He found Barry sitting on the steps in front of his door. Barry Allen, not The Flash. Blue jeans, worn sneakers, crew-neck sweater that was a little too big on him.
Snart raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Barry held up a large bag of food like it was an offering, and maybe it was. The smile on his lips was a mixture of hopeful and apologetic. With a mocking, put-upon sigh, accompanied by half an eyeroll, Len let the other man in. Barry followed him silently.
"Do I want to know how you found my place?" Len asked coolly.
He had moved since their last encounter. Snart hadn't deemed it safe to stay where The Flash knew he might be, might come back to for one reason or another. While he hadn't exactly kept his nose clean, Len had kept a very low profile while on a job, hitting places where surveillance was either so bad you wouldn't be able to tell whether it was a man or gorilla breaking in, or fake.
It got him a little smile. "Better not."
"Hope you didn't tag me."
"I didn't."
He felt the little jitters emanating from the other man. They seemed to flit around him, seek him out, and Snart let him in. Not just physically, into his current residence, but also on a very different level.
"So, what brings you here?" Len asked, the tension between his own shoulder blades only slowly abating.
"I… kinda wanted to say thanks."
He raised his eyebrows.
"For helping."
"I didn't help you with anything, Scarlet. I happened to be in the neighborhood to see the bumbling kid trying to rob a corner store. I like that store. Their coffee is the best in the neighborhood. Those chain stores all taste the same."
Barry shifted a little. "I wasn't talking about that. But thanks for the assist there, too."
Len bristled. "I do not assist. I'm not your side-kick, Flash."
"No. No, you're not." The younger man scratched the back of his neck, then exhaled sharply as if he had had to find the courage to keep going. "You could have left me back there. In the warehouse after Scattershot got me."
"There you go with the silly names again. Let me guess: Cisco?" he drawled, smirking.
Barry grimaced. "I'm trying to thank you here!"
"Why? Feel like you owe me one?"
"No!"
"You might, though." Len's face gave nothing away as he studied the younger man. "Your suit was shot. So were you. I could have left you back there for your team to maybe find and maybe I should have. That way I wouldn't be out four pizzas and a year's worth of bandages and antibacterial spray," he stated levelly.
Barry's tension suddenly eased, as if the words had pulled a plug, and Len was astounded by the smile he got. "Good thing I brought payback then."
"A sandwich." Len didn't even make it a question. He was too mystified by the smile, by the change.
Barry finally sat down, looking a little less like he was about to snap from the strain he was clearly under. He deposited the food on the table and dug around, pulling out a footlong sandwich that probably contained every ingredient the sub shop had had on offer. An assortment of chips followed, as well as a dozen cookies.
Len raised his eyebrows at the food, the normalcy the whole thing evoked. "Bad week?" he asked, putting a little sardonic edge to the question. "Because that looks like someone's stress eating."
It got him a half-hearted shrug as Barry unwrapped the sandwich. He took a bite. "Aren't you the one monitoring my every move?"
"I'm not your stalker, Scarlet. And don't talk with your mouth full."
"Not my stalker?" Barry dared to chuckle. "Really." He didn't even make it a question.
Len gave him a sharp grin. There was a devilish glint in his eyes.
He took the offered second sandwich. A nasty part inside his mind reminded him that he had no idea whether or not it had been laced with something. Another, much larger part silenced the doubt and distrust.
Because he knew he could trust the speedster.
"Not that you see me half the time anyway."
Barry's eyes lit up, humor and the acceptance of a challenge. "So maybe I should keep my senses out for you from now on. See if I can spot you. Or hear you."
He scowled at him. "You better keep those senses trained on your opponent. Everything else more often than not gets you almost killed. I won't always be there to save your ass, Scarlet."
"My senses are fine," Scarlet argued. "And I can take care of myself!"
"Debatable."
"I don't need a babysitter. Especially you!" Barry's indignation was almost funny.
"Oh? Do tell. You don't know who is around you. You go into a new environment almost blind. You don't case it, you just run in blind. You have the time to check, you have the speed, the control over fast and slow, Barry," Len reminded him, voice flat. "Use that ability. Don't be just The Flash. You are a Sentinel, too. You have an edge some metas can't predict or even work with. You have five hypersenses on top of your speed. You don't tap into that. You haven't used that edge for a single confrontation!"
