Len had no idea what he was doing when he stepped out from behind the beam hiding him and Barry from view, all he knew was that if he didn't make his presence known right that second, they were going to kill a fourteen-year-old kid.

"No wonder you have so many holes in your organization," Len called as he descended the stairs, causing every head to turn—and every gun to point at him. He was packing tonight too, he wasn't stupid, but taking it out now would be. "You're relying on these two to do your dirty work, and for what? A kid you can't muzzle? Jesse's laughing all the way to the bank over this one, trust me. And I'd say he'll be here in about…" Len smugly looked at his watch, "two minutes."

At least Len was a good liar, but he couldn't be sure if Santini bought it. Everyone else looked like they might. Except Ralph who only looked terrified—and was crying. They must have grabbed him from home. Len should have known they wouldn't let him out easy.

"Snart," Santini said with a sneer, lowering his weapon though all five of the others remained aimed. "You're sticking your nose everywhere lately, aren't you? I don't know what you did to my guys the other day, but they couldn't even remember going to see you, came limping back all dazed and bloody."

It was different men with Santini tonight. He probably hadn't been happy with the other three for failing to take Len out.

"How'd you get out of the river anyway?" Santini asked. "A regular Houdini? Or did you have help?"

"He's got this cute young bodyguard hanging around," Rosa spoke up, less nervous looking than some but with a sharp eye moving about the room. "Maybe it was him."

"Please," Sam scoffed, "that pretty boy's just around to keep Snart's bed warm."

Barry hadn't come down the stairs with Len. He was staying hidden—or so Len thought until he saw shadows moving behind the others as if someone had snuck around the second floor and dropped down without a sound.

Len couldn't give away what he'd just seen. He couldn't show fear. He had no idea how to fix the situation since Jesse was not coming and neither were the detectives—it would have been too risky to call them with Ralph in the crossfire—but if Barry could help even the odds...

"Don't you believe in fairytales, Vinny?" Len held his ground as he reached them, feigning confidence he didn't feel to put Ralph at ease. "I grew gills and swam back to shore. Happens all the time."

Santini cleared his throat and the goons with him squared their guns on Len with more promise. "I'm gonna need a bit more than that, coz I don't think Jesse is coming tonight or you'd have brought more backup."

Barry crept up on the largest goon first; Len could clearly see him now and took a steadying breath.

"Who says I don't?"

The goon screamed as Barry struck him in the back, everyone spinning about in surprise, but Barry had more than a large enough shield in the man. He snapped his arm back, removing him of his gun, and kicked him forward into the next goon that he then charged before anyone could react. Kicking the second goon in the face as he stumbled from the first man falling on him, Barry snatched up one of the downed guns, though Len knew he didn't know how to use it, and seized Santini by the front of his suit, spinning him around to press the muzzle of the gun to his temple—all in the span of about ten seconds.

The final goon stared dumbstruck at his fellows moaning on the ground, one with a broken arm, another with his head nearly cracked open from that kick.

Sam faltered just the same, realizing Len's backup was indeed the pretty face he'd dismissed, but Rosa scanned the room again, too quick, working on a plan, Len could tell, so he pulled his gun finally and pointed it at her.

"I don't believe all of you have met Mr. Allen yet. Looks can be deceiving, Sam, and I don't need more than just him and me to take you out, so maybe we need to have a firmer discussion about the easy and hard way this might go down."

Ralph backed away from the standoff, drawing the attention of the remaining goon. This could all unravel too quickly, on a razor's edge with not enough in their favor unless they really started killing people, but what else did Len have to bargain with when Jesse wasn't coming?

Were there too many people for Barry to sing? Could he not risk it with Len and Ralph there? Did Len even want him to? He wasn't sure, but they couldn't take the chance of anyone else finding out what Barry was. He knew the hardness in Barry's eyes was a front, but he also knew that if Len asked him, he'd pull the trigger and take Santini out on his behalf, and Len didn't want that.

"Jesse had a special mission for me," Len said with that same confidence that no one but Barry would be able to see through. "Wanna guess what it was?"

"He knows we've been playing him," Rosa surmised what Len wanted her to with quick eyes and her mind spinning like a top.

