He had seen The Flash getting hurt before. Seriously, seriously hurt. Even by his own hands, well, gun, though that had been a long, long time ago. The Flash had been beaten, shot, stabbed, iced or roasted by heat, had been psychically attacked, suffocated, had had his bones broken, and so much more. It shouldn't terrify him to see the kid so unresponsive as much as it did right now.

It was different this time. This person wasn't just The Flash. He wasn't just Barry Allen. He was more than a business arrangement or a deal. Len felt a connection, something from deep inside, from the walled off part of his wounded soul. He had let Scarlet in, had let Barry in, and he worried and he… cared. He was also hellishly protective.

Now he was here, inside S.T.A.R. labs, looking into an isolation room, and he was terrified. The Flash had been hit by something intentionally built to kill metas.

Yes, terrified was a good state to be in right now, Snart decided. Not for his own safety. It was about Barry.

He didn't show it, his mask of indifference firmly in place, even though there was no one watching him. He also felt far from indifferent. He hadn't been able to turn away from Barry Allen for a while now. Actually, a very long time.

The door behind him closed softly, with barely a hissed, and yet there was a loudness and a finality to that noise that had Len freeze for a fraction of a second.

They were alone. No cameras, no speakers, no microphones.

There was minute movement and Barry's breathing quickened. He started to move, hands twitching, eyes rolling behind closed lids.

Len inspected the room as he approached the seemingly unconscious figure. Barry was dressed in S.T.A.R. Labs issue sweatpants, dark blue with the white logo, and his upper body was swathed in bandages that showed flecks of blood. There was no IV or any kind of monitoring device attached to him.

"Hello, Barry," he said, voice low, calm.

The green eyes shot open and suddenly the speedster was off the ground and in another corner of the room. His whole body was blurred at the edges.

"Who…" he rasped. "Who are you?"

Ah. The amnesia. And damn, the kid was fast!

"I'm Len. You know me." Perfect pitch. No aggression, just calmness. His whole posture was non-threatening.

"I… I…" He curled in on himself, arm wrapped protectively around his abdomen.

"You are injured, Barry."

His head suddenly came up, yellow lightning in his eyes. "Snart! You!"

And then something hit Len with such force, it winded him. He was thrown over the bed and landed hard on the floor, gasping for air.

"That's gonna bruise," he whispered harshly. "Damnit, Scarlet!"

"What did you do to me, Cold?!" Barry demanded, voice shaking. "Where are we? What's going on?"

He grabbed Snart and hauled him off the ground, slamming him into the wall. The back of Len's head connected sharply. Yep, the kid was freakishly strong and fast. Even in this seriously dangerous to his health condition, The Flash was an opponent to be reckoned with.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Barry," Len said, sounding a bit strangled to his own ears. "I came to help."

"Lies!"

"I haven't lied to you in a very long time."

There was a moment of indecision, then Barry groaned and let go of him, flashing over to the opposite side of the room. He apparently had no concept of how to brake and collided with a sickening sound of a body slamming into a wall.

"Fuck, Scarlet, stop doing that to yourself!" Snart growled, catching his breath, head still ringing from the impact with the wall.

"What happened to me?" the younger man groaned. "I can't think. It hurts. Where…" His eyes were on Len again. "Who are you?"

Oh great. Snart started to understand just what the team had been going on about. Amnesia, leading to a combative Flash, coupled with irrational behavior, spurts of memories, then total loss again. And the way Barry was running into walls, yes, Len could see where it would be a very bad idea if he started to phase through them.

And they believed Leonard Snart could get him to pull his fragmented self together? By being in the same room with him. Len was starting to think that his primary plan wasn't working. In the past it had been enough, to give the speedster a form of anchor he hadn't been aware of needing, one Snart hadn't been aware of truly giving.

Wasn't working this time.

Because of the disruptor.

He went through the facts in his head, aching mind racing to formulate a new plan, and it was quickly very much apparent that there was only one thing that might work, that might get Barry to pull himself together.

"The things I do for you, kid," he murmured.

At his words, Barry pushed himself upright, looking wary. "Cold?! What… Why are you here?" His eyes darted around the room. "Where am I? Why am I locked in with you?"

Here we go again. Len held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Your team called me. You're in isolation."

Barry's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Why are you in isolation?" he drawled, pitching his voice into the perfect mixture of indifference and mockery, giving Barry something to focus on. Something he knew. "Because you are a little bit out of control. As for why am I here? Seems like I'm needed."

