This Delicate Thing We've Made

by spacemonkey766

Barry never expected to find love again, certainly not with Leonard Snart. But falling for each other turned out to be the easy part. But was it sustainable, was it destined to burn out as quickly as it began, or were they in for something that would end up being the thing in this world that made each man both feel more at home than they'd ever been in their lives? [ColdFlash]

15. Black Out the Sun

This Delicate Thing We've Made

genre: Romance

rated: M

authors note: This chapter is loaded with warnings: kidnapping, torture, non-con touching, violence...also angst for days.

---

Chapter 15: Black Out the Sun

"No, turn off the sun, take down the moon
For I don't need them anymore
Go switch off the stars and paint the sky black
Love isn't ever coming back
There is no use in imagining a world without you

There''s an emptiness inside of me since you've been gone
All the world has lost its meaning, all my colors run

And there is no other way, there's no joy, there's no meaning
Just this hollowed out feeling
Now all the loves gone and nothing grows here
And I just feel wrong, so black out the sun"

---

Joe stood outside the heavy metal sliding door of the old lab, Barry's lab. It was just about the time Barry would be ready for his second meal of the day, about an hour after he'd come into work. Joe was hoping to lure his son away with a promise of as hefty a breakfast as he wanted on the Captain's, and his old man's, dime as well as an overdue conversation. It had been a week now since Barry confessed his relationship with Leonard Snart and regrettably Joe realized he had handled the situation all wrong.

Again.

His overprotectiveness of his children manifested in different ways and when mixed with hurt or deception, Joe relied on the silent treatment. He was well aware that his kids were more afraid of disappointing their father rather than making him angry, and nothing said disappointment like the silent treatment. It gave his kids time to think about what it was they'd done, whether it be stealing his convertible, applying to be a cop, deciding to play hero after being in a coma for nine months, dating his partner or a convicted criminal, anything that jeopardized their safety and well being. Joe thought his silence spoke louder than any shouting or reprimanding could. But it never had the desired effect, only ended up punishing them all rather than proving a point and Joe just wished he'd learned from his past mistakes already. Then there was the fact that his kids were adults, responsible and brave people who were perfectly capable of making their own choices for the lives. Sometimes it was difficult for Joe to keep that in mind when worried for them but that was his fault, not Barry's. Cecile was right, even if it took him a few extra days to realize it. It was time to clear the air.

His intentions and peace offering died before it could start however as Joe slid the door open and found an empty lab. No sign of the CSI, no indication that Barry had even come in yet. Joe fished his phone out of his pocket and called Barry's cell but after two attempts that just rang through, Joe eventually left a voicemail.

"Hey, Barr, it's me. Just checking in, which if I'm being honest, I should have done a lot sooner," Joe spoke into the phone as he walked down the stairs, heading to his office. "I think we need to talk and I hope you feel the same. Stop by my office or give me a call back when you get this. Love ya, son."

With a sigh he put the phone back in his pocket as he entered his office, closing the door behind him, dropping into his chair behind his desk. Detective for fifteen years, cop for over twenty, Captain of the precinct for less than one; father was still the toughest job to date.

The slamming of the door against the wall as it was flung open had him reaching for his gun on instinct. He fought that instinct though as Leonard Snart came striding into his office. Joe would be lying if he said the inkling to shoot the man didn't cross his mind but it wouldn't go very well if he shot his son's boyfriend while he was still trying to smooth things over.

"Snart, you must be out of your damn mind barging into my office," Joe cursed.

"When did you last see Barry?" Snart ignored the thinly veiled threatening voice as he stormed in.

"What-"

"Barry was supposed to be going to your house last night in a second attempt to try to talk to you. He hasn't answered any of my calls or texts since yesterday evening," Len interrupted. His tone and demeanor could be deemed threatening but Joe saw through it. It was sheer concern.

"He never came over last night," Joe stood up, his own worry pushing all other feelings aside, including anger at Leonard Snart for barging into the CCPD. He watched the anger fade from Snart as well, the tenseness in his body language, the tightness around his mouth releasing as he sighed, distressed as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. Joe had only seen the man without the aloof facade once before, at the bank hovering over a bleeding Barry.

"He told me he'd wouldn't be home last night and not to worry. Then this morning, I went for my coffee and newspaper at the corner bodega as usual and the clerk handed me this. He said someone left it for me but he couldn't identify who," Snart handed a yellow manila envelope to Joe. The top was torn open and all that was scrawled on the front was 'Snart' in sharpie.

Joe accepted the envelope hesitantly, a suspicious look directed at Len before reaching into the package. Pulling out what was enclose, he felt his insides freeze, not even able to gasp at the sight. A small stack of four polaroids. They were all close-ups, no clear shots of a face but what they could see of the person was recognizable to Joe.

The first photo was a shot from behind, Barry laying on the floor on his side, arms pulled tightly behind, tied at the wrists with rope, and more wrapped around his arms and chest. The next photo was from the same angle but zoomed in on his hands tied behind his back with the coarse rope, close enough you could how the fibers of the rope dug into the skin of the wrists below the unbuttoned sleeves of a flannel shirt. The third was a close up of the lower half of his face, a thick cloth pulled between his teeth, lips barely meeting, the bottom split. The final photo was a close up of the waist, the top of the photo revealing the button of the fly popped open while the bottom of the photo revealed blood-stained jeans, the image cutting off before being able to see the injury. Scrawled on the bottom white portion of the polaroid was 'see Joe West to complete the set'.

"What the hell are these?" Joe all but growled, glancing up at Len, the man's fists clenched beside him and jaw set. Before Len could answer, a uniformed officer knocked hesitantly on the open door frame.

"Sir?"

"Not now, Mitchell," Joe barked impatiently.

"Sir, this came for you and it was marked urgent," Mitchel said, clearly unsure if he was supposed to interrupt or not but it seemed like a pressing matter. At Joe's jerk of the head indicating the officer should come in, he handed a yellow manila envelope to the Captain and quickly fled.

The envelope was identical to the one Snart handed him, this one addressed to Captain Joe West in the same sharpie scrawl. However the words 'urgent' and 'time-sensitive' were added underneath in all caps. Leonard came around to Joe's side of the desk, hovering over his shoulder as he tore it open. Joe said nothing about the proximity or presumptuousness of seeing what was addressed to him. It was clear whoever had taken Barry, it involved both of them directly.