"There's still more of us than there are of them," Sam said.

"Not if Jesse knows." She turned to point her gun at Santini's head—"I told you this was a stupid idea"—and fired.

Everything stilled, time suspended, frozen like a picture, until Barry released Santini's body and he dropped dead weight to the floor.

Rosa turned her gun on Sam, allowing Len to point his gun at the final goon. Barry eyed the two on the ground but neither had any intention of causing trouble, so he hurried to Ralph, who was staring wide-eyed at the body like he couldn't look away.

Barry made him look away by tucking him against his shoulder.

The last goon threw his gun on the floor.

"Rosa—" Sam tried.

"Call in Jesse, Snart, if he's not already on his way. He wanted you to off Vinny. Now you have. I'll take your side if you take mine. It was all Sam. I played double agent. I was loyal. Deal?"

"Bitch."

"Right back at ya, baby," she winked at Sam. "Is it a deal, Snart?"

Len couldn't think. He could barely keep his hand from shaking.

"We did this to get away from Jesse's crazy!" Sam cried.

"And how do you think that crazy's gonna play out if he's caught us? Well, you'll find out. Snart! Deal or not?"

Barry cast him a plaintive as if to ask—are you sure?

Len could call the detectives now, couldn't he? Could he? It was such a mess with Ralph there and a body. He didn't know what to do.

So he said, "Deal," and called Jesse as he'd been asked.

He was glad Axel wasn't with when they arrived, but Jesse came himself with Mark and Shawna and some grunts for cleanup. They took the goons and Sam away, who was swearing up a storm at Rosa, but Len played along that he'd planned this with her help and he'd been the one to shoot Santini, even if he was in a daze through it all while Barry continued to hold Ralph.

"Aww, does the youngen need a pick me up?" Jesse headed their direction, but Len grabbed his arm to stop him.

"No flowers tonight, boss. Let me take Ralph home."

Jesse wasn't often sensible minded but he rewarded a job well done. "We'll talk tomorrow. You did good. You too, As You Like It!" he called to Rosa. "As for Ralphy-boy…"

"He's done," Len said. "Figured helping you with Santini would keep you off his back as he's getting older on the streets. He's no runner. He doesn't want to be. He's just a kid."

The next generation was important for people like Jesse, starting loyalty young, having a stock of dispensable grunts to choose from as others got caught or killed, but Len was the hero tonight—even if it was nothing but a lie—and everyone with him was included.

"Pity," Jesse said, "but well earned. You need a favor any time, kiddo, you say the word!"

Ralph barely mustered a shaky nod, not once having slipped far from Barry's side.

Then they were free, while feeling like the farthest thing from it.

Walking back to the apartment, Ralph had never been so quiet in all the time Len had known him. It wasn't all that late by the time they reached home, and his parents wouldn't be in until closer to 3AM.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" he asked numbly.

"Leave a note so your folks don't worry," Len said. "I'll get some extra bedding."

He was surprised by how quickly Ralph fell asleep on the sofa, though the amount of time he'd spent in the bathroom wrenching into the toilet might have had helped. Len placed an extra blanket over him just in case before going to bed with Barry.

Half of Len wanted to throw up too. All these years, he'd never seen someone die right in front of him, always managed to avoid getting his hands that kind of dirty.

Were they dirty now? Was he culpable? What else could he have done?

"What are you going to tell the detectives?" Barry asked as they lay in bed, side by side but staring at the ceiling.

"I don't know. It might have gotten so much bloodier if I'd called them. With Ralph there…"

"You did the right thing."

"Did I?"

Barry's hand moved beneath the covers to find Len's. "I am glad you were not the one to kill him. Tonight, instead, you did everything in your power to save someone."

Only Barry would see it that way, but the sentiment made Len's eyes feel hot. "You sure you made the right call saving me?"

"Every moment I am with you," Barry said with an honest smile.

Len let him snuggle close that night, though it took a long time before they fell asleep.

XXXXX

It was déjà vu the next morning when a knock at the door was what woke Len.

