This Delicate Thing We've Made

genre: Romance

rated: M

Chapter 3: Who Would Have Thought

"Nobody told you that a heart is like a deep, deep freeze
So many lies so much of it broken
Nobody told you deep within a well so cavernous
That maybe I could shed some light on
Who would have thought it could be amazing
Who would have thought the tiny courageous
Who would have thought that love so belated
Could save me and bring me back to you"

He could run so fast that the world appeared as if it was standing still. He could travel through time. He could run on water, scale buildings, phase through walls, and that was only scratching the surface of the speedster skills he possessed. But with all his power, his abilities and fantastic feats, there were still things beyond his capabilities.

Like the line at the bank.

If Barry Allen needed to access his finances, he was just an average guy waiting his turn in line. It had been boring and tedious enough when he could process time at a normal speed, but now as a speedster, it was just excruciating.

Still, Barry couldn't help but see the bright side as he gazed at the check-in his hand, the words 'S.T.A.R. Labs' typed in bold black letters. It wasn't the rather large six-figure sum that had him smiling, all though it was nice not having to worry on how to keep S.T.A.R. Labs afloat thanks to the residuals and patents it garnished from years of research and inventions prior to its explosion with the particle accelerator, when it was a staff of hundreds instead of being able to count on one hand. It was the name, it was the pride he held of knowing this was his responsibility. Not so long ago, although feeling like a lifetime away, he had looked to the structure in wonder and awe, dreaming of maybe one day working there after he freed his father. Never did he dream he'd own it. But if his life had taught him anything it was that the unimaginable was an average day and the only constant in his life was change. Life moves, things evolve, and the unexpected had a habit of making things way more interesting.

Except when the unexpected included six people ahead of you in line that was a worse kind of torture than one of Singh's lectures or the Weather Wizard's hail storms.

"I hate when they don't have enough tellers for the Saturday crowd," a low voice said from behind him.

"Tell me about it," Barry laughed politely, nodding over his shoulder slightly to acknowledge the person.

"Almost wish there was a way to speed it up, huh Scarlet?" the voice said again, the low and cool timber of the voice suddenly striking a chord of familiarity. Barry turned to face the man behind him and sighed.

"Underwhelmed are we, Barry?" Leonard Snart acknowledged, tilting his head to the side, half amused and half offended at Barry's sigh. "Especially after such a warm reception the last time we met."

"No, it's just I gotta get the S.T.A.R. Labs check deposited, I haven't eaten in a few hours, and I'm just not in the mood to stop a bank robbery today," Barry whined quietly, rubbing at his eyes.

"Well, as offended as I am that you are 'not in the mood' for our fun and games, I can tell you're not in top form because you failed to notice that I'm not exactly dressed for a heist," Snart folded his arms over his chest, indicating with his head to Barry to move forward the six inches that the line had moved up. "And I did not know you were going to be here. You know everything's not all about you, Mr. Allen."

Barry backed up, mindful not to bump into the woman in front of him, as he took in Snart's appearance. Dressed casually in dark worn jeans, a light navy canvas jacket open over a dark gray Henley, with a pair of sunglasses and an age-worn gray Central City Diamonds baseball cap low-key obscuring his notable face to an informed citizen. Not exactly screaming Captain Cold, robber extraordinaire.

"Are you serious? Are you actually making a withdrawal that doesn't involve theft?" Barry teased in a quiet voice.

"For your information, 'Captain Cold' has never struck Twin Cities Federal, in either Central or Keystone, because 'Len Colden' banks there."

"Colden?" Barry halfheartedly groaned. That was almost as bad as the 'ice to see you' greeting that Len had tried once during a heist that had the Flash laughing at the absurdity and forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to apprehending the criminal, not be amused by him.

"For your information, it's Old English for 'dark valley' and was an alias long before Ramon came up with my more notable one," Len defended, taking a step closer towards Barry, forcing the younger man to take another step back to close the gap in the line in front of them. He was being honest, he hadn't followed Barry here. He was amused, to say the least though to see the speedster waiting in line. Not a place either of them frequented, what were the odds they'd run into each other.

"Dark valley? That's a little ominous for someone who is now more of a legend with criminal tendencies rather than a criminal with heroic tendencies, don't you think?" Barry laughed, arms folded across his chest.

