bait. He doubted this was her first time. When she saw him looking at her, she narrowed her eyes. "What he said. Why are you following me?"

His first instinct was to lie, but there wasn't much of a point. For once in his life, he wasn't actually doing anything illegal. Yet. "We have a mutual friend, so to speak."

The Green Arrow's frown deepened. "I find that hard to believe."

Len raised his eyes eyebrows, looking the vigilante over openly. "I find it hard to believe you aren't cold without sleeves."

"I don't get cold."

"I'll take that as a challenge."

"It wasn't."

"I'm Captain Cold?"

"You're a thief and a murderer."

"And what does that make you?"

"Not…"

"Boys! Can we fight over who the bigger man is later?" Her eyes went comically wide. "Metaphorically! Obviously. Not who has the bigger…"

"Felicity."

"Right, sorry." She stepped up, putting herself next to the Green Arrow. "Let's just focus on the task at hand, shall we? What friend?"

While Felicity obviously knew and trusted the vigilante, Len didn't. He never trusted anyone he didn't have something on and when it came to the Green Arrow, he didn't even have a name.

Still, there had been rumors of the Flash working with the Arrow before the wave and, more to the point, there was still an arrow aimed at his chest. "Barry Allen."

"Barry?" The bow dropped, less tightly drawn and aimed at the ground.

Felicity set a hand on the Green Arrow's shoulder and Len noted that the vigilante didn't shrug it off or even appear to notice. "What about Barry? Is he okay?"

"Can we take this somewhere a little more… private?"

Felicity and the vigilante exchanged looks. After a silent moment, Felicity nodded and the Green Arrow tucked his bow away in its quiver. "Go with Felicity to the loft. I'll meet you there."

[]

"Nice place."

They'd parted ways in the alley, Felicity walking Len in through the front door while the Green Arrow presumably found an alternate route. When the door opened, he was already there, standing in the middle of the loft, arms crossed over his chest and a threatening scowl firmly in place. Len pointedly ignored him as he looked around the apartment.

"A little modern for my taste."

"You were saying something about Barry?" On entering, Felicity had immediately moved to stand with the Green Arrow by the sofas, practically elbow to elbow – well, her elbow to his hip, he had at least six inches on her.

Len looked at the two of them together, trademark smirk frozen in place as it clicked. The height, the stature, the familiarity they had with each other, the way they'd looked to one another for approval before inviting him there, the loft not yours, – it all fit.

He made a show of relaxing in their personal space, taking his riding gloves off as he spoke. "I did a background check on you, Felicity. Your boyfriend, too. I like to know who I'm dealing with. You're an intelligent woman, attractive, and sensible. He's a former playboy who spent his time drinking, womanizing, and wasting his family's money until there wasn't anything left to waste."

The vigilante tensed defensively. "What are you getting at, Cold?"

He shrugged, "If she wanted a boy toy, she could have done better."

"I am not…"

Len smirked as the Green Arrow – Oliver Queen – cut himself off a moment too late with a flinch, dropping his head to stare at the floor. Felicity patted him on the back in sympathy. "It's okay. Secret identities really aren't your… thing."

Oliver looked at her with narrowed eyes, though they weren't angry. "That's not helping."

She continued to pat his back. With a resigned sigh, Oliver pulled his hood down and took off the small black mask covering his eyes. "So, you know who I am. What now?"

"Like I said, I like to know who I'm dealing with." Oliver stared him down and Len met his glare unwaveringly. "I'll assume you both know Barry's the Flash?"

Felicity's brows drew together, not in confusion, but clear concern. "He told you?"

He shrugged, "More or less. I'm here because there's something wrong with him."

Oliver and Felicity exchanged glances again before Oliver asked, "Wrong how?"

"Short temper, erratic behavior, secretive. We've had a few meta attacks in the city, but he refuses to help."

Oliver's frowned deepened. "Who's handling them?"

"I am."

Felicity raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You? But… you're a criminal."

"We're not here to talk about me." The last thing he needed was to have his already dubious reputation sullied further. "We're here to talk about Barry."

Oliver shook his head. "No offense, Cold, but you're asking us to give you information on a close friend of ours you've tried to kill. How do we know we can trust you?"

Put it like that… "You don't."

Oliver shifted uncomfortably, leaning against the back of the sofa. "Tell us everything."

[]

"Survivor's Guilt?" Lisa kicked her feet up onto Len's desk. "You drove twelve hundred miles round trip to get Survivor's Guilt? I could have told you that."

