This Delicate Thing We've Made

genre: Romance

rated: M

Chapter 14: Fear of Falling Under

"Got a fear of falling under, underneath the dream
A fear of diving too deep, deep beneath the seams
A fear of falling under, underneath the spell
A fear of what the truth sees, secrets I will tell
Oh, what came first
Love, hurt?"

Four days after he revealed his relationship with Len to the entire CCPD, Barry's spirits had deflated. Whatever elation he had been feeling from finally being free of the pressures of keeping his relationship separate from the rest of his life, he was starting to come down from it. He was still happy, still relieved, but a new stress was invading his thoughts. Joe wasn't taking his calls or answering his texts, any encounters at work were short and exclusively work-related. It reminded him of how Joe had acted with Iris when he discovered she was dating Eddie; the silent treatment with an array of judgmental looks, all too familiar.

On day five, Barry found himself outside of the house he grew up, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of his maroon bomber jacket, feeling like everything was too tight all of a sudden, like he couldn't get comfortable. He knew Joe was off today and was ready to confront him. He felt nervous but determined, uncomfortable but knowing it was necessary. He had a hand on the key in his pocket, ready to let himself in but deciding to knock instead. He waited after the hesitant knocks and could hear through the door Cecile reprimanding someone loudly as she neared him from the other side.

"He's your son, Joe West, and he deserves a lot more credit than you are giving him so you better make this right before I make you make it right," he heard before the front door opened up to reveal Cecile with her cell phone in her hand. A surprised smile lit up her on her face as she shoved the phone in her jeans pocket.

"Barry! Sweetie, come in," she said, ushering him inside the home. She pulled him in tightly for a hug before Barry could even close the door behind him. "Joe's helping Iris at her apartment."

"Hey, Cecile," Barry returned the embrace, "Figures. I shouldn't have come by unannounced anyway."

"Please, Barry, this will always be your home. You're always welcome here," Cecile insisted, pulling away but keeping him at arm's length. When Barry sighed in response, doubt evident on his face, Cecile squeezed his forearms. "Your father will come around. He's confused and hurt but he'll come to his senses, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?" Barry asked, unable to stop himself from the defeated admission spilling out before he could try to mask it.

"Well, for one, he's got someone to knock some sense into him," she winked at him, eliciting a small chuckle from the young man. "But seriously, honey, he loves you. He just wants you to be safe and happy and sometimes when you're a parent, your fear overcomes what's looking you right in the face."

"And what's that?" He looked to her, begging for her to make him understand.
"That you're already safe and happy," she smiled at him, rubbing her hands up down his arms. "Barry, when Joe told me about you dating Leonard Snart, I was surprised. But what I know about you is that this is your true power."

She moved one hand over his heart, patting his chest gently.

"Forgiveness, love, trust, everything you do, you do with your heart. If you trust and forgive and love Snart, that means you know something we don't, you know him in a way we don't," Cecile smiled at him, her voice reassuring but assertive. She spoke in such a motherly way it made Barry twinge with longing for his own mother but also surge with gratitude for Cecile embracing their family and becoming the matriarch they didn't know they all needed. "Joe just needs to be reminded of that. And the second you walked through that door I not only felt the heaviness you're carrying because of the situation with your dad but I can also feel what you feel for Snart and I know its pure."

"It is," Barry sighed again, reaching his hand up to cover the one over his chest, squeezing it in thanks.

"Then for what it's worth you have my blessing. And your dad will come around, I promise," she smiled up at him. It didn't take long for the West-Allen family to become her own, to fall in love with Tam Flash. It didn't take long for her to adopt Barry in her heart like her partner had. Five minutes with Barry Allen and you wanted him to never stop smiling. And after you learned his story, what he'd been through, what he'd survived, what he'd done for the world, you wanted to simultaneously wrap in your arms to protect him and prop him up on a pedestal and look on with awe. He may not be her son, but she would give him any bit of motherly love he would accept from her.

"Thank you, Cecile," he smiled through watery eyes, leaning down to give her a kiss on her cheek.

He was about to leave, having dinner plans with Len later but Cecile pointed out that was hours away. She invited him in for coffee with less of a request and more of a demand for Barry's story of his relationship with Len. It wasn't quite what he had come here for, had intended on seeking absolution by clearing the air with his adoptive dad but instead found clarity by sharing his story with his newly adopted mother. It lightened his heart a little bit, lifting his spirits just enough to give him hope that he and Joe could work this out and everything would be alright.

Four days after being wrongfully accused of murder and robbery, Len was a man on a mission. Barry had put a lot on the line by being Len's alibi, his career, his credibility, his reputation at the police department. Sure, there was no real reason for Barry to lose his job just because he was dating one of Central City's formerly-most-wanted, just as long as Len stayed clean. The temptation to resort to his old ways had popped on occasion, but there were more satisfying things in his life these days. The risk of getting caught and the idea of spending lonely nights in prison were far less appealing than coming home to a million-watt smile and being nearly strangled in bed on a nightly basis by a lanky speedster. Len would never go as far as to call himself a 'good guy', it's just that he found something more to live for than the game.