"Why don't you speak a little louder. I don't think the teller with the panic button under her counter heard you, Scarlet, " Snart rolled his eyes.

"What did I say about-"

"Ah-ah I only called you Scarlet. I didn't use the second half of the moniker, which I think you'll agree is the half you don't want me saying in a public setting," Len smirked, pleased as he watched Barry try to fight the tug of the smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Whatever, Len," Barry emphasized the nickname but any additional teasing died on his lips as he saw five men dressed all in black near the entrance reach beneath their trench coats and begin firing their automatic weapons wildly. He hadn't seen them enter, distracted by the banter with Leonard Snart to notice them. Barry immediately set into action, quickly grabbing people two at a time in all directions and escorting them outside to safety as, in slow motion, the five men littered the bank with bullets.

For a Saturday afternoon, the bank was full of people and Barry took notice of the tellers dropping behind their bulletproof glass partitions as he grabbed and safely carried almost 20 people out of harm's way to the street on the other side of the stone walls of the bank. He'd noticed the men too late, they'd already begun firing by the time his speedster reflexes kicked in. He could talk out the assailants, but that still left the hundreds of bullets between the five of them that had already been fired. The number of bullets outnumbered the people currently present, so emptying the bank rather than catching all the bullets seemed like his best course of action. Adrenaline allowed him to mostly ignore the few twinges he felt as bullets grazed him just as he nearly dodged out of the way in time but something began to slow him down, whether it was the lack of energy from not eating enough today to feed his super metabolism or the few bullets that managed to make contact with his unprotected flesh, not having come prepared with his suit and only dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. But as he felt his strength and stamina begin to slow, although he'd cleared out most of the bank he knew he wouldn't be able to make another trip back and forth to help more. He saw Snart in slow motion trying to dive to the floor to safety and with his last surge of strength, Barry grabbed him and zipped as far away as he could carry them before his speed and strength faltered.

Within seconds they were sliding across the floor of one of the halls in the back of the bank. The squeak as they slid across the marble seemed to echo in the empty corridor. Barry had about a nanosecond to anticipate the impact before his back collided with the concrete wall, curling around the man in his arms to protect him. The air whooshed from his lungs as his back absorbed the hit, pain radiating to every nerve in his body before he blacked out.

With a sudden jolt, Len took a moment to mentally assess his condition and what just happened, just a second ago standing in the middle of the bank before blinking and skidding to a painful stop on the floor. He recalled the sensation of traveling at super speed from the time Barry zipped them to the forest years ago and at Jitters just the week before, but that didn't mean his body was used to the sensation. Pushing himself up from where he was sprawled across the cold marble, the slight nausea was easily subsided as he took in the discomfort in his limbs from sliding across the floor at high speed. Luckily his fall was prevented by...

"Barry!" Len quickly turned on his knees behind him to see the man slumped against the wall, eyes closed. Bright red blood stained the floor around him and for a moment Len was frozen at the sight of the other man so still.

"Shit, Barry," he cursed, maneuvering the younger man to lay on his back, a shaking hand reaching out to his neck, feeling the rapid heartbeat thrumming beneath his fingers. His relief was short-lived however as he moved his hand to Barry's chest and realized he wasn't breathing.

"Come on, kid," Len plead desperately as he lay strong yet gentle hands on either side of Barry's face, cupping his cheeks, shaking the head gently as he tried to rouse the other man. Barry's heart was beating but he still wasn't breathing.

Thinking for a moment on what he should do, Len recalled a time in prison when another inmate had been thrown against a wall by a man way bigger than he was and literally had the wind knocked out of him, the force of the impact on his back disrupting his breathing pattern. The inmate had passed out and was unable to try to work through the diaphragm spasm, requiring a few rescue breaths to get him going again.

Len sent a prayer up to whoever listened for wayward ex-cons and nerdy cops-turned-hero's that this was a similar scenario. He planted one hand firmly on Barry's chest, the other pinching his nose closed as he leaned over him, pressing his lips against Barry's and breathed into his mouth. After a few forced breaths, Barry finally inhaled sharply, alternating between coughing and gasping in air. Len hovered over him, his hand shifting from Barry's nose to cup his cheek, the other hand rubbing Barry's chest as the injured man groaned, struggling to get his breathing under control.

"Len," Barry gasped, looking up at the worried gaze hovering over him, frozen there for a moment, staring at each other, lips barely touching, breathing heavy.