"I know." She'd already been waiting in his office when he'd gotten back. Mick had stayed upstairs watching the kids, making sure they weren't interrupted. "They think he needs a push."

"Who's they? I thought you were going after that Felicity Smoak chick?"

"The Green Arrow doesn't appreciate people stalking his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? I thought she was with…" Lisa's eyebrows raised in understanding. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Huh, okay, then. Now what? You know it's not just Survivor's Guilt."

He did. He knew a lot of things. More than the Green Arrow. Not that he didn't appreciate the vigilante's position. If someone had told him the Flash was a mentally unstable mess, he probably would have assumed the same thing – that the kid was suffering under the weight of his own guilty conscience and no small amount of PTSD – but seeing was believing and Len had been watching Barry for months. It wasn't that simple.

Although, that didn't mean Queen was wrong about everything. It was Barry that had brought the meta-human attacks to Len's attention. Whatever was holding Barry back, he still cared enough to want to help. A push might be exactly what he needed. Of course, it could also make it worse.

For now? "I'll think about it. Did he say what the fight was about?"

"Dr. Wells is under the misguided belief that Peter Capaldi is the best Doctor Who they've had since the series reboot in 2005, which is, apparently, an insult to every other Doctor Who and an attack on Barry as a person."

Len nodded. "Capaldi's a good actor. Not really Doctor material, though. I liked Eccleston and Tennant, but no one can replace Baker."

"Oh, careful there, big brother, your geek is showing." Laughter echoed down the stairs and Lisa looked back over her shoulder.

"What are they doing?" Please don't say Cards Against Humanity. That never ended well.

"Barry's trying to convince Hartley to design a sound frequency that'll disintegrate clothing without harming the person wearing it. So far, Hartley hasn't agreed, but Barry has some very convincing arguments."

"Such as?"

"There are several issues of GQ magazine up there. Wouldn't you know it? Hartley has a type and Barry nailed it."

Len didn't want to know, he really didn't want to know. Barry Allen was a manic ball of sunshine with a hair trigger and the ability to turn Len's den of silent, sullen criminals into a rowdy group of overgrown children. Not even Mick was immune. Len was fairly certain he'd seen him crack half a smile the other day.

"You should go upstairs. Barry's waiting." Lisa got to her feet and moved to stand behind the chair, hands on the frame. "He didn't eat your ice cream sandwiches, by the way. Ate just about everything else, even Mick's jerky, but not those. Be sure to tell him thank you."

[]

It took three and a half months for another meta-human to pop up. As luck would have it, he was out of town doing reconnaissance with Lisa and the kiddies. Mick had hung back and he could have passed it on to him, but Oliver's words had been scratching at the back of his mind.

Barry needed a push. He needed a nudge. He needed Len to step back and make him be a hero again. And as much as every instinct Len had said that wasn't a good idea, as much as it pained him to admit it, even internally, Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak knew Barry better than he did. At least, they knew who Barry had been.

Fine.

He texted Barry back, called it a favor and ignored the sick feeling in his gut that said he was doing the wrong thing.

[]

They wrapped up surveillance and were heading back when Mick called.

"Buddy, you need to get back here. Now."

"What's wrong?"

"The kid's hurt."

"How bad?"

"Bad." There was a pause. "I don't wanna move him."

"Where is he?"

"Back door."

"We're five minutes out."

[]

Bad was an understatement. Barry was barely breathing, his body laid out in front of the backdoor of the warehouse. Mick was crouched beside him, tense and scowling.

Len dropped down to one knee and pressed fingers to Barry's neck, feeling the weak pulse. "You found him like this?"

"Heard somethin' hit the door. When I came to check, he was here." Mick's hands clenched. "I thought he was dead."

He probably would have been if it wasn't for his meta-human healing. Len rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. They needed to take this inside before someone saw. "Help me get him upstairs."

Barry was deceptively thin, but apparently there was more than skin and bones under that suit. It took both Len and Mick working together to get him into the rec room without aggravating whatever injuries he had – internal and external. Despite their efforts, Barry was still groaning, eyes fluttering as he struggled for consciousness while Len pulled open the top of the shirt.

Jesus Christ. The kid's abdomen was a rainbow of color, the entire left rib cage black and purple, the bruising spreading up to Barry's shoulder and down his arm. The arm itself was pulled awkwardly away from the shoulder, bone jutting out above it, clearly dislocated.

"Len?" Barry's hoarse whisper cut through his thoughts.

He put a hand on Barry's forehead. "Don't move."