So he could stay clean so that Barry could keep his job. He would turn his security consultation into a real business so he could provide for his new life; planning break-ins and heists legally could be just as fun without the heat from stolen goods and money he wouldn't have to be worried about spending because it was earned rather than from fencing property that wasn't his. As long as it meant he could live the life he wanted; and right now that meant a life with Barry.

It was these differences in his life these past six months though that now made life make sense in a way he hadn't felt since he returned. The apartment that felt like home not because of the place but because of who was spending time there. It was the coffee at Jitters rather than the drink at Saints and Sinners. It was listening to the police scanner to keep an ear out for reports of the Flash's exploits and making sure he didn't hear that he was injured rather than listening to response times to be prepared for future heists. It was scoping out vacant houses for sale because Barry told him he'd wanted to make a home for himself rather than vacant houses for squatting or stealing from while the owners were away.

He wouldn't give up anything he had currently to go back to the life he had before, a life he was accustomed to for three decades before even considering that maybe it wasn't serving him like he thought, that there was more out there for a guy like him. Besides, for any thief, nothing compared to the perfect score and that was definitely what he'd finally found with Barry. Love, home, safety, and peace like he'd never felt. He'd do everything in his power to keep that safe, protected, to make sure Barry felt that same kind of peace. Barry was his sun and he'd do anything to keep him shining.

His boyfriend though was having a tough time the past few days, struggling with the notion that his foster father didn't approve of their relationship. Len could care less what Joe West thought except for the fact that it really seemed to upset Barry, despite his efforts to assure Len he was fine. If this went on much longer, Len was going to take matters into his own hands and have a very pointed conversation with Joe himself. He doubted it would actually help the situation any but he couldn't sit idly by. To distract himself, however, he focused on things he could control. He'd visited the bungalow for sale that Barry was interested in and put an offer on it without telling his partner. He'd spoken with a lawyer to try to get his new business venture off the ground. And more pressing, he was currently trying to figure out whether or not someone had been trying to frame him.

He'd visited the scene of the crime that he'd been accused of, managed to sneak a look at the file on the case while he'd been at the station, asked around to local contacts that he still had an in with, and spread the word that he was looking to meet with the purveyor of the crime. And on day five, he waited at one of the old Rogues' safe houses, a warehouse defunct and abandoned in a seedy part of downtown Central City. Len sat in the manager's office above the main room which he had once used as his own as the Rogues would gather below on old sofas celebrating after a heist or crashing on the cots when they had to lie low after their own individual endeavors. He never got the Rogues off the ground like he had wanted, a team of criminals to take on the heroes of Central City, before he went off and joined his own rag-tag group of wanna-be do-gooders that ended up being the team he had been looking for, but they had had a good run however brief it had been.

But his musings were interrupted as the man he had suspected and was expecting walked into the office without so much as a knock on the door frame but with every ounce of cockiness a person could possibly possess. Len hoped he never looked as half as ridiculously arrogant as Mark Mardon seemed to always look.

"Snart, looking rather lively for a dead man," Mardon grinned, coming deeper into the office before plopping down uninvited into the chair in front of the desk that Len was seated atop of.

"Rumors of my demise were premature," Len replied, folding his arms over his chest. He was a vision of aloofness, unimpressed by Mardon's presence, leather jacket instead of the parka, the cold gun on the desk beside him. Captain Cold may not be the notorious criminal of Central City any longer, but he was still a force to be reckoned with and Len reveled in the calm, composed, and dare he say cool nature of his alter-ego.

"Apparently. No ones heard from you for three years and then all of a sudden you show up on Channel 52 helping the Flash," Mardon's grin turned into a sneer as he eyed Len suspiciously.

"Those two nimrods were destroying my city and I was in the neighborhood," Len shrugged, the Captain Cold persona coming as natural to him as breathing. No, he may not be a supervillain any longer, but he was a legend in this city and he damn well owned it.

"Where have you been?" Mardon ignored the response. Just who the hell Mardon thought he was talking to, Len didn't know but he had now gone from unimpressed to irritated.

"I don't answer to you, Mardon," Len spoke venomously. "In fact, it's you who owe me some. I know that jewelry job last Sunday was you."

"You can't prove it and neither can the cops," Mardon grinned again, leaning back against the chair, stretching his arms behind his head. Arrogance, Len loathed unearned arrogance.

"Were you trying to frame me or just demanding a little bit of attention like a spoiled child?" Len smirked. Mardon's face dropped immediately, all pretense of arrogance being replaced by anger.

"I was proving a point. You don't own this town anymore. I can dethrone you with one small break-in," Mardon sneered, standing from the chair now to tower over Leonard who still sat upon the desktop. "You bounced three years ago, only to come back out of nowhere and help the Flash?! Don't get any ideas thinking things are going to be the way they were, you're not the top shit anymore."