"Goddamnit kid, you scared the crap out of me," Len swore, pulling away with a sigh as he sunk back on his heels, his relief that Barry was breathing again getting lost in the scare of the realization that Barry was covered in blood. He moved his hands across his body, trying to track down where Barry was injured but he suddenly heard voices shouting and footsteps approaching and Len knew he had to get them into hiding.

Looking around he saw the hall littered with office doors and praying just one was open. They had to flee and quick but Barry hadn't yet made any indication of movement.

"Barry, we can't stay here," Len bent over the younger man. He held tightly to Barry's left wrist with his own left hand and slung his arm across his shoulders as his right arm wrapped tightly around Barry's waist. He lifted the injured man to his feet, Barry biting in his lip to stifle his shout of pain. As gentle as he could with the urgency of the situation, Len made his way down the hall, letting go of Barry's wrist only long enough to twist the door handles. Barry was slumped against him, feet dragging along as he was barely able to support his own weight as Len hurriedly half carried him down the hall. Len spared a look at Barry's face, his head hung down, chin to chest, shallow and rapid breathing making Len nervous as Barry's right arm loosely wrapped around his own torso. The second to last door on the left, a filing room, was thankfully unlocked. Len eased the door open just as Barry's knees buckled suddenly, letting out a strained whimper of pain, Len grunting as he shifted to support all of Barry's weight as they entered.

Len quickly shut off all the lights and locked the door behind them. He eased them down to the floor, backs against the door and Barry cried out in pain at the sudden jarring of his body.

"Shh, you need to be quiet," Len whispered, as Barry bit his bottom lip trying to suppress a cry of pain. He shouldn't have been moved, Len knew that, but they had little choice in the matter. As he heard the voices approach, Len gathered Barry into his arms, seating the young man between his legs and held him close, chest to chest. Barry gripped onto Len's sleeve, fisting the material in his hand as he shook with a jolt of pain and buried his face into Len's left shoulder as he tried to muffle the cry.

The footsteps grew closer and Len grew worried at Barry's pained and heavy breathing and moans.

"I'm sorry, kid," he whispered, reaching his left arm up from behind Barry's back, across his shoulder to gently clamp a hand over Barry's mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Mmph," Barry moaned, nodding his head in forgiveness and closing his eyes tightly, focusing all his energy on being quiet. Len tucked Barry's head into the crook of his neck, feeling Barry's lips as they moved soundlessly against the palm of his hand. He used the arm still wrapped around Barry's back to pull the man as close to him as possible.

Len heard them pass, could almost feel the tension as they tried to turn the locked handle, and then heard them move on. When he was sure they had cleared the hall, he released the hand over Barry's mouth and moved it to Barry's chin to tilt his head up to look at him.

"You did good kid," Len whispered, looking into the pain-filled green eyes staring up at him.

"I-I could have got-gotten us caught," Barry stammered through a wave of pain, his breathing rapid.

"But you didn't," Len thumbed at a pain-induced tear that had fallen down Barry's cheek. "I'm going to lay you down now. I need to take a look at your injuries."

"No," Barry shook his head, pulling it away from where Len's hand braced his cheek as he blinked in confusion, squirming against Len as he raised a hand to shove against Len's chest weakly. "Gotta get back out there, I didn't-I didn't get everyone out."

Len snatched the hand in his own, pinning it between their bodies as he refused to let Barry escape from his grasp, trying to ignore the immediate and suffocating rush of fondness mixed with frustration swelling in his chest. Bleeding out and still trying to help everyone but himself, damn hero.

"Damnit, Barry, you weren't' breathing two minutes ago," Len cursed, realizing the moment the words left his lips that it wasn't an argument that mattered to the Flash. "You got out as many as you could, even after getting shot, and somehow still managed to bring me to safety."

"I don't think these are just bank robbers," Barry tried to shift out of the hold Len had on him before a tremor of pain shot through his body at the movement, "I have to do more."

"You can't do anymore, kid, not in the state you're in," Len gripped his chin again, gently, forcing the younger man to look at him. "Now let me help you so you can live to help people another day."

Barry hesitated but nodded, knowing it would be painful but also knowing it was necessary. He couldn't help anybody like this.