Instantly, he was up and panicking, wondering if it was Santini's side or Jesse having learned the truth and not being happy about it, but the real owner of that heavy knock was worse once Len looked through his peephole to see Rory banging on his door.

They'd found Santini's body. That would have been on purpose, a message from Jesse without any way to point fingers. They wouldn't find Sam's.

"Where were you between the hours of ten and midnight last night?" Rory asked when Len let him inside. Barry stood back in hurriedly put on sweats, while Ralph sat on the sofa still bundled in blankets.

"Here," Len lied. "They can both vouch for that. We were all here, right?"

Barry and Ralph both nodded.

"The hell you pullin', Snart?" Rory growled. "You said—"

"You said you'd trust me," Len hissed at him quietly. "Give me more time."

"Someone's dead."

"You mourning Santini? I'll give you the killer, Mick, but I need time to make sure nothing else blow up in my face. Please." He pulled Rory back closer to the door, speaking as quietly as he could. "They were gonna kill Ralph. I had to think fast. Give me a little more time to sort this out."

Rory was a good man. Rough and not easy to get to know, but he meant well, and he did care about the kids in this neighborhood getting caught up in the mess of warring mobsters. "You realize that was near enough to a confession?"

"It wasn't me who pulled the trigger."

Deep scrutiny stared back at Len, but in the end, Rory sighed. "I got nothing real to bring you in on, but it wouldn't take much for that to change. Clock's ticking, Snart. Don't let me down again."

It felt like a clock had been ticking since Len dropped into the river. He had no idea how to fix this yet, but at least he'd bought himself a little more time.

He ushered Ralph back home. "Take a sick day. Spend time with your folks. Veg on the couch."

"But I—"

"I'll let you know once this is sorted, I'll keep you updated, but I don't want you giving anyone anymore excuses to pull you back in. Got it?"

"Okay. It's really not the worst thing, right?"

"What?"

"That he's dead. He was a bad guy. The worst. And…he was gonna kill me, wasn't he?"

Len saw a lot of nightmares in Ralph's future. He wished he knew how to sooth them. "Sick day. Netflix and comfort food, got it?"

"Yeah. I got it," Ralph said quietly, then thanked Barry with a swift hug betraying his age more than his height ever allowed before he slipped out the door to head home.

XXXXX

Barry had held it together while subduing those men last night, barely a slip of his claws that no one had seen, but he would have killed them all if Len wished it. There was some of the monster in him all the time, but it was further proof of the good in Len that he would never ask that of Barry.

There was nothing to mourn over that Vincent Santini was dead. Who Barry mourned for was Ralph, one so young who, like him and Len, wanted something better for himself but found obstacles at every turn. If they could help him move past this, that would please Barry almost as much as saving Len had. But first they had to see Jesse and keep this house of cards from crumbling.

It was quieter when they entered the club than the first time Barry had been there, and it had been quiet then. No one was hanging in the corners as they entered, just dim lighting and stillness. The first signs of life was Axel coming out of the back, looking frantic and anxious as he pulled out his phone, only to look up with eyes springing wide as if Len was the very person he'd been about to call.

He rushed forward, phone nearly slipping from his fingers in his haste to tackle Len with a hug. "Deal with it," he said when Len tensed at the sudden contact. "Dad told me what happened. Why didn't you call me?"

"We just wanted to sleep when it was over." Len sank slowly into the offered comfort. "And we had to take care of Ralph. He slept on the couch last night."

"Is he okay?"

"Good as a kid can be after seeing his first murder."

They parted, and Barry offered Axel his best smile just in time to be hugged as fiercely in turn.

"Rosa said you kicked some serious ass, Scarlet. Secret mermaid strength?" he whispered in Barry's ear.

"Yes. That I am Len's bodyguard was never a lie."

"What are you gonna do now?" Axel asked once he pulled away.

"Ah, Lenny, there you are," Jesse called from the back. "Gang's all here, I see. Why don't you join us?"

The gang really was all there from what Barry knew. Rosa, Hartley, and the other pair from last night—Shawna and Mark—were all gathered in the back office. Rosa had been giving more of her report of events, which Barry knew made Len anxious since she was hardly trustworthy, but Axel would have warned them if she had said anything to betray them.