Barry stared up at him with glassy eyes for several seconds before he sucked in breath and tried to force himself up with his good arm.

"I said don't move."

"Have to… I have to go." Barry fell back with a cringe and a pained cry. "Can't be here. Len, I can't be here."

"Barry…"

"Eddie. I need Eddie. I'm supposed to be with Eddie. Take me to Eddie. Len, please. I'm supposed to be with Eddie."

That shouldn't hurt, but it did. It wasn't like Barry had ever come to him for help before, so he shouldn't be surprised that Barry didn't want it this time. Of course, want it or not, he was getting it. "I'm not taking you anywhere until I know you're okay."

Barry hesitated, looking around the room at the other Rogues with wide, shining eyes before he nodded and focused back on Len. "My shoulder, you need to reset it and I need… food. I need food to heal. Food and sleep, but food first, then take me to Eddie. Promise?"

As much as Len wanted to tell Barry exactly where he could stick that particular request, he was suddenly remembering all those times Barry had eaten everything in the kitchen and passed out, unresponsive for hours before he'd woken up. How many of those times had Barry been injured and they hadn't known?

He couldn't think about that now. "Lisa, get a cold pack ready. Shawna, juice. Mick, hold him down. Barry?"

Barry nodded tersely, lips tight.

"Tell me when it's in."

Mick leaned in to press his forearm over Barry's chest, pinning his upper body while Len took Barry's arm and gently straightened it, pulling until he heard a soft click and Barry patted the couch with his other arm, breathlessly repeating. "It'sinit'sinit'sinit'sin."

Len laid the arm back down on the sofa and Mick and him worked together to peal the top of the suit off. Lisa swooped in with the cold pack, laying it on the swollen socket. A moment later, Shawna popped back into the room, holding three half gallons of orange juice and Len and Mick moved out of the way so she and Lisa could help Barry sit up.

His face was dangerously pale as Shawna tipped the juice up to his mouth and swatted his shaking hands away when he tried to take hold the jug himself. It didn't take him long to down the first half gallon. Should have made him sick, actually, but Barry just sat back, panting with a strange, unfocused look in his eyes.

The room was oppressively silent.

They should be doing something. Finding out who hurt Barry. Len doubted it was the girl. From the footage and eye witness accounts, she was a teenager, hiding in the construction sites and she'd only attacked when she was provoked or threatened. If she had better control over those powers of hers, Len wouldn't have minded her on his team.

He stopped himself right there, because if he wasn't careful, the warehouse would turn into Leonard Snart's Home for Wayward Meta-humans and Lisa would never let him live that down. Besides, there were more important things to worry about at the moment.

Stepping back, he turned to Hartley. "There were cameras at the construction site. Take Mick. I don't care what you have to do, get the footage."

Hartley nodded and turned on his heels, heading for the stairs. Mick hesitated, but Len leveled him with a stare. "I need to know who did this."

Reluctantly, Mick followed Hartley down the stairs.

When he looked back, Barry was staring at him.

Shawna started to put a second jug of orange juice to his mouth, but Barry pushed it away. "No. No, I need to get to Eddie. You have to take me to Eddie now. Len, you promised."

"Actually…"

"No, no, no. Please. If I'm not there, he'll look for me."

"Who?"

Barry shook his head, sharp and fast, then flinched at the sudden movement. "I can't. I can't tell you. I can't. There are rules. I'm not supposed to be here. Please, Len. I need Eddie. I'm supposed to be with Eddie. Please, Len, please. He can't find me here. I won't let him."

Len closed his eyes against the anger welling up inside him. Eddie had to be Detective Thawne. Barry had been spending a lot of time with him recently and as much as Len wanted somewhere to place the blame, he didn't think Eddie could have done this.

"Lenny?" Len opened his eyes and Barry's face was twisted in desperation. "Please? I barely made it here. I can't run all the way there. I would. I would, but I can't and I need your help. I need you to take me to Eddie before he realizes I'm not there."

Shit. "Did Detective Thawne do this to you?"

"Eddie?" The desperation slipped into amusement, tinged with barely contained giggles. "No. No, not Eddie. Eddie helps. Eddie tries. Means well. Not his fault. Eddie's good. A good guy."

Len sighed in resignation. "Lisa, help me get him cleaned up and changed. Shawna, get more juice, he's finishing it on the way."

The bright smile he got from Barry and the breathy, "Thank you," didn't make him feel any better. He was going to take Barry to Detective Thawne and make sure he was okay, then Len needed to review that security footage, after that… after that he was taking another trip to Star City.