"You sound like someone else I know," Barry muttered, looking slightly miffed.
"Another one to read you the riot act on how you so carelessly run into any given situation? Why am I not surprised?" Len smirked. "Listen to your elders." He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Might get you out in one piece instead. Or are you afraid you might just accidentally zone after all? That there is no perfect loop, no perfect Sentinel?" The last was a vicious little poke, softened by his smile.
It got him a scowl. "Nothing is ever perfect, but I really can't zone. It's the loop. I don't need to balance my senses on a Guide or through meditation. At least that's what Dr. Wells says."
"Because the man bearing the name Harrison Wells is such a trustworthy character to begin with. Tell me, Barry, what else did he tell you? How else could he have manipulated you? How many lies are there?"
Cheap shot. He knew it was an absolutely cheap shot. Barry stilled, face blank, but his eyes blazed.
"Drop it," he whispered.
"I'm not a Guide, kid, but even I can see how ragged you look sometimes," Snart added for good measure.
He was aware he had driven his point home, but a part of him twisted uncomfortably. There was suddenly an energy around the kid, this weird electrical discharge he had noticed before, that wasn't truly there and yet he felt it. It was at the edge of his perception, powerful and extremely dangerous.
Barry's face closed off completely. "I'm fine."
"Keep telling yourself that, Scarlet. Or are they telling you that?"
Yep, he was shooting with live ammo now.
"I've been dealing with my senses for a lot longer than I've been The Flash!" he younger man snapped. "I have been dealing with them on top of being The Flash for almost three years now! I don't zone, I don't get spikes, and I'm fine!"
There was a brief crackle of lightning in those intense eyes.
Len smiled humorlessly, lips twisting into more of a grimace. "Sure."
Barry glared at him.
"Why don't you use your god-given gifts then?"
"I don't need them!"
"Enhanced sight? Very acute hearing? An amazingly sensitive touch? Even scent and taste can be helpful chasing meta criminals. No that I want to give you an edge, Scarlet, but you need all the edge you can get," he pointed out.
"I. Am. Fine."
Again, another surge. So very much like the first time he had witnessed it. A surge not connected to his Sentinel side, but manifesting like one. It touched something very deep inside Snart, something that shivered and curled closer to the surface. It pulsed and trembled, and he froze as the sensation intensified, as he felt the pull toward the clearly distraught man.
"You are far from fine, kid. Why are you here if you don't want to hide how you're not dealing with it all from your so-called team?" Len growled, more vitriol in his words than he had actually planned. "Do they know about our little meet-up? Did you tell them I dragged your sorry hide out of that warehouse and patched you up? Do they know you trusted me enough to fall asleep on my couch?"
The last should have been mocking, but the tone of voice just didn't want to come. Len held the burning eyes, read the multitude of emotions in them.
He felt a sudden surge of something he couldn't yet put a name on. And his own defenses snapped into place, putting a stop to whatever this was.
"Do you even trust them anymore, Scarlet?"
"I do," he hissed.
"All of them?"
"Yes!"
"Even Harrison Wells?" he demanded.
"He's not…" Barry exhaled sharply. "He wasn't Harrison Wells. Wells is dead. Both of them."
Snart's eyebrows rose.
"It's complicated. He wasn't…" Barry broke off. "Back then… he wasn't lying to me. That came later."
Something about that wasn't completely right. Something didn't sit well with him.
Snart let it slide.´
"So you trust your team," he stated.
"Yes."
"Not enough it seems."
"Snart…"
Yes, that was another warning. Len simply raised an eyebrow and turned to his sandwich. He went over the new information, watching as Barry finished off everything in the bag. The younger man leaned back, looking exhausted. Not physically, on a deeper level, away from overtaxed senses. It wasn't something Len could really put a name on.
Barry closed his eyes for a moment. His fingertips dug into his temples, massaging them briefly, then scraped them over his head. A soft breath escaped his lips, so very much like a Sentinel balancing his senses and yet he didn't do it.