The suspicious expression didn't change. Len slowly pulled off his gloves, each move measured and controlled. He then slipped out of his jacket, revealing the dark gray Henley underneath. He held up his hands.

"I'm unarmed, Barry. No gun, no tricks. I won't hurt you." Snart started to drop his voice into a softer variation. "I can help."

"How can I trust you?" he demanded.

"You have in the past."

"You betrayed me!"

He shrugged as if he didn't care. "Yeah, I have to give you that. I did. It's the past. It's not what we are now."

Barry was shaking, blurring again. "You tried to kill me! Why am I in here with you? I need to get out!

No one would have been fast enough to stop the speedster as he made a dash for the door, again colliding hard with the unforgiving metal. The barrier would hold him, no matter how hard he tried.

With a cry of pain, Barry fell to the ground. Len's face was drawn in shared pain. The younger man suddenly blinked, one hand going to his head, then he groaned.

"Len?"

"Yes, Scarlet, it's me. You know you can trust me not to hurt you now," Len cajoled, approaching.

Barry slid down the wall, making a soft noise that was a mixture of confusion and pain.

"We've done this before, you and me. You can trust me. Just breathe, Scarlet. Breathe."

His voice had dropped lower and lower, almost hypnotic. He wasn't a Guide and Barry didn't need one, but it seemed to work nevertheless.

"It's not an ideal place. I would have preferred yours."

"You know where I live?" Barry breathed.

Fuck the amnesia, Snart thought viciously.

"Yes."

"How… how did you get my address?"

"I know who you are, Barry."

Barry swallowed, looking panicky for a moment. "You know my name. How do you know my name?!"

"Your identity is safe with me. I know who you are and I never told anyone," he murmured. "My word. You have my word and I kept it. No one knows. Only me."

The speedster whimpered and screwed his eyes shut.

He was almost there. Len crouched down beside the crumbled figure. He reached out, curled his ungloved fingers around Barry's wrist and for a moment the other man quieted down. His shoulders sagged and he exhaled sharply as if that touch alone had flipped a switch.

"There you go," Snart said calmly. "We've done this before. You have. Actually, you do it all the time, though with less touching."

Barry's his eyes flew open, barely focusing. Snart had no idea how the younger man did it, but the next moment Len was flat on his back on the floor, his wrists in a vice-like hold, and Allen above him.

This was bad.

Really, really bad.

The bruises screamed at him and he almost hissed in pain as those very strong fingers tightened enough that he feared he might crack a wrist bone or two. Barry's expression was almost… feral. The eyes were lit up with lightning, lips pulled back from his teeth, and it would have been fitting and not really surprising if he had growled.

He wasn't growling.

Actually, he didn't make a noise at all.

Around them, the Speed Force manifested like a wraith, screeching silently, lashing out and weaving in and out of existence. It was wild, absolutely primal, seeking its speedster and unable to connect as it had been. The disruptor charge had seriously scrambled Barry's ability to channel the immense energy.

It should be disconcerting to be able to feel this, to almost see it. Somehow it wasn't.

"Scarlet…" Len wheezed.

Barry shuddered.

The physical contact between them was like a conduit. The touch was real, grounding. It was deeper than skin on skin. It seeped into his very cells. It was power. A lot of uncontrolled, wild power. It was an abyss, endless, unchained, rising and falling in uneven waves. It was everywhere, following no lead, had no channels, and it felt desperate. It was lashing out, seeking an anchoring point, finding none.

The Speed Force was coming apart, shredding itself to pieces, and it was taking Barry Allen with it. His hyperhealing was trying to rectify the damage done by the disruptor, but the uncontrolled Speed Force undid everything Barry's body was managing on its own. It wasn't malicious, it didn't want to harm, but it was seriously off balance.

Suddenly it touched Len's mind. Len's so very much not-Guide mind. A mind that wasn't empathically inclined, that was ruthless, cold, clinical and under tight control. It was everything the vortex churning underneath Barry's skin needed; everything the Speed Force needed. It was everywhere. It was sheer destructive power. It was absolutely, insanely… there. All in this one man. Snart felt something between them rise, like a tidal wave that would swallow him and sweep him away.

He didn't fight it. And the Speed Force slammed into the man.

There was no pain. There was no sensation of discomfort at all. It took his control into itself and became… manageable. It was wild, untamed and yet controlled. A contradiction in terms, but so very true. Len let it roll over him and take him down, tear into him, painless and still so invasive, and he weathered the storm. His mind caught the vortex, wrapped it into a shield of utter control. The acidic burn of the endlessly roiling mass didn't touch him. It slid over the smooth surface of the shield, turned into a hum, almost a purr.