Joe pulled out a small stack of polaroids, just like the ones Snart had received. Four polaroids, all of Barry. These photos were different, however then the batch that had been left for Snart. They were a more full view of Barry's predicament, the first a full view of him from the front, clearly unconscious, his head angled down against the wood floor as he lay tied up tightly. The second showed a foreign hand with a fistful of hair held tight in his fingers, pulling to reveal Barry's face. His eyes were closed, features relaxed in unconsciousness but a clear view of a large gash on the right temple, drying blood on his forehead into his hairline, the gag cutting at the corners of his mouth. Flipping through to the third photo was a close up of his legs, the ankles tied together with rope, duct tape wrapped around a towel at the knee soaked with blood, revealing the injury causing the blood staining the pant leg around it from the photo in Snart's set. The fourth and final photo was the one that chilled him the most. The anonymous hand was back but this time it was gripping his chin, forcing Barry to face the camera, his eyes open but just barely, like they hadn't been open long enough to focus on what was happening to him.

The black sharpie scrawl at the bottom of the final photo threatened "we'll be in touch".

"Who the fuck would do this?" Len asked through gritted teeth as Joe pulled out his phone, shaking his head, trying to take deep breaths to calm the fear and rage as he dialed.

"I don't know but whoever it is has something against both of us and we need to figure that out," Joe responded, addressing Len as he held up the phone before directing his words to the person on the other end. "Cisco, has Barry's suit been in S.T.A.R. Labs the whole night?"

There was a pause as Cisco checked the tracking data on the other end of the call.

"Damnit, ok then I need you to ping his phone." Another pause. "I'll explain later, Cisco, just track his damn phone." Joe couldn't even feel guilty for snapping at the young man, not with the distress he was currently trying to keep at bay. "You're sure? Ok, send me the exact location and get everyone to S.T.A.R. Labs. We'll be there soon."

Joe hung up and turned to Len. "Cisco got the GPS coordinates on Barry's phone."

"You drive," Len said, receiving a tight nod from Joe as he followed him out into the bullpen of CCPD. And suddenly everything between them stopped mattering, the history, the differences, the animosity. The only thing that mattered was what they shared right now, concern, anger, fear, and Barry Allen.

---

Barry awoke slowly, a foggy blanket of confusion warping the thoughts and images in his mind as he tried to remember what had knocked him out. With great effort he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to get them to focus until all he saw was dark blank space around him. He lifted his head slowly, wincing at the stabbing pain he felt behind his eyes. Raising his head, which felt so much heavier than it should, his vision transformed from blurry shapes to a sharper image of what appeared to be an empty room, old and worn, a house or an apartment maybe. As he tried to bring a hand to rub at his throbbing head, the inability to move his arm jolted him into awareness.

He searched wildly around, trying to grapple with the predicament he was in. He was lying on his side, upper body restrained tightly, a length of rope wrapped twice around his chest just below his shoulders, binding his upper arms securely to his sides. A twist of his arms revealed more rope was inflexibly cinching his wrists together behind his back.

He moaned in pain as awareness returned, the sound muffled by a thick cloth tied between his teeth and secured behind his head. He pushed at his gag with his tongue, rubbing the bandana against his shoulder, trying to loosen it but bit down on the fabric as a sudden wave of pain emanated from his right leg. Looking down he saw dried blood staining the jeans where duct tape wrapped thoroughly around his knee and held what appeared to be a small towel soaked in blood. He could feel the pain emanating from his knee, concerned because even though he didn't know how long he was unconscious, the wound should have at least started healing by now and based on the amount of pain and blood, that hadn't happened.

As Barry moved, he could feel his head swimming, pain at his right temple, and that tight feeling against his skin of dried blood. Barry struggled to sit up, scrambling to get his legs, bound at the ankles with rope, underneath him, trying to keep pressure off his right leg, shimmying his body till he could slowly prop himself up into a sitting position, leaning heavily back against the wall. He tried to phase through the bonds, tried to vibrate, but felt nothing, no spark of the Speed Force, no hint of the lightning coursing through his body. He could feel it was just plain rope binding his arms and around his ankles yet something was dampening his powers.

He shifted his focus back to his surroundings. There was nothing special about the room he was in. There was a door directly across from him, the only one he could see. The room was empty except for a small folding table and two wooden chairs in the corner, one window behind him that was heavily boarded up, and the only light source from a very old looking hanging lamp above the center of the room. The old floral and faded wallpaper was peeling slightly off the walls and the wood floors were cracked and flaking, but it lacked the dank and stuffy smell one would imagine from the looks of it. It must be abandoned, but only recently.

Barry strained to pull free of the ropes again, twisting his wrists behind him till he began to sweat and his fingers started to go numb. But the ropes held and with a tired grunt, he went limp against the wall behind him and stopped struggling. He rested for a bit, leaning his head back against the wall, trying to figure a way out of this. He bent over in half and slowly brought his legs up beneath him, balancing on both of his feet as he teetered on his bound legs, trying to stand before the weight on his right knee caused him to shout in pain, his legs sliding out beneath him and Barry crumpled to the floor. He bit down on the gag trying to stifle his shout of pain, his forehead pressed firmly to the wood beneath him, fighting back choked tears of agony and frustration.

It came to him in flashes then, first the fractured memory of waking up in tight musty confines, unable to stretch out or see anything, but could hear the road beneath him as they drove, figuring he was in the trunk of a car before passing out.

Then he remembered how he got in this mess in the first place.

Barry had a daily routine. In the morning he would speed to an alley with no side entrances to any of the nearby shops that were right by the closest bus station to Jitters, walk the four blocks over to grab his morning coffee, and then casually walk down the next block over to the CCPD. It was the same routine every morning, like clockwork, that helped him keep discretion about his powers and identity. Most nights when he would leave work, if he wasn't flashing off to some emergency, it was the same plan in reverse. He would walk the five blocks from CCPD to the bus station, sometimes stopping at Jitters to grab an evening snack or cup of coffee, duck into the nearby vacant alley, and head to usually either S.T.A.R. Labs or Len's apartment.

