Over the next hours Barry bled off more and more of the disruptor's effects. Snart's very agile and analytic mind was going through what he knew, what he had been told, and what he was seeing. The disruptor gun had destabilized Barry's meta ability, tried to cut his connection to the Speed Force, and like a torn muscle, the injury was slowly knitting together again. There were bursts of energy, all quite contained, and while it looked painful, he younger man never made a sound. Len knew Barry had a high threshold for pain, but he doubted he would just quietly suffer, so this wasn't actually harming him.
He was healing, though there had been bouts of amnesia. Len could almost feel when Barry was disoriented, the way he tensed, moved away, and on one memorable occasion fell off the bed.
"Uh, Len?"
"There we go," he lauded, holding out a hand to help Barry back up. And no, he wasn't laughing inside. Not much anyway.
"What… where am I?"
He remembered Snart's name, but not where he was. A small victory. So they went through the whole thing again. Len's voice never became monotone and he wouldn't just recite facts either. He treated each repetition as if it was the first time.
The third time Barry was lucid enough that he didn't move from Len's side. He was only momentarily disoriented and finally looked quite content being plastered to the other man. Touch always helped to ground him, helped him focus. It mostly resulted in a completely boneless speedster who wasn't inclined to move away again. If not for nature's call, that is.
Barry tried to be embarrassed about needing help, but he was too exhausted to uphold his protests.
Len had inspected the isolation room while Barry was sleeping. There was a fully functional bathroom, including a very nice shower. They had spare clothes, which meant S.T.A.R. Labs sweats, and he got Barry to slip into a very wide, large sweater before the speedster had claimed Len as his personal safety blanket again.
"I knew you'd be a cuddler," Snart commented with a fond note when they were in bed once more.
One hand was playing through the unruly hair, trailing over the long lines of the pale neck, tracing freckles. He had counted them throughout the hours gazing at the skin. Barry's reaction had been completely automatic, seeking closeness and throwing an arm over Len's hip. It was so easy, so comfortable, so familiar.
"Bite me," was the muffled reply.
He cracked a fond little smile. Oh, I'd love to, Len thought before he could catch himself. More than just bite you.
He squashed the inappropriate thought, though it stayed and dug itself deeper into his mind.
Fuck, that's not good, was all that went through him.
Not at all.
Barry's condition improved rapidly. He remembered things longer, wasn't disoriented whenever he woke, and after two hours and ten minutes, his mind was clear again.
The kid was exhausted, though. Everything had taken its toll and it had been a very hefty price. Len could feel it in the heaviness of his limbs, could see it in the lines of the young face, and he gently coaxed his speedster to give into that need.
"You can sleep. I've got you. It's okay," Len told him calmly. "Let go."
Barry followed his suggestions without protest. He fell asleep, breathing calm and regular, all pliant warmth and long, lean lines. Len didn't move from the bed, studying the speedster. He kept caressing the smooth skin, carding his fingers through Barry's hair.
He felt content.
Inside an isolation room that was located in a former prison that had held metahumans. He had to trust in Barry's friends not to lock him up in here, throw away the key. Some might find it hilarious, but he couldn't care less at the moment.
"Why am I doing this for you?" he murmured, not expecting an answer. "Why do I do the things I do for you? Because you asked me nicely, Scarlet? No. You're always nice. You get to people. I never let people get to me, but you did. All the time. You keep coming back, you're persistent, you're… you. You have started to mean something, kid."
And Len was something for Barry, too. Countless times of hanging out together - Len knew the exact number, but it actually disturbed him how high it was – was evidence enough.
They had a connection.
He might have fought that description just a year ago. He would probably have turned and walked away, never looking back. Leonard Snart was a man who despised being controlled, to have anyone have any form of power over him. He would have tried to cut even the vaguest notion of a bond if he was a Guide, which he wasn't. He would never bow to a Sentinel, never be anyone's side-kick or spiritual safety net.
But Barry Allen wasn't a Sentinel. Yeah, okay, he was. The special kind. The meta kind, too. One who couldn't bond.