Len gently moved his arms till one was behind Barry's shoulders and the other beneath his knees, easing Barry onto his back and on the floor. Barry groaned in pain at the movement but tried to be as pliable as Len needed him to be even though his body told him to push him away. Len shrugged off his jacket, balled it up, and gently helped Barry to lift his head, slipping the jacket beneath him. Barry lay his head back against the makeshift pillow and flashed a pained smile of thanks to Len, the older man marveling at just how many versions of a smile one person could have.
Len scanned Barry's body for the obvious signs of injury, noting the bloodstains on Barry's right side of the abdomen just above the curve of his hip, near the center of his left thigh, and the right shoulder.

"Shit, kid, aren't you supposed to be faster than a speeding bullet?" Len scolded with no real heat in the criticism as he checked each wound, turning Barry slightly on his side to reveal the path of the bullet that nicked his right flank. He had nearly avoided it but it grazed almost an inch into his flesh of the abdomen.

"Too-too many bullets spraying for me to phase through them and-and carry everyone," Barry breathed through the pain as Len lifted his thigh to check for the path of the bullet wound. He lifted Barry's leg slightly, noting that the gunshot wound entered from the outward side of his left thigh and exited through the inner thigh. The most troubling was the shoulder wound, however, entering from behind, a small pool of blood forming beneath him with no exit wound in the front.

"Idiot," Len muttered as he stood from where he had knelt over the injured speedster.

"Hey, easy with the 'idiot' stuff. I had to save people," Barry lifted his head to look at Len.

"Yeah well maybe you shouldn't be so quick to get yourself almost killed," Len muttered as he moved around the dark office, finding a couple of half drunk water bottles, a roll of packaging tape, and a sweater draped over the back of a chair.

"Snart, what is it?" Barry knew he wasn't actually mad at him. Len didn't respond as he poured water over his hands to clean them and then poured water over Barry's thigh.

"Ah, fuck!" Barry swore, leaning his back against the jacket on the floor. He watched as Len said nothing, tearing the sweater into strips and packing two wads tightly against each side of the thigh wound, causing Barry to curse again in pain. "Can you give a guy some warning?"

"You're right, where are my manners," Len drawled in that mocking tone, wrapping packing tape around Barry's thigh to hold the makeshift bandaging in place. "Barry, would you mind if I clean your wounds so you don't go into sepsis and then wrap them so you don't bleed out?"

"You don't have to be an ass," Barry grumbled, biting back another shout as Len moved to the abdomen wound. He cleaned it out, pressed a piece of the torn sweater against the length of the graze, and overlaid a few strips of tape to keep them in place. It was crude but effective. Barry said nothing else while he worked and as Len finished securing the tape, he looked up to see Barry's left hand curled into a fist covering his mouth, eyes clenched shut and breathing rapidly.

Len knew Barry was right, he was being an ass. The kid was in pain, probably afraid, and in Len's own fear, he was treating him like shit. Len didn't handle fear well; it made him feel weak, powerless and those were not two things that he coped with in a healthy manner. His usual method was lashing out. But what unnerved him was that he wasn't afraid of the situation he was in, what unnerved him was he that his fear was of losing Barry. At one time his foe, his nemesis, then a man he respected and company he enjoyed, whether it was working together or against each other. And then after joining the Legends, he realized that it was Barry who inspired him during that time to do the right thing. He'd even dare say he'd come to admire the kid. But seeing him now, like this, Len feared he'd lose one of the few things in his life that challenged him in all the best ways, one of the few things remaining in his life that brought him a spark of joy. He hadn't realized that the kid meant that much to him, not until the terrifying realization of suddenly being without him.

With a sigh, he leaned over and gripped Barry's uninjured shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Len said quietly, willing the younger man to look at him. "I'm just... your shoulder, there's no exit wound."

Barry pulled his hand away from his mouth and looked up at Len.

"That's not good," was all Barry could respond.

"I'm aware, Scarlet. Brilliant observation. Aren't you supposed to be smarter than that?" Len teased and was thankfully rewarded with a small chuckle in response before Barry's face clenched in a wince of pain.

"With the bullet lodged in a muscle or bone, anytime my body tries to heal it'll reopen the wound before it can," Barry sighed, left hand moving to reach for his injured right shoulder.

"What do you mean try to heal?" Len asked, lightly smacking the hand away before easing Barry to lean slightly to his left.