Last night he had left work around seven as usual and was on his way to Jitters to grab coffee and a box of bear claws to bring to the West home. It had been almost a week now of minimal contact with Joe and he'd finally had enough. He needed to see him, to make Joe talk this through with him. He was originally supposed to be on Flash duty, but with the city quiet, Ralph volunteered to cover and Barry was going to drop by unannounced. He'd told Len not to wait up, hoping they'd talk into the night and if it got too late, he'd crash in his old room if it went well.

He was enjoying a normal paced walk in the crisp fall evening air, two Jitters To-Go cups in a tray in one hand balanced atop the pastry box in the other, thinking briefly of flashing back to grab the coat he left in his lab but deciding the flannel button-up shirt he wore would suffice for the brief walk.

He was just two blocks from his destination, the alley where he could discretely zip away without anyone noticing, when he heard a noise from the small side street he was passing.

"Help, " he heard a strangled voice call out from the alley. "Please, someone help."

"Hello?" Barry called out as he turned into the small street between the two shops, searching for the source of the plea. It was dark, the sun had already set in the early fall evening but he could make out a delivery van parked by the wall of one of the side entrances to a florist while a black mustang was parked alongside a dumpster at the far end.

He didn't notice someone emerge from the shadows behind him until he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel as it was pressed against the back of his head.

"So quick to help those in need," the voice behind him mocked, the gun tapping against the back of his skull with two prompting nudges. "Your foster dad must be so proud. So brave."

Barry stood still, recognizing the voice, knowing that to tap into the Speed Force would give his alter ego away and this was not someone he could risk knowing his secret. He would have to settle this as Barry Allen.

"You don't want to do this," Barry said, voice even, not giving any indication of the panic he was keeping at bay. Whatever retort that was on the tip of his attacker's tongue was interrupted as Barry kicked backward with his leg, hitting his attacker in the groin. He felt the gun drop from where it was pointed at the back of his head as his attacker doubled over in pain.

Barry spun, dropping the coffee and pastries to the ground, landing a punch to his attacker's face but he had no time to tap into the Speed Force to phase or dodge as a soft muffled 'fwip' was heard before pain erupted through his right leg, the sound that of a gun with a silencer as a bullet tore through his knee. Barry collapsed onto his back to the ground with a cry as white erupted behind his eyes.

The man was instantly on top of him, knees digging into his arms, pinning him to the ground, one hand quickly clamping over his mouth while the other steadied the barrel of the gun in the center of his forehead. Subdued and injured as he was, escaping a bullet at point-blank range to his head at top speed would be impossible.

"Brave but stupid," the voice above him had grinned. Through the haze of pain, the face hovering over him was exactly who he thought it was. The knowledge was useless though as the gun was lifted and crashed down on his temple, turning the world black around him.

At least until waking up briefly in the trunk of a car before coming to full awareness here.

"Oh, good," a voice interrupted his memory recall, Barry's head snapping up to stare at the man leaning casually in the doorway across the room. "You're finally awake this time. You were up a bit earlier but were zero help during our photoshoot before you passed out on me again. "

Mark Mardon.

"I thought maybe I cracked you too hard or you lost too much blood before I wrapped you up and our fun would stop before it even got a chance to begin," Mardon smiled, clearly pleased with himself and amused by his captive. He moved into the room, closing the door behind him before casually walking over to where Barry sat back against the wall, crouching down to a squat to meet his captive at eye level. When Mardon reached out a hand towards him, Barry couldn't help but flinch, cursing inwardly at himself for doing so. "Relax, kid, I'm not gonna hurt you just yet."

Mardon hooked a finger between the fabric and Barry's cheek and roughly pulled it from his teeth, letting it hang around his neck.

"I guess shooting me in the leg doesn't count?" Barry sneered, stretching his jaw.

"You kicked me in the nuts, seemed only fair," Mardon shrugged, smiling curtly.

"What do you want, Mardon?" Barry glared at the man in front of him.

"Oh, good, you know who I am. It's nothing personal against you kid. I've got a point to prove to your boyfriend and a score to settle with your foster dad," Mardon said as he stood, moving across the room to where the table and chairs were.

He grabbed one of the chairs by the top rung and dragged it across the floor to the center of the room, the sound of wood scraping against wood reverberating in the emptiness. Mardon took the few strides from the middle of the room to where Barry leaned back against the wall, watching him. He bent over and untied the rope around Barry's upper body, slinging it over his own shoulder and leaving the wrist and ankle bindings intact. Mardon bent down again to hoist Barry up by his arm when he quickly had to dodge as Barry threw his head to the side, narrowly missing knocking into his jaw, and falling back on his heels. Regaining his footing, he grabbed for Barry who was struggling to shake him off.

With Barry's ankles bound together, wrists lashed behind his back, and wounded, he really shouldn't be this difficult to manage. But Mardon, like every bully in his life, underestimated him and Barry would take any opportunity to use it to his advantage. Mardon wasn't having any of it though as he dug his fingers into Barry's arm and dragged him back across the floor. Despite his captive's thrashing, Mardon managed to hoist Barry up and throw him into the armless wooden chair. He grabbed the coil of rope from over his shoulder and before Barry could try to wiggle himself out of the chair, Mardon wrapped the rope over his chest and around the back of the chair two times, securing him there even as Barry continued to fight the bindings.

"Fuck kid, you got a lot of fire in you for someone so...scrawny," Mardon chuckled loudly, out of breath from their little struggle.

"Untie me and you'll see what I'm capable of," Barry sneered, trying to catch his own breath, trying not to show the fresh pain he was feeling in his leg from their little tryst. Mardon chuckled again.

Barry wasn't expecting the punch that landed squarely on his jaw, snapping his head back. Mardon just watched as he recovered from the blow, Barry shaking his head, spitting out blood to the side before glaring back up at him. Another punch landed in the abdomen, Barry folding over as much as the restraints to the chair would allow.

Before he had a chance to fully recover, Mardon gripped the back of his skull, pulling on the hair and yanking his head back.

"You got spunk. I can see why Snart would be interested in a little shit like you. But listen here," Mardon seethed, giving the hair in his grip another hard yank, Barry hissing in pain. "You're a means to an end. I'm gonna torture you to torture West and Snart. If you do not cooperate, I can kill you right now and move on to people who mean more to them, like Snart's sister or West's daughter. You're a matter of convenience Allen, two birds with one stone. You cooperate, play your role, I won't go after them instead and I'll even try not to hurt you too much before I kill you in front of them."