A private little smile played around his lips as he combed the unruly hair. "You really are extraordinary, Barry Allen," he murmured, voice soft and loving. "Cotton candy with jagged, sharp edges. Letting you go was never an option. I think if you had the ability to bond, you'd be the only Sentinel I'd consider giving that power over me. I think you already have it."
Was Barry a weakness? Yes. Yes, he was, Len decided. Was he a liability? Yes and no. He was The Flash, but he was also only human.
"Damnit, Barry," he whispered.
His walls had long since come down and he knew there was a lot between them, something powerful, endless, unbreakable, and it terrified him.
Time had passed. Even without a clock, Snart had been aware of time ticking by. He had let himself rest, eyes closed, dozing, but very much on alert. Barry hadn't woken, sleeping like dead, and aside from a little twitch once or twice, he slept like the dead.
With Barry's condition improving and stable, Len let himself out of the isolation room and walked out of the Pipeline. It was inevitable that he would pass by the cortex. It was also inevitable that he would run into Barry's team. He stopped when he heard a noise and met the compassionate eyes of Caitlin Snow. She opened her mouth to say something.
"Can it, Doc," he cut he off.
It got him a change in expressions, the scowl fierce. "So you're just going to leave?"
He schooled his face into a cold, distant mask. "I did what you asked me to do. He's back."
"Barry's not some machine you repair and think it's functional again!" she snapped at him.
"Funny. Sometimes I think that's all he is to you," he taunted.
Her face flushed with anger. It was the moment Harrison Wells walked in on them. He must have heard the last part because he shook his head.
"We can't stop you from leaving, Mr. Snart."
"I would have loved to see you try," he drawled with a smirk. "Very much."
Caitlin huffed.
Wells smiled calmly. "Stopping you isn't my intention, though I doubt it's helping Barry recover if you just leave now."
"He's fine again."
"He is far from fine and while you are not a Guide to a meta Sentinel, you are connected to him. It's not something you can cut off or ignore. We both know that the two of you have forged that connection over a very long time, one small step at a time. It consists of many different strands all woven together to enable you to do what you just did." He gave him a pointed look. "You are his counter-point. His shield. Sometimes an anchor."
Len refused to react. He absolutely refused to open all those handy little drawers and boxes he had shoved the countless moments, emotions and memories in. He refused to be baited and he refused to be roped into staying through guilt.
"Where I come from, we call you conduits." Wells cocked his head. "Not sure why this place only separates receptives into Sentinels and Guides, but there are a dozen sub-categories to Guides alone, and each has different nuances."
"Where you come from," he echoed evenly.
"Long story," Cisco muttered as he sidled up, shooting a haphazard smile at Len.
"A story that might explain why he is walking now?"
"Kinda?"
Wells met his narrowed eyes. "I'll answer possible questions concerning my person if and when you stay, Mr. Snart."
He looked at Wells, eyes hard. "What's a conduit?"
"Will you stay with Barry?"
He felt his jaw tighten and he really itched for his cold gun. But Len was nothing if not in control of himself. Always. No matter what. His plan might have been to leave before he found he had outstayed his usefulness and therefore his welcome, but that plan had been derailed.
Screw the fucking plan, he thought darkly. This one went off the rails quite spectacularly.
Wells raised his eyebrows.
"Alright," he said lazily. "I'll lend a little more assistance."
"Thank you, Mr. Snart. So, the conduit. Well, just like a pipe is a conduit for draining water or any other liquid, or delivering the liquid from point A to point B, you have the ability to ease certain input for others. Mostly Sentinels, no matter what category. In this case, Barry Allen."
Len felt his masks slide firmly into place. "I'm not his Guide."
Wells rolled his eyes. "Why is no one listening to me?" he asked the room in general. "We have well-established that you are not a mere Guide."
Len's brows rose a fraction. "Mere," he echoed blandly.