Len suddenly felt this thing between them again, like fine tendrils of a frayed net, touching him, caressing him, seeking his steady, cool and always under control core as an anchor.
Snart froze, eyes going wide as for a blink of an eye he was looking at the Speed Force; really looking at it. He, a very much not meta human. And he knew it was the Speed Force because his time in the Time Stream had taught him a thing or two about concepts and reality.
And then it was gone.
"Fuck…" he breathed.
Green eyes met blue and Barry stared at him, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. He had felt it, too.
"I… You… You're…? Snart, what the hell?"
"Don't even think it, Scarlet!" he snapped, irrational anger surging forward. "I'm no one's crutch or some other Guide crap!"
"I'm not looking for that! I never did! I couldn't, even if I wanted to!"
"Then why are you really here?!" he demanded, furious.
"Because you are quietness!" Barry yelled, suddenly wide open and radiating nothing but the truth.
He stared at him.
"You are quietness," Barry repeated, voice shaking, his whole form trembling. "The pressure is gone. Not my senses; they're still all there. Just... everything else."
Len knew he was still staring; hard. His eyes bore into Barry Allen's. He knew he had no powers. He wasn't a metahuman, he hadn't been born with empathic abilities. The multiple tests had been abysmal and nowhere near even a low-level Guide.
"I'm what," he repeated flatly.
"Quiet. Calm."
"Control?" he sneered.
Barry gave a tentative shrug. "Maybe?"
"So… a crutch."
"No!"
Len had always relied on himself. He had kept himself as safe as possible. He had never needed anyone else and it had always been absolutely fine. He had protected his sister, he had looked out for her. He had had a partnership with Mick. Aside from all that, no ties, no strings, no connections.
The thrum was back.
And still… still he and Barry had drifted together, enjoyed riling the other up, wanted the thrill of the chase and the comforting routine of their encounters. A well-played act. An acted-out play.
It was them.
Because there was something inside Len that resonated ever so softly with whatever the freaking fuck Barry Allen was, aside from way too handsome, too innocent, too perfect. And too unattainable.
Yet, he had agreed to change his ways. To use non-lethal force. Because Scarlet had asked him to. Because The Flash had given him a chance. Because Barry Allen was a kind and generous soul.
"I'm not your rescue ranger or your Agony Aunt, Scarlet," he managed. "You want a shoulder to cry on, go to your friends! I won't be the stand-in!"
The moment he said it, Len knew it was a lie. He just knew.
"I didn't come here for that! I just…" Barry broke off, shaking his head. He looked confused and angry in one.
Len felt it again, that weird energy, so much like the Time Stream and then again not. The Speed Force was lingering around its speedster and it was bearing down on him with unrelenting force. It was a force Len was only too familiar with, one he had weathered, one that had flown through him for what felt like eternity.
Now it seemed to size him up like a freaky bird of prey.
A tremor passed through him.
"Get out."
"Len…"
"Get. Out."
Barry looked like he wanted to say something, to argue, to ask, but then the speedster was gone in a flurry of yellow lightning.
Len stared at the spot he had been in a second ago, a raw, harsh sounding laugh leaving his throat.
Around him, there was quiet.
He couldn't stop replaying the moment over and over, hearing his words, hearing Barry's words. His own words.
The lies.
It had all been lies.
And the pull was still there. As was the realization that he was aware of the Speed Force, like he had been aware of the Time Stream when he had existed within the eternal energy force. Leonard Snart had gone through too much crazy and weird, had seen too many impossible things, to be impressed or even terrified of it. It was a kind of fascination, he was intrigued that he would be able to perceive what powered his speedster. What left him a little off balance was how the Speed Force's unraveled tendrils of energy had reached for him once again. Toward what Barry had called quietness, toward what the younger man had come here for.
It had been the Time Stream all over again, without the prior self-sacrifice and being blown to pieces. This time it included Barry Allen. This time it was Scarlet asking for his help, without actually saying the words. The meta Sentinel needed something and he wasn't really aware of it.
Len angrily tossed one of his tools onto the work bench. "Fuck!" he hissed.