Barry passed her a cold stare nonetheless. She was sharp, observant, and shifted under his gaze since she had seen his strength last night.

"Mimosas." Jesse snapped his fingers after sliding behind his desk. "That's what we're missing. It's the AM and we're celebrating, right?"

"No thanks," Len said.

"Ah yes, you don't drink. I forget. What about you? Barry, was it?"

"Barry Allen," Barry said. "And I am fine, thank you."

"You did all the damage, huh?" Jesse sat and propped his feet on the desk. "Heard it's nearly half a dozen Santini men in need of a medic thanks to you by this point. Just where are you hiding the claws and fangs, kid?"

"What?" Barry felt the blood drain from his face.

"It's a joke," Jesse said. "Not too bright huh? Well beauty and brawns is more than enough. If you had brains too, it'd hardly be fair to the rest of us." He dropped his feet again and patted the desktop like playing out a drum beat. "I liked the idea of someone keeping an eye on my little boy's best buddy, so I let your appearance slide, but you're officially part of the crew now. Guess that means we got a new Bruiser to replace Sam."

"I have a better idea," Len spoke up before Barry could.

"Oh?" Jesse drummed a couple more beats. "I'm all a twitter."

"You get neither of us," Len said, like he was making the decision on the spot but still firm in it. "You let Ralph walk away, and I appreciate that. Now it's my turn. I want out."

Snickers tittered through the others, save Axel, who looked unsurprised but somber.

Jesse gave three single pats of the desk in succession. "Okay."

"Okay? Just like that?" Len questioned.

"Well, no." Jesse rolled his eyes dramatically, rolling out of his chair and around the desk again like he never sat still for long. "You can be out, Lenny, but only after the dust settles. See, Vinny was the lead man, but his brother is still around, as you know. They'll be weaker for sure, but there could still be a war brewing. And considering the way Rosalind here talked up your boy, we could use the extra muscle, make sure Frankie plays nice when he takes over. You help us usher in a peaceful transition, you can both go your merry ways." He flourished his hand in the direction of elsewhere and leaned back on the desk.

Judging by Len's haunted expression, managing a peaceful transition with Santini's brother would not be easy, of course it would not be, since everyone would be saying Len killed his brother.

"Take a day," Jesse said. "Think about it. It's a nice offer for you both. You try running off too soon, things could get…sticky. I don't like sticky. It's like licking cotton candy off your fingers. You can't go back to normal after that. You have to wash your hands or you'll lose your mind." He laughed as if quite literally unhinged himself. "You understand."

"Dad, you will let Lenny out if he helps though, right?" Axel spoke quietly. "And Barry?"

"You have my word," Jesse said with a hand held over his heart like a promise.

XXXXX

The walk back to the apartment had never felt as stiff or cold, maybe because of the weather, overcast today and chilly, but also because there was a sense of two steps forward and three steps back.

At least the look Axel had given Len before they left said more than enough that he held no resentment for Len wanting out of that life which Axel would still be a part of. It did not mean they could no longer be friends, just that their circles would diverge.

As they neared the shop on the corner that was empty, Len's steps slowed. It looked quite dark and barren now, save the sign in the window that said FOR LEASE.

"I do not understand enough about how money works here," Barry said, "but you do not have enough to buy the shop, is that it?"

"I was hoping to get a loan," Len said, then explained further. "Have a bank give me what I need with the promise that I'd pay them back as I made enough. But see banks don't trust criminals, even if they are trying to go straight."

"They will not give you a loan?"

"No. They expect collateral, a positive rep, no B&Es on record, things like that. Honestly, if someone has good enough credit and no red flags, that'd be enough. I got a lot of red flags. Come on." Len picked up his pace to pass the building quickly. "We didn't get enough sleep last night, and I don't feel like being out anymore."

"Sick day? Like Ralph?"

"Yeah." Len smiled, sad though it may be. "Let's take a sick day."

They did not make it all the way to Len's door before being interrupted, though it was merely running into Miss Maggie.

"Hey, Maggie," Len said, taking the basket of laundry from her without being asked to finish carrying it to her door. "Feeling better?"