"Yes. Mere. Simple. Being nothing more or better than, according to any dictionary you ask. You, Leonard Snart, are unable to connect to a Sentinel and Barry is very much unable to bond to a 'mere' Guide. He doesn't have the opening for one. But you are a subcategory, Mr. Snart."
"Uhm, subcategory?" Caitlin interjected. "There is no subcategory of Guides."
Wells looked at her with a long-suffering look. "Because this world hasn't really dug all too deeply into the whole Sentinel and Guide matter, which I find both surprising and highly negligent. You can test for active and passive genes, but you can't tell apart the nuances. You claim some individuals are low-level, barely empathic or mentally unable to ease a Sentinel's strain on his hyper-senses. That's actually scratching the surface. Guides and Sentinels are a lot deeper and more diverse than your Earth knows." He whipped back to Len. "In your case, you were probably tested and found to be unsuitable."
Snart refused to nod, but something in his posture had Wells smile almost triumphantly.
"I knew it! And those tests are correct in so far that you wouldn't be of any use to a regular Sentinel trying to get out of a zone or focus his senses. Because you're very much passive, Mr. Snart. In my world, conduits are mostly first aid responders. They bleed off excess mental or physical energy automatically, just by being there. The Sentinel, or even the Guide in some cases, never feels a thing. There is no connection, no bond. It's so pure and simple, absolutely beautiful. Conduits are very much undetectable by a Sentinel in need of a real Guide. No Sentinel would be able to bond with you, Mr. Snart."
That left a sour taste in his mouth and it stung more than a little bit.
Harrison studied him, appearing thoughtful and curious. "Judging from your expression, you have been working with Sentinels in close proximity, am I right? Unbonded Sentinels?"
Cisco frowned and Caitlin looked just as curious now. Len schooled his features, fighting back a response. Even a sneer would give too much away.
"You might have functioned as a conduit for that person," Wells went on. "Unaware of what you are doing. It could be that you triggered much later, when you met our Mr. Allen. Barry is a meta. On top of being a self-contained, very much autonomous Sentinel, he is also connected to the Speed Force. It's an immense power to be part of. It runs through him, is in every cell of his body, and it demands a lot. It should cripple Sentinel, turn his hyper-senses against him, but it didn't. It never did. Not for a moment. There is only so much a body can take, even one in a loop. He would need to decompress eventually and I wondered why he never collapsed. He would need a quiet place, a man in control of that quiet place. Someone to guide him without being a Guide. Someone centered, unflappable, level, and… cold." Wells gave him a pointed look. "Looks like he instinctively turned to the right person, even if the Sentinel never had an inclination to do so. Meta Sentinels aren't something we have. And I'm pretty sure you aren't just a conduit either because then you wouldn't have established a connection to that young man."
"Not to sound like a broken record: we are not bonded," Len stated flatly, mind racing.
"Oh, you aren't conventionally bonded. The by the book bonding that you can read about and look up everywhere. But there is something. You can deny all you want, but it's there and you can feel it. You're not just first aid. You are there; permanently. You provide Barry with a shield and a way to destress. You provide him with an anchor that moors him while the Speed Force drags at his every cell. You're all that: conduit, anchor and shield. Right now, you're doing all of that simultaneously."
"I can feel it," a soft voice startled Len. "You. I can feel you."
He turned just a Cisco exclaimed "Barry!"
Pale blue eyes met clear green.
"What are you doing up, Scarlet?" Len asked emotionlessly, refusing to show the same worry others displayed.
At least he tried to appear indifferent on the outside. Inside he was cursing up a storm that Barry had somehow crawled out of bed and stumbled here. He was in no condition to walk, even with his slowly restarting hyper-healing.
"And how did you get out of a secured isolation room?" he added, sending a sharp look Cisco's way.
"Uhm, the room isn't a prison cell, you know," the engineer muttered.
"Could have fooled me," Len snapped.
"Isolation was programmed into lock-down as long as Barry's physical condition was not under control," Wells explained calmly. "He is now very much in control." He shot Len a pointed look. "Your work, Mr. Snart."