Mardon let go of his hair then and moved across the room. Barry swallowed a few times, pressing his lips together as he tried to calm the nausea from the punch to his gut but unable to stop himself from his next question.

"That's your endgame? You torture me, kill me, and then what? Revel in your victory until they throw your ass in Iron Heights?" Barry challenged, his tone conveying more strength then he was currently feeling.

"No, I torture you until they find you, till it gets them so riled up they're desperate. Desperate people are sloppy, make mistakes," Mardon replied, his back turned to him as he fiddled with things on the card table in the corner Barry couldn't see. "You're the bait, kid. They come find you, I kill you in front of them, let West know how it feels, let Snart know I won. Then I kill them both."

"They'll stop you," Barry said, voice steely, determined not to let Mardon get to him.

"I hope they try," Mardon replied, a vaguely amused grin on his face, returning over to hover where Barry sat, a phone in his hand. "I already sent them some pictures while you were sleeping so they understand who's in control. What comes next depends on how they react. Either way, unfortunately, this just isn't going to go well for you."

---

"Okay, we see Barry stop here," Cisco said as he paused the surveillance video on the monitors. "He waits a second," Cisco pushed the play button on the computer, "then he turns and walks into the alley out of the frame."

"It looks like he hears something that catches his attention but the footage has no sound," Ralph added, his natural curiosity for a mystery being completely overshadowed by his concern for a man he viewed as a little brother.

"We checked the shops bordering the side street he entered where we found his phone but no one saw heard anything suspicious. No witnesses, no suspects," Joe said as he placed the plastic evidence bag containing Barry's cell phone onto the desk. "This was the only one with a camera."

The coordinates Cisco had sent Joe after they received the polaroids led to a side street a couple of blocks from the Jitters. They had found Barry's phone, abandoned and left for them to find along with his wallet, a small pool of blood, and two spilled over coffee cups with Barry's name scribbled on the sides beside an upturned box but of bear claws. Joe had to swallow his grief when the indication on one of the cups was the way he took his coffee, another stark and painful reminder of his remorse, knowing that Barry had been on his way to see him last night.

He had gotten the footage with a flash of his Captain's badge, but when Joe showed the owner a picture of Barry asking if she'd seen him, the owner of the small florist shop offered whatever help she could. Apparently Barry had been a customer a few times, was kind to her, and she was more than happy to hand over the jump drive with the video from the storefront that bordered the side street.

After thoroughly searching the street, Joe and Snart returned to S.T.A.R. Labs. They had shared what they knew with the team, had all poured over the polaroids, trying to find something in the background that gave them a clue on where Barry was being held captive, who could have taken him, but came up short. Now they were obsessively reviewing the camera footage.

"The time stamp on the feed from when he disappears is seven-fifteen p.m. Snart got his photos around six-thirty a.m. and Dad about a half-hour later but we have no idea when the pictures were actually taken," Iris couldn't help but pace in front of the console as the team gathered around in the Cortex. She was stressed, worried, just like they all were. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, the images of Barry unconscious, tied and gagged were stuck behind her eyelids, her heart racing since she first saw them, feeling like she was just on the verge of a panic attack every moment Barry was missing from, trying desperately to keep it at bay.

"Iris is right. They've had Barry for nearly fifteen hours, why wouldn't they reach out and demand a ransom or something by now?" Cecile added, her voice shaky, her empathy powers picking up on every person's emotions in the room; anger, fear, worry, guilt, all threatening to overwhelm her. She swallowed it down though, determined to use it to her advantage to comfort the people she cared about rather than let them consume her. She reached out to rub a reassuring hand up and down Cisco's arm, the person in closest proximity to her that needed comfort. Cisco was currently alternating between chewing on the tip of a coffee stirrer and twirling it between his fingers as he stared at the screen. He was razor-focused on the video, looking for any little detail to try to help his best friend, the first time since taking the meta cure regretting not having his vibe powers.

"We don't even know if they're after a ransom. Considering who they sent the photos to, its gotta be a personal vendetta," Ralph replied, rewinding and rewatching the footage of Barry entering the alley.

"But in what kind of bizarre ven diagram do Snart and Joe have people in common? I mean, other than Barry," Cisco sighed, slapping Ralph's hand away from the keypad so they could watch the video play out.

"Even if Barry was injured or unconscious for half of the fifteen hours he's been missing, he wouldn't stick around that long tied up just to preserve his identity. He'd figure something out. Why hasn't he escaped by now?" Ralph asked, looking around to the room, a lingering look to Snart who just stood there, arms crossed and adding nothing to the conversation, a stoic mask on his face hiding all emotions. But Ralph saw the flinch when he asked the question, knowing the answer that sprung immediately to his mind probably sprung to Snart's as well; maybe Barry was too hurt to escape.

"No trace evidence on anything, no prints other than Barry's," Caitlin bit her bottom lip. "And he was the only donor in the blood sample from the scene."

Len inhaled deeply through his nose, running a hand across his face. He hated this feeling of being powerless, created a rage inside him that he was currently doing everything in his power to keep to himself because what good would that do for Barry right now. There had been no cameras in the alley, no video or witnesses to indicate to them who took him or what they'd done to him to cause the blood found near his phone and overturned Jitters cups. All they had was the front of the alley where Barry had entered.

"Wait," Len suddenly turned from where he had been watching the overhead monitor to face the group crowded around the console in the Cortex. It was the first word he spoke since he'd explained how he came into possession of the photos when they first arrived over an hour ago. "We only saw Barry go into the alley. How did whoever took him get him out of there?"

"The only footage of any vehicle leaving is the delivery van for the florist," Joe replied, sighing heavily. "And the delivery driver's alibi checks out."

"But what about the other entrance of the alley?" Len asked, prompting Cisco to type away furiously.

"There's no camera's at that end," Joe shook his head.

"No, but there might be security cameras on the other side of the street," Cisco smiled, hacking into their system and pulling up the feed to the day of Barry's disappearance. The footage was from a jewelry store on the other side of the street that had a slight view of the alley entrance. They watched as the video feed from their security system sprang to life on the monitors, Cisco fast-forwarding through the afternoon's footage.

"What are we looking for?" Ralph asked. They stared at the screen for a few minutes until Len pointed to the bottom right corner.