"Look at you being a gentleman," she said. "I am. Sounds like Ralph caught my bug though. Poor thing's stuck inside today. At least Mai managed to avoid it. She's watching her cartoons while I finish some chores. What about you two? You look like hell, Leonard. You didn't catch my cold too?"

"Might just have, Maggie. Too much time around those kids."

"Pfft. As if you don't love it. Best kind of kids to have are the ones you can give back come the end of the day."

Len snorted at that, and Barry had to chuckle too. It couldn't dismiss the shadows from Len's eyes though, and Maggie noticed once they reached her door and she took the laundry back from him.

"You're in trouble again."

"Maggie…"

"Why do you have to go and pull this boy into the muck with you?" She nodded at Barry. "I thought he was pulling you out?"

"It's not like that," Len said. "All I've been doing is trying to get out. It's the ones doing the real damage who keep pulling me back in."

"So stop letting 'em," she said. "Stop compromising or soon you're gonna run out of things to bargain with. You keep him honest, Barry. Let the bad apples pay for being rotten. Don't go getting rotten with 'em."

"Easy for her to say," Len said once they slipped back into the apartment. He fell against it, forehead pressing to the wood.

Barry took his arm and gently tugged him away, drawing him toward the sofa. "Come," he said, and sat, urging Len to lie down and rest his head in his lap. Soothingly, he stroked his fingernails over Len's scalp until he relaxed and closed his eyes. "Rest. This could be good. A peaceful transition is a worthy cause to assist Jesse with."

"If he means it," Len said. "And if Frank Santini allows it. I still don't know what to do about Rory. I promised him someone to put away, and instead he got a body bag. He won't let that slide forever. I have to figure out something that saves us, gives the detectives what they want, and keeps Jesse from becoming my enemy. I don't know if it's possible to have all three."

Barry, of course, had a fourth item he desired, but now was hardly the time to push for a vow of love.

Len did sleep for a while, and Barry might have dozed off as well. They had their lazy sick day, eating and watching TV and lying about. Maybe it was because of how tired Len was, how sorrowful, that he began digging through his cabinets in the afternoon and exclaimed success only after he found everything he had been looking for.

"What are you going to make?" Barry asked.

"Chocolate chip cookies. My mama's recipe."

"Oh?" Barry had always wanted to try those. It seemed they were magical confections with how they were spoken of in human customs.

"Technically, it's just the recipe off the back of butter-flavored Crisco packages, but they always turned out best when Mama made them."

"What was your mother like?" Barry asked, since he had heard very little about Len's family.

"Sad," Len said. "But kind. I don't remember her much, to be honest. Just…her smile, her voice, especially her voice singing, and warm cookies on a cold day. Don't know how a sorry excuse like my father snagged her. She died when I was young. Chronic heart trouble. Genetic thing I don't have, so don't worry. Sometimes I thought she was lucky though, getting out early, getting away from my old man. What about you? Good things, I mean, before your parents were gone?"

Barry watched Len with rapt attention as he made the dough for the cookie batter. "My parents were very much in love, and very dearly loved me. We lived the furthest from the colony of anyone. They preferred it that way, as did I. They were skilled hunters but never cruel with what they caught. They would help the injured, my father especially, which was against our ways. The injured are considered weak. They should be culled to thin the herd. But if my father found any of our kin or another creature not fit to be food, he would help them."

"Can't you just heal yourselves the way you healed my hand that time?"

"Most things, yes. But to heal ourselves, we need energy. Too deep a wound takes too much and can require another of our kind to take pity."

"And pity isn't the merfolk way."

"It is not."

"Your father was like a doctor then?"

"I suppose he was," Barry said with a smile. "And my mother a teacher. She would show the children she found playing near us clever ways of catching food without causing suffering, or tricks to escape nets and other human trappings. She enjoyed human culture like I do and ventured close to shore often. She taught me the start of many languages, to understand when I hear them and to read. I learned much on my own later, but the passion for it started with her."

"You can't be the only good merfolk out there," Len said. "There have to be others who think like your parents did."