"You're always there," Barry said, voice shaking. "You're been there for a long time. I know where you are, where to find you. I know when to find you before things get too much. I just know. I can't ignore it."
Oh damn. Oh shit. Oh fuckit!
"Barry, you need to get back into bed," Caitlin cajoled. "Or sit down. You're in no condition to run around!"
He ignored her, eyes firmly on Snart.
Len's eyes scanned over the slender form, way too aware of the bandages underneath the too wide S.T.A.R. Labs sweater. He took in the not yet healed abrasions, the contusions, the way he was trembling from the exertion. Then there were the still too glassy eyes, evidence of Barry fighting to stay conscious and slowly failing.
"You're delirious." His own voice sounded hollow, almost a little on the brittle side.
"You never pushed me away. You never said no."
He refused to fall into that trap. "I did what I had to. Like now."
Barry's lips were a thin line, his cheeks too gaunt, his pallor too gray. "You're there, Len. Always."
"Barry…" Cisco started, just as Caitlin moved forward, but Len was faster.
He purposefully strode over to the slowly collapsing speedster, mind counting down to when he would be unable to keep himself upright, and he was there on the dot as Barry's legs gave way and the younger man fell against him. Len winced as his bruised ribs protested wildly, but he bit back a more severe reaction.
"You're an idiot, Scarlet," he said softly.
There was a brief tremor, not even a blur. Barry calmed down as Len placed a hand against his skin, sighting softly. Emotions hummed thick between them.
"Idiot," Snart simply repeated.
Something curled in his stomach. Warm and longing and intense.
xXXx
The moment he was back on the bed, Caitlin stuck a needly into Barry's arm with an IV drip attached.
"He hasn't eaten anything since he was hit by the disruptor," she said, attaching a sensor to his fingers. "He's been using his powers, not to mention his body burns through calories at hyper speed without him using his abilities anyway. Barry's is in metabolic failure brought on by acute hypoglycemia. He needs nourishment."
Len stood back, watching with an impassive expression, but inside everything churned. His eyes were on the drip.
"That's… fast," he heard himself murmur.
Caitlin shot him a wry smile. "Yes. He can go through twenty bags in an hour."
Snart blinked, then watched her line up the next bag.
"We'll be doing this for at least another hour," she added. "His glucose levels are already hell to maintain when he isn't unconscious and eating his body weight in pizza or pasta. Cisco developed special power bars."
"I'm very much aware of his eating habits," he drawled. "Feeding him has put quite a dent in my food money."
Snow blinked, then a small smile crossed her lips. It was fast and he nearly missed it.
"I'll take care of it."
Caitlin's brows shot up. "Take care of what exactly?"
"Those special glucose bags. I have a wide range of… talents, Dr. Snow. Including some basic medical care. Switching out IV bags is hardly more complicated than cracking the Montgomery 3000." He smirked at her. "Not to mention that I will stay here anyway."
She hesitated, then expelled a sigh. "Alright."
"I will not hurt him," Len added, voice suddenly serious, no mockery audible.
Caitlin stopped, meeting his eyes. "I know." She hesitated a long second, then finally nodded. "Do you want me to check your ribs?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"I noticed you favoring your right side. You also have bruises on both wrists and I suspect an impact bruise on the back of your head." She mirrored his cocked eyebrow. "I know how combative Barry was. He wouldn't just turn immediately docile with you there, especially since his whole system was so disrupted. He hurt you."
Len glanced at his wrists, for the first time noticing the quite visible bruises peeking out from under the cuffs. Barry's hands had clamped down hard and that was the result.
"I'm fine."
"You might think it's just a bruised rib, but it could be a crack or even a break. Another blow could make it worse."
"I know a bruise from a crack, Dr. Snow," he drawled. "Lots of experience."
"Did you get a medical degree with that experience?" she asked pointedly, arms crossed in front of her chest.
Len smirked. She huffed.
"Suit yourself. If you puncture a lung I'm going to kick your ass, Snart!"
He was both amused and slightly mystified by her behavior, but let it slide for now. He had a Sentinel to tend to.