"There!" They watched as a black vehicle turned into the alley that was located in the corner of the screen about forty-five minutes before the time stamp from the florist's footage where saw Barry enter on the other side.

"Fast forward," Joe ordered. A few minutes went past until he called out again. "Stop!"

Cisco paused it on the frame where it appeared like the same black vehicle appeared to back out of the alley. With a few types of the keyboard, he zoomed in on the vehicle to reveal an image of the side of what looked like a black Shelby Mustang.

"You think that could be the car that drove away with Barry?" Ralph questioned, squinting at the still frame. Joe nodded before turning to face Len.

"And I think we both know someone who has an affinity for Shelby Mustangs," Joe frowned. Before Len could respond he felt a vibration in his pocket.

Pulling out his phone revealed an incoming video call from an unknown number. He looked to Joe who nodded, the team stopping in their tracks, holding their breaths as Len hit the 'accept' button.

The phone sprung to life and the smug grin of Mark Mardon filled the screen. Len could barely contain the instant rage that surged through him.

"Mardon, you son of a bitch, where the fuck is he?" Snart immediately growled out. He knew he should remain emotionless, that this was exactly what Mardon wanted but right now, all the rage and fear he felt pounding in his chest won out.

"Snart, that is not how you answer a phone," Mardon laughed, a sick twisted smile on his face. "So angry, such language. I thought your little boy-toy tamed you."

"Tell me where you are and I'll show you how tamed I am," Len threatened through gritted teeth.

"Ya know, your boyfriend tried to threaten me with a similar sentiment. Whose rubbing off on who, I wonder," Mardon grinned over his shoulder to someone they couldn't see off-camera.

"Let me see him," Len demanded.

"No. Would you like me to make some lame joke about him being tied up at the moment?" The grin as Mardon spoke caused the blood in Len's veins to boil, never wanting to shoot someone so badly. "So is it just you or did you team up with West to complete my little photo series?"

"He's here," Len glanced up to Joe who came to stand beside him, reaching for the phone.

"Give me my kid back, Mardon," Joe gripped the phone tightly.

"Now isn't this sweet, Allen? Your dad and your boyfriend, hanging out," Mardon smiled over his shoulder again, mocking the two men glaring into the phone screen.

"Cut the crap, Mardon, what do you want with Barry?" Joe snapped furiously. The fact that Mardon was addressing his son and he couldn't see if he was okay had Joe's heart hammering in his chest with anxiety and anger.

"I don't actually want anything with the kid, West," Mardon sneered, clearly satisfied with the reactions he was getting. "What I want is for you to recognize whose in control here. What I want is for you to know what it feels like for someone to take away your family. What I want is for you to realize just what I'm capable of."

"Another tantrum," Leonard rolled his eyes, unable to stop the remark but instantly regretting it when he saw Mardon's expression shift, from that arrogant amusement to a look in his eyes that could only be described as psychotic. With a shake of the camera as Mardon moved, suddenly in full view was Barry and the collective gasp from around the Cortex as they caught sight barely pierced the blood rushing in Len's ears.

Barry was tied to an armless wooden chair, his arms pulled back and bound behind him. Rope wrapped around his chest and around the back of the chair, the gray T-shirt underneath his open blue plaid shirt was ripped at the neckline, no blood but it appeared like he had struggled. His ankles were bound tightly together, the rope cinching the fabric of his jeans just above his converse, the right pant leg stained with blood around where the knee was wrapped with duct tape. Dried blood crusted at a large cut at his hairline just above where a black bandana was wrapped over his eyes, a white bandana folded into a thick strip pulled tight between his lips.

"This is no tantrum. This is me proving a point," Mardon said, coming to stand behind Barry, gripping his shoulder hard with one hand while the other held up the phone so both he and his captive were in the frame. Mardon pulled the gag down from Barry's teeth. "Say hi to your boyfriend, Allen."

"Len-mmph!" Barry barely got out before Mardon moved his hand to clamp tightly over his mouth.

"Goddamnit, Mardon, he's got nothing to do with anything. You want your revenge, let him go and you can deal with me personally!" Len shouted at the phone as he watched Barry, still blindfolded, try to dislodge the hand unshakably gripping over his mouth.

"So noble of you, Snart. I'll tell you what. You get West to get me my brother back and I'll give you back the little bastard," Mardon sneered, gripping tightly over Barry's mouth till the skin beneath his fingers was white.

"Just tell us what you want," Joe begged, hand reaching out to grip the edge of the desk in front of him.

"I want you to suffer. I want you to watch as I take away a piece of you, knowing this is your fault. I want you to stew in the fact that I've beaten you both by one simple snatch and grab. Without a crew, without much effort, and without my powers," Mardon moved his hand away from Barry's mouth to lift the blindfold up and over his head.

Barry blinked suddenly at the sudden return of his vision, eyes widening when he found both Len and Joe on the screen in front of him.

"Don't come for me! He'll ki-mmm!" Barry was cut off again as the hand returned to clamp over his mouth, shouting beneath the hand gagging him as Mardon pulled, forcing his head back against Mardon's shoulder.

"Barry's right. You come for him and I'll kill you. But I'm not quite ready to do that yet. I'm gonna drag this out, watch you squirm. I'm using a meta proof security system to not only prevent myself from being tempted to use my powers because I don't need them to do what I have planned, but also so that you don't get any ideas sending your speedy friend in red to come and save him."

Joe closed his eyes, their answer on why Barry hadn't escaped provided. Mardon had rigged wherever he was holding Barry with a power dampener, completely oblivious the dumb luck of having the Flash in his possession and was cutting him off from escaping.

"You cowardice piece of shit," Len cursed, jaw set and eyes narrowed, the voice in his head screaming at Mardon to get his hands off of Barry.

"Careful, Snart," he sneered in a low voice, eyes narrowed into slits. The amusement gone for a brief moment before it returned. "This can turn from threatening to life-threatening real quick."

Suddenly with the hand still clamped over Barry's mouth, Mardon shifted his index finger and thumb up to pinch Barry's nose closed, cutting off his air completely. Barry convulsed and bucked against the chair and the hand cutting off his air supply. His frantic eyes, wide and desperate sought out Joe and Len on the screen before clenching closed. Joe and Len shouted for Barry, for Mardon to stop as Barry shook his head from side to side, muffled moans and whimpers as he tried to fight but Mardon's grip was relentless.