"Perhaps. But to change a culture's ways is not easy. Even the cruelest practices can be seen as natural and necessary when you know it all your life."

Len was quiet for a bit, but some of the shadows had fallen when he looked at Barry again and smiled. "I bet your parents were as beautiful as you are."

That made Barry blush and grin and feel very warm inside, though Len knew not what he spoke of.

"I bet they'd be proud of you," Len added, spooning drops of chocolate-speckled batter onto a pan.

"Shall we see if your mother would be proud of these cookies?" Barry teased, stealing a finger full of batter from the bowl. It was lovely and it had not even been baked yet.

"Ten minutes in the oven," Len said.

Once they were ready, Barry could not decide if he preferred Miss Maggie's brownies or Len's cookies best, because both were ambrosia, so different from anything he had known in the water. Certainly, Len's mother would be proud, and he told him as much.

"I hope I can make her proud of more than just my baking someday."

"You will."

They were halfway through a second cookie each when a loud voice reached them from outside the door, coming from down the hall. It took them a moment of pausing and listening close to realize it was Ralph.

They both threw down their cookies and dashed for the door, rushing into the hall and down it toward Ralph's apartment where they could see him leaning out his doorway yelling at Rosa.

"Leave me alone!" he cried, before Rosa noticed them, and then Ralph turned and saw them too with a surge of hope in his eyes to once again be rescued. His parents would be gone to work by now, so late in the afternoon. Perhaps Rosa had known that too and chose now to accost him.

"You heard the kid," Len said. "He's not gonna rat you out."

"Pretty sure he got into this mess because he ratted someone out."

Len leaned into her space. "And once a traitor, always a traitor?" he said as a purposeful threat of her own lacking loyalty. "Leave him alone. He's out. Trust me, he doesn't want anything more to do with you."

"I'm just making sure it stays that way," she said snidely back, so Barry stepped forward next, offering that same cold stare he had given her in the club. She took an immediate step back. "Be good, Ralphy-boy, and you'll never see me again." She twirled her fingers in a wave and turned around to head for the stairs.

She would have fit in well with Barry's kin. She only cared about herself.

"Ralph?" Len said after she had gone.

"I'm fine," Ralph said, though he did not look fine, arms crossed tight over his T-shirt-clad middle, eyes downcast. "She really was just ragging me about not telling anyone what really happened. I wouldn't." He glanced up at Len heartfeltly. "But she's right. I ratted out you. I never should have said your name. I'm just as bad as—"

"Hey." Len reached for Ralph's neck and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It doesn't matter. They had you scared. They still do. And I'm fine. I'm gonna be fine. All you need to worry about is taking a breath and enjoying your sick day. Order a pizza or Chinese or something for dinner—on me."

"Can I…come back to your place again tonight?" he asked tentatively, already inching out of his doorway, not wanting to go back inside an empty apartment.

"Sure, kid," Len said, and Barry smiled his agreement. They had an entire batch of cookies to share, after all.

While Ralph looked over Len's takeout menus to decide on dinner, Barry pulled Len aside. "She is the lowest in my mind. She betrayed her own, her lover, and is willing to sacrifice even a child for herself. And she is going to get away with murder."

"Maybe," he said thoughtfully, the cleverness Barry loved so much in him shimmering in his eyes like the beginnings of a plan forming. "I need to think, but tomorrow, we're gonna see Jesse again. Rosa gave me an idea."

XXXXX

There was hope in their steps on the way to Jesse's club the next morning that had been absent along the same path the day before. Even more exciting was the text message Barry received.

I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna ask Hartley out. I told him to come to the club this morning. You guys are coming, right?

We are on our way now, Barry texted back.

I so need the moral support! But I'm ready.

Barry showed Len the messages as they stopped at the final crosswalk.

"How exciting. You see? There are still good things in this world."

"Yeah, or maybe so much bad that Axel's scared he'll miss his chance if he doesn't live in the moment."

"It is wise to live in the moment," Barry agreed, "but not so pessimistically. One simply never knows what might happen next."

The explosion that shook the block, erupting from the very club they had been headed toward, was certainly the last thing Barry expected as he and Len were thrown to the ground.

TBC...