"I heal fast. Part of my pow-ow!" Barry cried out as Len put pressure on the wound at the shoulder beneath him.

"So you heal quickly, alcohol doesn't affect you," Len breathed as he pressed the torn sweater against the shoulder wound. "Any other tidbits about your powers I should know?"

"Rule number one of being a hero," Barry said through gritted teeth at the pressure against the injury as Len wrapped it with tape. "Don't tell your nemesis your weaknesses."

"Please, we haven't been nemeses for a while," Len scoffed.

"Arch rival?" Barry shrugged with his good shoulder, grateful for the levity between them.
"I believe the term is frenemy," Len forced a smile down at him and Barry couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the word coming out of Snart's mouth before quickly turning to a groan.

"Don't make me laugh, it hurts," Barry hissed, leaning his head back against the floor, closing his eyes as a wave of pain radiated from his side. "Frenemy. Is that why you're pissed at me but also helping me?"

"Well, you saved me first by getting me out of the line of fire, seems only fair. And I'm pissed because you got blood on my favorite jacket," Len replied, not looking at Barry's face, easier to sell the lie that way. Instead, he gave another once over to see if he'd missed anything but instead he found the bandages on Barry's thigh soaked red all the way through already. "Can you send the memo of the healing thing to your thigh?"

"It might have nicked an artery...there are some pretty major ones in your thighs," Barry breathed through the spasm of pain and Len could see how pale the young man had become. "My heart is pumping like crazy to make up for the...for the lack of oxygen due to blood loss..."

"Only to cause even more blood to spill out of the wound," Len sighed, familiar with the classic vicious cycle of the wounded body.

"And my heart beats a lot faster than normal people," Barry added, chest heaving as he tried to breathe through the pain and weakening of his body. "So, I could bleed out before my body even gets the chance to heal any of the bullet wounds."

"Well, let's not do that," Len grunted, layering up the remaining pieces of the torn sweater around the thigh wound and wrapping more tape as tight as he dared.

"You should just leave...get yourself to safety."

Len tried to ignore how weak Barry sounded, the adrenaline having worn off and the injuries starting to finally take its toll.

"Yeah, that's not happening," Len leaned over where Barry lay, the suggestion from the voice laced with pain and short breaths finally forcing Len to look at Barry's face again.

"Len, we don't know what they're after. If they find us they might not hesitate to kill us," Barry pleaded as he looked up into Len's eyes, his eyes watery and desperate. "You just came back. Just go."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you behind, Barry. I'm not that guy anymore, I'm never leaving anyone behind again," Len didn't look away from Barry's stare. Barry knew there was a story there, felt his own twinge of guilt at the notion of leaving someone behind, but now was not the time. "Now, there is a delivery service entrance at the back of this building. If we can get through there undetected we can get out of here. It's not far, down this hall, two lefts and three rights."

"How could you possibly-"

"Please, Scarlet. I've memorized the blueprint schematics and layout of every place I frequent," Len said dismissively before he noticed the new bandages at the thigh already darkly stained.

"Of course you have," Barry mumbled, voice quiet and strained as Len quickly scanned the office, finding nothing else to act as a makeshift bandage before pressing his hands firmly against the thigh wound. Barry let out a hiss, his left hand reaching to grasp at Len's sleeve to pull it away, to escape the new source of pain. His eyes clenched tightly and Len could see the tears escaping.

"I'm sorry, Barry, I know it hurts. I have to do something to slow this bleeding, you're gonna be fine." He was rambling now, not sure if it was for Barry's benefit or his own, when the fist clenching his sleeve dropped to his side.

"Len," Barry whispered, voice just a breath as he tried to pull in air, shallow and labored. Len saw something desperate in his expression before his eyes rolled closed, head lolling to the side as he lost consciousness. Len reached a bloodstained hand to palm Barry's cheek, the skin cold to the touch. He let his fingers slide down Barry's damp skin, checking the pulse at his throat. Frantic but weak. Rapid heartbeat, shallow breathing, cold and clammy skin, Barry was going into shock.

"Barry, just stay with me. Open your eyes, Scarlet, please," Len couldn't explain the panic that started to rise. It hit him suddenly, fear surging through his body at the thought of Central City without Barry Allen, his life without the one person who in his own annoying way became a constant he could depend on in a world with so few for him.