Follow my lead. Trust me, a voice whispered and he thought it sounded like him. You'll be fine. I've got you. You're safe.

The shield was there, unwavering, smooth and still dangerously sharp.

The tension between them broke with an almost audible crack and reality slammed back, with the full weight of his speedster still on his seriously bruised ribs.

"Aw, crap, Scarlet," Len hissed, drawing air sharply. "Ouch!"

The lit-up eyes blinked back into green and the other man's face shifted into a frown. "…Len…?"

This time it sounded real. This time there was true recognition.

He cocked an eyebrow. "The one and only."

Barry still held his wrists, but the pressure eased somewhat. "What…?"

"You got zapped. Something scrambled your brain and the rest of you, too," Snart said sharply. "And your knee is digging into my ribs."

Another confused blink. The grip on Len's wrists was gone. "What?"

"Knee. Ribs. And you're heavy."

A shudder passed through the lean frame. It was like Barry's brain was trying to wrap itself around the facts presented to it and failing.

"I…" He suddenly bent over with a soft groan.

"Scarlet?"

"I don't feel so good."

Barry curled an arm around his midsection and sank to one side, sliding off the other man. Tremors raced through him and for a moment the blurring effect took root.

"Shit, shit, shit," Snart muttered and reached for the younger man. The moment they connected, the blurring stopped and Barry groaned in relief.

He carefully pulled him close, disregarding the uncomfortably hard and unforgiving floor. He had spent many nights on floors. This wasn't a first. What was a first was having Barry Allen in his arms.

"Hey, Scarlet? Talk to me!" he murmured.

"What do you want me to tell you?" Barry whispered, voice filled with pain. "That it feels like my insides are trying to get out?"

"Not in detail, but yeah. You think you can get up? Into bed?"

Barry's eyes were screwed shut and his breathing was labored, like he was fighting the pain. The muscles in his shoulders and neck stood out sharply and Len carefully touched one cool cheek.

"Barry," he cajoled. "I need to get you off the floor."

The other man nodded, moving weakly.

It was almost too much and Len hated to hurt him so badly, but he finally had Barry on the bed, curled up on his side, eyes still screwed shut. He carefully touched the arm protecting the injury, curling a light grip around the slender wrist.

"Let me see?"

There was a long moment of indecision. The still too glassy green eyes were filled with warring emotions, Barry's scrambled brain fighting the old, no longer true memories.

"I won't hurt you, Barry. You know it," he added, voice calm and sure. "I just want to make sure you're doing okay."

Looking at the blood-soaked bandages, Len knew the younger man wasn't okay. He was still very far from okay. He gently squeezed the wrist.

Finally Barry nodded. Snart peeled off the messy bandages and grimaced. Underneath he found an even bigger mess of more blood and raw skin. It didn't look like Barry had been mauled by a bear, but it was bad enough. Not fresh, not yet scarred either, but somewhere in the middle. In a normal human being it would be two weeks down the road of a long healing process, but with Barry Allen it had been fifteen long minutes of calming the speedster down.

"You're healing," he murmured.

"Always do," Barry whispered, sounding exhausted and still in pain. "Always. Three hours for broken bones. Five hours for third degree frost bite to look like carpet burn. Damn, that hurt like a bitch. Slowed down my healing."

He hadn't known that. Especially about the time he had hit The Flash full on with the cold gun. Len chuckled wryly, humorlessly.

"Yeah. Nothing mundane like that this time. The disruptor did a number on your system. Seems like it shot the Speed Force out of alignment as well. You're fighting a battle on all fronts, Barry."

As if on cue, the blurring ripped a cry of pain out of the speedster. Len grabbed his wrist again and suddenly Barry held on to him like there was no tomorrow. He helped him ride out the pain, worry doubling again.

"Hey," he murmured when the green eyes opened, reflecting exhaustion.

"Hey," was the equally soft reply. "You're here. Uhm, why are you here?"

Definitely a scrambled brain. At least he recognized Len and remembered they were on the same side.

"I was in the neighborhood," he quipped.

Barry's smile was so faint, he nearly missed it. "You broke into S.T.A.R. Labs?""

"Not this time, no." He looked around the isolation room and found no sign of any more bandaging material. He should have come with a first aid kit, Snart thought darkly. "The security of this place is atrocious, though. As is the room service."