A few more agonizing seconds and Mardon released the hold on his face and Barry instantly began dragging in deep breaths, raw fear in his eyes as he coughed deeply before trying to take in more air. Mardon barely gave him the time to get his breathing under control before pulling the gag back up over his mouth.

"I've got the power over his life, over your lives. Don't forget it," Mardon said winking at the camera. "Be in touch."

And with one last leer at Barry still trying to catch his breath in the chair, the connection cut out with a beep, and the screen went black like an eclipse blocking the sun, blocking them from seeing the person they both loved.

"God fucking dammit," Len roared, throwing the phone across the room before storming from the Cortex into the medbay. Joe slammed his fist on the desk and was immediately embraced by Iris, tears in her eyes. He held his daughter tight, relishing in her presence and safety but shaking with fear and anger after what they all just witnessed.

Over Iris' head pressed into his shoulder, Joe saw Ralph with a hand on Cecile's shoulder, saw Cisco holding the hand of Frost who at some point took over Caitlin to protect her, just like she usually did when Caitlin was scared or angry. He could hear Len in the medbay, cursing as he threw something that shattered. Joe couldn't blame him, he felt the same, they all did. That frenzy of grief when the notion of losing someone hung over them like a sword, desperate to figure out how to stop the world from spinning madly around them so they could bring him home but knowing that if they lost Barry, their world just may as well just stop spinning anyway.

---

Barry slept through the night, if you could call it sleep, or if it was even night at all. It was more like his body was exhausted, mentally drained, craving rest or a reprieve. But he was still bound to the chair tightly, still gagged, and had probably passed out more than actually falling asleep.

After the video call, Mardon had left him alone and had yet to return. He had no idea how long ago that was or how long he'd been held captive. He had no concept of time, the window boarded up so the room was always dark, unsure if the sliver of light that cracked through was from daylight or street lamps. Every so often he could hear the sound of a train going through in the near distance, but that didn't tell him where he was in the city or if he was even still in Central City.

At least he knew now why he wasn't healing, why he couldn't access his powers to phase out of the restraints. He breathed hard, trying to slow down his racing heart. Not having his powers to help him terrified him. He'd been in difficult situations before, this not being the first time he'd woken up after being knocked out, but nine times out of ten he was in his suit. He was the Flash, the hero of Central City, he always found a way. But now, in this situation, he was just Barry. Mardon had shot him in the leg, shot the Flash in the damn leg, and he didn't even realize he'd clipped his wings because Mardon was only after Barry Allen. Dumb luck was all it was. But as anxious as all this made him, Barry knew that his team would find him, they always did. And Barry wasn't sure Mardon realized just how dedicated of a father Joe was or how fiercely protective Len could be.

As the silent moments ticked by, the quiet nearly suffocating him, Barry couldn't help but think of Len and Joe. He saw the desperation on both of their faces in the brief moments he was on the other end of the FaceTime call, could hear the anger and fear in their voices. Mardon had no idea what he was in for when they found him but Barry was more concerned with what happened when they did. Mardon had made it clear to him that he had every intention of killing them both. As much as he wanted to be saved, part of him hoped they wouldn't find him. He didn't want to risk Mardon getting the upper hand and killing Len and Joe, he couldn't protect them without his powers.

As that singular thought struck him, it was like a surge of lightning. His exhaustion, frustration, and defeat was washed away suddenly. He was more than his powers. He could find a way out of this. He wasn't going to sit around and wait to be saved, wouldn't put the people he loved at risk by uselessly waiting for them to come and find him. Barry twisted against the restraints, still no give in the rope binding his wrists but the writhing when Mardon had tried to smother him had loosened the rope tied around his chest to the chair back. He could hear the squeak of the old wood of the chair, could feel one of the legs go rogue beneath him, the slight give of the wood rungs of the back as he squirmed and it gave him a bit of hope.

He began to shift from side to side fiercely, trying to create some movement in the chair. It wasn't easy with his bound legs but eventually, he got the momentum up enough where the chair rocked on its legs until suddenly it tipped over enough to the left for gravity to take over. The chair came crashing on its side and with luck, the old wood splintered beneath him. For the first time, Barry was thankful for the gag, biting down on a pained shout as he felt the force of the fall pop his shoulder, praying he didn't dislocated it. White spots erupted behind his eyes as the shooting pain ricocheted through his arm and his wounded leg. It had been worth it though, the back of the chair having cracked with the impact of the fall, loosening the rope securing around his chest to give him enough slack to wiggle and stretch out from beneath it.

He rolled onto his back, desperate to get the pressure off his left shoulder, biting down on the gag as he rode out the wave of fresh pain from his injuries, giving himself a moment before resuming his attempt at escape. He shimmied back against the nearest wall, trying to catch his breath and ignore the pain in his knee and the throbbing of his shoulder. His eyes searched the room desperately for something to use to cut the ropes binding his wrists behind his back but all that remained was the other old chair and small table in the corner.

He had no chance of escaping with his hands literally tied behind his back. He braced himself against the wall, leaning his shoulders back and taking a deep breath. If they were cuffed this would be easier because there would be a small bit of slack between his arms but tied together like this was going to be uncomfortable, to say the least. He shifted till he was in a squat against the wall, balancing precariously on bound ankles and ignoring the pain in his knee, took another deep breath, and leaned back as much as he could. His shoulders screamed in protest as they were wrenched forward, bringing his arms under his bound legs, lifting his feet, moving through the pain in his leg to thread them through his bound arms. He bit down hard on the gag as his shoulders were wrenched completely around as he brought his hands in front of him.

He collapsed against the wall then, breathing heavy, swallowing down the nausea as pain ricocheted from the gunshot wounded knee, a throbbing in his shoulders from the pull of wrenching them the way he did, and almost certain that he fractured or tore something in the left one between the fall and the unnatural stretching. Barry counted to thirty to slow his breathing, waiting for the pain to subside before reaching up his bound hands to pull the cloth free from his jaw, letting it hang around his neck. He groaned a little when he saw the condition of his wrists, the skin beneath the rope inflamed, blood-streaked from his desperate attempts at trying to free himself having chaffed and broken the skin. His hands were still bound but at least in front of them he had a better chance of getting out of here. As he worked the rope free from his ankles, he was grateful for the jeans that spared his legs the same treatment as his wrists.