Suddenly, Len could hear voices outside the hallway now. Their attackers or help, he didn't know and at this rate didn't care. He needed to get Barry to wake up, had to get him out of here.

"Barry! Barry!" Len put pressure on the thigh wound with one hand while his other cupped his cheek, now stained with his own blood that had soaked Len's hands. It was like a fist clenching his heart, voice cracking with desperation as he yelled at him. "Wake up, kid!"

The voices got louder and he was able to recognize one in particular.

"In here! Help!" He shouted out. With a crash, the door kicked in and never did Len think he'd be relieved to see a cop, especially Joe West.

"Snart?!" Was his outburst, gun pointed directly at Len till he realized who was laying beneath the former criminal. "Barry!"

"He's dying!" Len shouted back, eyes shifting back to Barry who still lay prone beneath him, gently patting the cheek beneath his hand in hopes to stir the unresponsive man. He didn't see Joe move closer or press the distress button on his phone, before dropping to his knees beside them.

Within moments, a blue vortex opened and Cisco Ramon came through, breach extrapolator in one hand with one of their pulse rifles in the other that he had grabbed in order to rush at Joe's call. Cisco didn't even have a chance to speak or to register what was happening before Joe called out orders.

"Take him to S.T.A.R. Labs," Joe braced a hand on Len's shoulder before looking up to Ramon. "Save him!"

Len eased his elbow under Barry's neck, sliding his other arm beneath his knees as he lifted him from the floor, Barry's head lolling against Len's shoulder. He staggered for a minute under the weight before turning to follow Ramon through the breach which led them straight into the Cortex of S.T.A.R. Labs.

"Caitlin!" Cisco called out before turning to Len, "Bring him in here."

Snart followed Cisco through a doorway into a medical room that branched off from the main hub. He carefully lowered the unresponsive man in his arms to lay upon the gurney just as Caitlin Snow and some tall guy that Len had never seen before came running in through the hall entrance.

"What happened to him?" she barked out into the room, leaning over Barry, peeling back his eyelids to shine her penlight.

"Three gunshot wounds, his shoulder still has the bullet lodged in it," Len supplied, not yet leaving Barry's side as he shifted to the foot of the bed and applied pressure to the still bleeding thigh wound, holding the limb between his hands. Len watched Caitlin lift Barry's upper body slightly to peel back the tape to examine the shoulder wound as Cisco moved around them, quickly and efficiently attaching a pulse oximeter to Barry's finger on his left hand and heart monitor electrodes to his chest. The two scientists were a well-oiled machine when it came to tending to an injured Barry Allen, an unfortunate byproduct of years of crimefighting.

"Cisco, get an oxygen mask on him while I start an IV line. Ralph, get five units of blood from the freezer and thaw them in hot water as we practiced. Hopefully, we won't need them all." Caitlin had become adept at not being distracted by the ear-piercing beeping of the monitors conveying that the patient's vitals were at dangerous levels.

Barry's blood pressure was dropping and his heart rate increasing. Len could only watch and keep pressure on the thigh wound as Caitlin took shears and cut the fabric of Barry's shirt.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, sparing him a look before returning her focus back to her task. Len was confused at the question at first, looking down at his own chest and arms to see himself stained in blood.

"No, it's his," Len swallowed, voice tight with concern.

"Okay," she replied curtly as Cisco rolled over a metal tray with surgical equipment. Len watched her take command of the room and he found himself impressed with the ease and expertise in which Barry's crew functioned. She didn't spare him another glance as she immediately set to work prepping Barry for surgery, barking more orders to the room as she remained focused before directing her attention back at Len. "Go put on a pair of gloves from that counter over there, get the gauze from the third drawer on the right and come back and help me."

Len wasn't sure why he listened and did as he was ordered, wasn't sure why he helped through the surgical process when he could, or why he answered Joe's questions about what happened when the man joined them two hours later. What he was even less sure of was why after three hours he was still here, dried blood staining his arms, hands, and clothes, hovering by the door of the medbay watching Caitlin check Barry's vitals and barely listening to the exchange behind him in the Cortex.

"They're part of an anti-capitalist terrorist group. They were not interested in robbing the bank but instead causing bloodshed to make a point," Joe explained to Cisco, Iris and the new guy Len learned was Ralph.