"Kit's behind the wall panel," Barry mumbled.

"Which wall panel?"

Tired eyes roamed the room, then he gestured toward a square next to the door. Snart hated to lose the physical connection to the speedster, but he needed to get the kit. Thankfully Barry didn't start blurring or flashing again, but he did faintly protest the removal of all soaked bandages as it hurt to move.

When he was done, Len helped the other man lower himself back onto the bed.

"Thanks. You didn't have to do this."

"I did," he said quietly, no sarcasm, no mockery. "And you're welcome. Don't make it a habit. I'm not your rescue ranger."

The young face, so very pale and drawn, lit up with one of Barry's softer smiles, though it was a faint imitation of the real thing. A burst of affection ran through Len's mind and he shivered, feeling so much he had never thought he could.

"Put it on my tab."

He chuckled.

"This one's on the house."

Barry closed his eyes, expression tightening.

"Still in pain?"

"Nauseous. Headache. Not normal."

"Nothing about you is," he quipped.

Scarlet was silent for a long time, just laying against him, breathing, shivering now and then. Snart had located a blanket and covered him, but the shivers were more an echo of the uncontrolled Speed Force than feeling cold. Len might have been able to calm the raging forces in the past, but this was a lot more serious. It took time. It took a physical closeness that hadn't been required before. Touch helped even out the spikes and Len didn't really mind that part. He hated the fact that there was no way to alleviate the pain, though.

"We're alone?" Barry murmured after a while.

"Perceptive as ever," he sighed, looking around the room again. Nothing much to see and nothing had changed. "We're in isolation down in the Pipeline. No one's watching." At Barry's frown he added, "You were completely out of it when they got you here. When you were lucid, you fought everyone. Bled a lot all over the floor, too."

"Oh."

"Get some rest. Snow will be poking and prodding at you in no time."

"Fun." He yawned. "Stay?"

As if they could get him to leave now, Snart thought with a vicious possessiveness that surprised even him.

"Yes," he said out loud. "I'm staying."

"Thanks," came the soft whisper.

"Don't make it a regular thing, Scarlet. That's all I ask."

"Not planning to."

Silence fell. Len watched as Barry tried to get comfortable, shivers racing over his form now and then. He could almost see the Speed Force crawling along the edges of his perception, swaying around the speedster, brushing against Len as if trying to rope him in.

Barry had curled up, still looking uncomfortable and pained. The moment he brushed his hand along the naked arm, the tense muscles relaxed. He could feel the Speed Force settled around them like a freaky blanket, quiet and content. He saw eddies of it curl toward him, brushing over his limbs like a freakish pet wanting attention and scratches.

"You've got to be kidding me," he murmured.

It got him a quizzical noise.

"Looks like you're a little touch-starved, Scarlet. Well, your Speed Force is."

"What…?"

He patted the arm closest to him. "You really are high maintenance."

Barry made a protesting sound, almost offended but not quite managing it.

Snart sighed. He took off his boots and slid onto the bed that could accommodate two adults, though only in very close proximity. Isolation had clearly been designed to hold all shapes and sizes of metas.

"C'mon, Barry," he coaxed.

He didn't really need to. The younger man seemed to bury closer to him, all lean lines and hidden power. Seeking physical contact, Warm, human contact. Closeness. He felt a shudder run through the sinewy body. Like this was what he had needed and had been afraid to ask for. Barry's fingers clenched into his Henley, holding on as if he was afraid the other man was going leave again.

Len still had his hands on the bare skin, felt the sizzle of the Speed Force, that limitless power thrumming just below the deceptively soft skin. He felt it intermingle with whatever it was that it had found within him. It hummed, pleased and very quiet all of a sudden, and while there was a raggedness to the whole energy, how it still sought to reconnect with its speedster, it felt smoother.

Snart dragged gentle fingers along Barry's skin, caressing and exploring, smiling as the tense muscles relaxed more and more. The sense of power inside him never abated. There was electricity and the lightning that had given him his name. It was like feeling hyperactivity, the physical sensation of an extra-dimensional power source. It was Barry and it was striking.

"Sorry," Barry mumbled, voice muffled against Len's body.

"Not your fault," he replied softly, squeezing the pale neck with an affectionate smile. "Get some rest, Scarlet. Let's hope the worst is over."

After this episode he knew Snow and Ramon would want to know. He was not going to be anyone's guinea pig, but part of him wanted to know, too.