When he finally unknotted the cinched rope from around his ankles, slowly and steadily by leaning heavily against the wall, Barry was able to stand. He limped across the room, trying to keep the pressure off his right leg, to the only door but that proved pointless as it was locked from the other side. Glimpsing across the room to the singular window, he could see up at the top where the boards were clumsily secured. If he could pry the plywood free, it could be a means of escape that didn't include trying to navigate an unknown house past wherever his captor was located. He didn't know if he was on the ground floor or not, but it was worth a shot.

He limped his way across the room again carefully, grabbing the other chair from the corner and dragging it awkwardly to underneath the window. He leaned heavily on his left leg as he tried to steady his injured right leg on the seat of the chair, bracing himself to put pressure on the injury but when he attempted to shift his weight to it, the injured knee gave out and Barry crumpled to the floor with a shout.

It was then he heard the door swing open and Barry collapsed in a heap on the floor, knowing he'd just blown his chance.

"A for effort," Mardon scoffed as he walked towards him, grabbing Barry by his good shoulder. As Mardon lifted him off the floor he struggled and pulled away as he was dragged backward, trying to jerk free, unwilling to just comply. But Mardon grew impatient quickly with his struggling and slammed Barry back hard. Barry groaned and let out a breathless gasp as Mardon took him by the shirt, pinning him to the wall. Mardon launched his fist into his gut and Barry hunched over from the pain, a strained groan leaving his throat.

"I warned you. Just play along like a good little captive and you wouldn't get hurt too much," Mardon grabbed him by the arms and pulled Barry along, half dragging him out of the room and down the hall. "Couldn't even do that. Now our next gift to your loved ones will hafta not be just punishment for them but also a teaching moment for you."

Barry's knee throbbed trying to keep up, his shoulder screaming as Mardon roughly guided him down what appeared to be a hallway in a house. It was the first glimpse he'd been given of where he was being held captive outside of the one room he'd been confined to. The question on why Mardon would keep him in a rundown house of all places was pushed away as he tripped on his feet, sending a fresh wave of pain through his leg like lightning and he couldn't stop his legs crumpling beneath him with a cry of pain.

Mardon's hold on him kept him from falling completely to the floor but he made no effort to help him back up as he dragged him the rest of the way into another room down the hall where an old bed sat against the wall.

It was a metal wire frame with elaborate antique designed head and footboards, no mattress, just the wooden support beams. Mardon manhandled him onto his back onto the bed frame, instantly grabbing Barry's still bound wrists and pulled them up over his head.

"Argh, shit!" Barry shouted at the painful pull on his shoulder as Mardon grabbed rope from the floor, wrapped it around his already tied wrists and fastened them securely to the iron headboard of the bed over his head with very little slack.

"This is your fault, kiddo. I told you not to try anything," Mardon scolded, grabbing Barry's left leg, binding the ankle securely to one end of the footboard before moving around the bed and doing the same thing to his right.

"Fuck you," he mumbled through gritted teeth. Mardon just laughed, reaching into his pocket for a navy bandana, balling it up in his fist. Barry sighed as he saw it, knowing what was coming.

"See this is why I do you the favor of keeping you gagged," Mardon said in faux sympathy as bent over to meet Barry's eye level. With one hand his fingers pinched Barry's jaw till it forced his mouth open enough to shove the cloth in Barry's mouth, his other fingers prodding it until it filled the space behind his teeth. Mardon then took the white bandanna that still hung around Barry's neck and pulled it up to his lips, reaching behind Barry's head to tug it tighter between Barry's teeth over the other cloth.

"Time to put on a show, kid," Mardon smiled lewdly, pulling his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen and started recording. Barry's eyes widened.

"Let's see what has Snart ready to give it all up for," Mardon reached down and lifted Barry's shirt, his hand gliding across the torso, stroking his chest and pinching at his skin. Barry grunted and squirmed trying to pull away from Mardon's touch.

"Not so scrawny after all, lot of muscle you're hiding," Mardon mocked, the phone in his left hand recording as his right hand traveled across Barry's body as he tried to twist and escape the unwelcoming touch.

"Come on, kid, is it just Snart or you got a thing for criminals?" Mardon teased, playing with the button on his jeans. Barry responded with shouting and frantic struggling in his restraints. He couldn't do anything but try to resist as his pants were tugged down his hips little by little, just far enough to get a peek at the briefs beneath. He roughly grabbed Barry's denim-clad thigh and Barry continued to fight, even though he knew he was just playing into Mardon's hands.

Barry was breathing heavily, panting through his nose as he bit down on the gag, bucking against Mardon's exploring hands. He froze as Mardon's hands hovered over his groin but didn't touch, couldn't help but whimper and close his eyes, not seeing Mardon focus the phone on his face.

"I bet that mouth of yours is good for more than just smart ass remarks, huh," Mardon laughed, then turned off the recording before standing up. Barry's eyes flew open as he heard the 'ping' of the camera being turned off, Mardon's hands suddenly removed from his body. Barry gazed up at him, angry, confused. The comment before had him certain Mardon was just about to take this further than nonconsensual groping, but then he stopped recording and pulled away.

Barry just watched through wide suspicious eyes, watching as what he could only guess was Mardon sending off the recording to Len before pocketing the phone.

"Lucky for you, I'm not a fag. That was just to get your boyfriend riled up," He wiped his hands off on his jeans and moved away from the bed. Barry closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control, trying to not get upset about the molestation he just experienced and grateful that it hadn't gone any further.

"Now you hang out here while I take care of a few things. But don't worry, I'll be back later for some more fun," Mardon winked at him before leaving him alone in the room, closing the door behind him. Barry swore at him in response but the cloths stuffed in his mouth suppressed his voice.

He let his head fall back against the wooden board beneath him, not even trying to free himself because god he was just so tired. And hungry. And thirsty. And everything ached. He couldn't stop the few tears of pain that came now that he was alone, didn't try to stop them as they escaped his eyes. He failed at escaping, might as well let his tears do what he couldn't.