"Two of the terrorists were shot dead by police. Twelve people injured including Barry but not in critical condition," Iris added, scrolling through the report on the computer at the console in front of her. "Reports are saying between customers and employees, the Flash saved thirty-five people before he disappeared."

"Barry and Snart are being included in that thirty-five count since surveillance footage has them at the bank, not to mention Barry's blood on the scene," Cisco sighed, leaning against the console.

"And the video doesn't reveal that Barry is the Flash?" Ralph asked.

"He moved fast enough it just looks light lightning swept him away," Joe scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Just another person rescued by the Flash."

"Luckily the Flash had help otherwise we could have lost him," Iris said. Len sensed his cue, dropping his head, chin to his chest and taking a deep breath before turning on his heel to face the gathered crowd in the Cortex.

"Not that we're ungrateful, but aren't you supposed to be dead?" Ralph pointed at him.

"It didn't take," he said with as much snark as he could muster at the moment, satisfied with the nervous look on the new guys face as he dropped the pointing finger.

"You saved him. Why?" Joe asked, looking directly at Len, no sign of the disgust he'd seen in the older man's gaze in the past, just a cautious appraisal. Maybe it was because West was tired, or worried about his son, or maybe because of Len's new affiliation with allies of Team Flash that his mistrust wasn't at the forefront of his judgment of the former criminal.

Len thought about deflecting, answering with a snide remark about how saving the Flash meant a better chance of saving himself or not being blamed as participating in the crime if he'd let the man die. But as he folded his arms over his chest, the fabric and skin tight with dried blood, Len realized he didn't care enough to try to prove a reputation he no longer felt aligned with, especially to people who actually knew better. And more importantly, Len was too disturbed by the distress he had felt today that he couldn't even gather the strength to lie to himself, never mind them.

Caitlin's description of the injuries kept circling in his head. The fact that he had three gunshot wounds with nothing major directly hit or even nicked, just muscle and tissue damage, was damn miraculous. She had said that because of the direct angle of the gunshot it had been a miracle that the bullet to Barry's shoulder had lodged itself in the back of one of his ribs, that if it had gone straight through he would have bled out almost twice as quickly. If the bullet had hit him at a more diagonal angle, it could have traveled through Barry's heart causing instantaneous death. If Len hadn't acted as quickly to staunch the blood flow, Barry would have lost even more blood than he had, leading to hypovolemia and shock in minutes followed by immediate shutting down of his organs. It had been close. Too close for Len. Too much and too draining to even pretend to be aloof about any of it.

"The Flash wasn't there today," Len finally spoke, meeting the expectant gaze of the people gathered around that cared about Barry Allen, "and neither was Captain Cold. It was just Leonard Snart and Barry Allen and Leonard Snart doesn't have an issue with Barry Allen."
"Are you saying if he was in costume, you wouldn't have helped?" Ralph asked, voice suspicious. Len couldn't blame him.
"I'm saying," Len shook his head, pushing himself away from the door frame, "Barry needed my help after saving a bank full of people including myself. So I helped him."

"And Captain Cold's heart grew three sizes that day," Cisco remarked in response. Len saw Iris smile slightly before sharing a strange look with Ramon, Ralph scratching his head like he didn't know what to say. Joe eyed him up and down before walking towards him.

"Thank you," the cop said, quiet and tight like he wasn't entirely confident with his actions as he held out a hand. Len let it hang there for a moment, toying with the notion of not reciprocating but then he thought about all the times he'd given the man in front of him enough fodder to point a gun at him rather than extend a hand and Len knew that if he wanted to move forward, he'd have to take the steps to leave that behind.

Len clasped the hand in his own, shaking it tightly once before they separated. As Len pulled his hand away, seeing the dried blood still coating his hands, something overcame him that instigated his fight or flight mode.

"Tell the kid when he wakes up," Len said, not speaking to anyone of them specifically, "this wasn't the kind of fun I had in mind."

With one last glance over his shoulder into the medbay room, seeing the steady beeping lines on the monitor indicating Barry's vitals were stable, Len exited the Cortex. He didn't belong there, didn't belong with the people keeping vigil over their friend, their loved one. He wasn't that to Barry, and Barry wasn't that to him. He wasn't sure what they were to each other but this wasn't the time or the place to figure that out. Who would've thought though that it was a question he would even want to know the answer to.