Len said nothing as Mardon ranted, just a cold judgmental look his response.
"You've gone soft," Mardon scoffed.

"Enough," Len finally shouted, standing from the desk to come toe to toe with Mardon. "I don't give a damn what you think about me. What I do care about is this city and the reputation of the Rogues. We're better than the work you just pulled."

"There is no we and there is no work. There are no Rogues," Mardon folded his arms over his chest. "Although I'm thinking about trying to bring it all back together. This time without their Captain."

"Be my guest in trying to rally them. You're hot-headed, unpredictable, and sloppy. And without Heatwave and Golden Glider, they'll be second rate at best," Len smirked, pleased with the fuming response he was getting from Mardon. "And let's be real, Mardon, without your powers you're nothing but a thug."

Leonard grabbed the cold gun off the desk, gripped it tight, and moved to walk past Mardon whose stare he could feel piercing his back.

"Don't you fucking turn your back on me, Snart!" Mardon roared and Len could have sworn he heard thunder emanate around himself and the Weather Wizard.

"I'll do whatever I damn please," Len called out over his shoulder, not sparing him a glance. "You can have the Rogues, this safe house, the title of top villain in Central City, be my guest. Just remember who it belonged to first and that they'd be secondhand from me, not earned. But you come for me again and I won't be as generous."

Leonard walked out of the safe house, bolstering his cold gun beneath his jacket, leaving Mardon behind and with it a piece of his old self he was happy to be rid of. He was walking away from a place he had no intention of returning to, an ally he had no plans to keep, and a legacy he no longer held in esteem. Now he was headed to dinner with his future, something much more appealing than anything behind him.

Five days after Snart was released from custody, Mark Mardon was pissed. For the last three years, he'd been in and out of prison, had his daughter try to kill him, watched as new villain after new villain tried to take down the Flash only to get so close to succeeding before being defeated. It should be him owning this town, should be him taking down the Flash. Having to watch from the sidelines in prison was torture, the town ripe for the taking, having the powers of a god and being bested time and time again by a guy who could run real fast.

Seeing Captain Cold back after so many years, helping the red-clad hero no less, infuriated Mardon. Snart was believed by many to be the best criminal in the city, disappeared, and gone for years only to return and be hailed as heroic after helping the beloved scarlet speedster take down some two-bit morons trying to blow up a museum. It was embarrassing for the former Rogue to watch and Mardon planned on proving a point. He had used his powers to create an ice blast that froze that store clerk solid, something Weather Wizard wasn't necessarily known for. And since that Killer Frost chick that came out of nowhere a couple of years ago worked with the Flash now after a brief stint as a villain, Captain Cold being back on the radar was an easy frame. How the hell he got off, Mardon didn't know.

To say that Mardon was angry would be an understatement. To be dismissed by Snart was one thing, but to discover that Cold was going straight was a whole other game. The criminal king of Central City had gone soft and was judging him?! Wherever Snart and Rory had gone off to these past few years, both men came back different. Snart was still a dick and Rory still a hothead, but Mardon couldn't place it. Rory never stuck around anymore and Snart swooped right back in with an attitude like he still owned the city without pulling a single heist.

Mardon took a drag from his cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall of the pawnshop a few blocks down the street from the safe house Snart had just stormed out of. Mardon followed, keeping his distance. He didn't know what his next course of action was, but he was going to prove to Snart he was more than just a thug, powers or no powers. He wouldn't be dismissed, not by Snart or anyone. He was a threat, and it was time this city felt it.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long for inspiration to strike.

Across the street he watched Snart pull the collar up on his jacket as he walked briskly, stopping just in front of a bistro with a glance towards his watch. Mardon moved himself to lean behind a lamppost, hoping to not catch the eye of the man across the street as he observed. It'd be ten minutes later, Snart glancing at his watch two more times before Mardon saw him smirk at someone approaching from down the street. Mardon averted his gaze to see a young man jogging towards Snart, dressed a little too clean for this neighborhood in dark jeans, gray sweater, and a maroon bomber jacket, a big smile clear on his familiar face. As the guy came to stand in front of Snart, he watched the criminal reach out and pull on the other man's jacket a bit, his words soundless to Mardon but the younger man clearly was amused as his smile got bigger before leaning in to plant a quick kiss to Snart's lips.

So there it was. Snart had someone he cared for, someone who was clearly in a different league. As the obvious partner of Snart grabbed his hand and pulled him along to follow him into the deli, Mardon realized why the kid looked familiar. He'd seen him at the precinct. He'd been processed by him. He'd seen his face when researching Joe West.

And suddenly Mardon couldn't help but smile as well, flicking the cigarette out as he pushed away from the lamp post and went off to formulate a plan that not only punished Snart, but dished out some long-awaited revenge for the death of his brother.