---

Len's hand was shaking as he lowered the phone, thankful he was alone in the Cortex, and knowing he couldn't show West the video just sent to him. He almost wished the phone had shattered when he had thrown it across the room yesterday so he wouldn't have had to watch Mardon's hands violating Barry. But not watching it meant Barry was truly alone with Mardon and Len wouldn't allow it, would force himself to watch every video Mardon sent or answer every one of his calls if it meant a chance to see or hear that the man he loved was still alive and that Barry knew Len would always be on the other end.

And for that reason, he slid the phone into his back pocket instead of hurling it across the room again like he wanted too. He could feel his heart rate escalating, feel his breathing become shallow and rapid as his anger rose. He glowered around the Cortex, wishing either Ramon or Dibny was here to shout at or West to argue with. But everyone was doing what they were supposed to, tracking down leads, trying to bring Barry home after he was taken from them two days ago.

Two days. Fifty-three hours and seventeen minutes, actually. He was taken at seven p.m. on Monday, received the photos Tuesday morning, the video call that afternoon, and then nothing from Mardon until a day later with that video he just sent. He was surprised by Mardon's patience, the calculated and minimal contact instead of boasting and peacocking. Len has underestimated him and now Barry was paying for it.

No witnesses, nothing but the security camera footage. Traffic cams around the city had been undergoing upgrades that day so there was no way of tracking the vehicle they suspected Mardon had been driving. Joe and Cecile were both calling in every favor as Captain of the CCPD and former District Attorney, with almost the whole precinct volunteering to help find one of their own. Dibny was hitting the streets for every snitch he knew that could have seen or heard something from Mardon. Cisco was obsessing over current city cams and satellite data for any blips of Mardon or Barry on facial recognition, traces of the Speed Force, or unusual weather patterns. Iris was in touch with every contact she had in the city, even her old ties with investigative journalists at Central City Picture News. Caitlin was pouring over the evidence from the scene for any trace of where Mardon had been before he had lured Barry into the alley.

And here he was, playing along with Mardon's game as he watched what he was supposed to and unavoidably responding how he knew Mardon was wanted him to. For Len, it was numbness he was striving for, doing his damndest to keep his emotions, anger, fear, grief, and guilt at bay in the way he'd nearly perfected years ago. And for the most part he succeeded. But it was the sight of the costume standing there in the alcove, mocking him, and suddenly, he was seeing red. Not the vibrant red of the iconic suit of Central City's hero in front of him, not the radiant red of Barry's blush that he'd kill to be able to see right now, not the peaceful aura of red he saw when that feeling of love took hold at the sight of the only person in the world who had ever made him feel that way. It was a fiery rage that burned a violent red. Maybe it was the fatigue, the ache in his head, the anger at not only Mardon but himself, the worrying about Barry – Len snapped.

He let out a loud, guttural scream, and put his fist through one of the monitors on the wall to the right of the suit alcove. The screen shattered at the point of impact, display fritzing, feeling the crack in his knuckles, satisfied as he pulled his hand out and saw that for the first time in a while it was his own blood on his hands, not Barry's.

He was about to punch the monitor above the one he'd just busted, the destruction of the first not satisfying enough, when he heard a loud shout over the blood pounding in his ears.

"Snart!"

Len dropped his arm to the side, unfazed and uncaring of the pain and blood dripping from his split knuckles. He turned and saw Caitlin Snow in the doorway connecting the medbay to the Cortex. No, not Caitlin. Her hair was iridescent white, skin a shade paler, dark blue lips, and sparkling blue-almost-white eyes. Frost.

"Look, I'm a drama queen myself but with everyone searching for Barry, I'm gonna be the one stuck cleaning this up," she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Len surveyed at the mess he'd made, the adrenaline wearing off and now feeling the sting in his hand. He flexed his fingers a few times, hissing as he saw the flecks of glass embedded in the knuckles, and cursed himself for his stupidity. He looked up as he heard the clacks of heels walking away.

"Come on," Frost called behind her as she headed back into the medbay. "Caity can deal with this one. I don't get paid enough to play babysitter or nurse."

Len followed behind, glancing over his shoulder at the suit once more, before entering the medbay where Caitlin now waited, her skin warmer, hair darker, but just as much of an icy stare as her alter ego with her arms folded over her chest.

"Sit," she nodded her head towards the white chair. Len obliged, resting his right hand on the arm of the chair as she came around to his side, rolling a small metal tray on a stand with her medical supplies.

He watched as she wordlessly inspected the wounds, lifting a pair of sterilized tweezers off the tray and began to extract any glass debris. Len refused to verbally react to the pain despite the sting, he'd done enough without having to concern her with his uncomfortableness. Her approach was clinical, cautious hands of a doctor, not the caring and tender approach he'd seen her use when tending to Barry, but it was kind all the same. He wouldn't expect the same bedside manner she reserved for Barry, one of her best friends, but he also certainly didn't expect nor thought he deserved any of her kindness at all, even bothering to tend to his self-inflicted wounds.

"Thank you, Dr. Snow," he acknowledged as she inspected the damage, holding his hand between hers, Len noticing they were cold to the touch which he found comforting yet also nerve-wracking that any moment the kindness could cease and her frostier demeanor could freeze him solid.

"You can call me Caitlin," she replied, a softness to her voice that he did not deserve but was not surprised to receive. Even though she had the power and every right to cause him pain, she was like the rest of Barry's team. They were innately good people, driven to help, not cause pain, whether it was warranted or not.

"I'm afraid not, Dr. Snow," Len shook his head in reply, meeting her questioning gaze with all the sincerity he could muster up. "I hurt you, I used you against him and I can't take that back."

"It was a long time ago, Snart," she looked away, resuming her work as she swiped his knuckles with an antiseptic wipe.

"It doesn't matter. It's a miracle that he's forgiven me for everything and honestly, I'm not sure I've done enough to earn that forgiveness," Len said, looking straight ahead, the pain in his hand as she cleaned his cuts nothing compared to the swelling pain of regret in his chest. Not for what he'd done because at the time it was what he thought was necessary. No, regret that what he thought he had to do ended up hurting people, people he'd soon come to care about. He glanced back to her as he continued.

"But what I do know is I haven't begun to earn your friendship. The least I can do is offer respect. So for now, if it's alright with you, I'd prefer to address you as Dr. Snow."

"Well the respect is appreciated," Caitlin smiled, wrapping his hand now with gauze. "I've seen how you are with him, it's clear how deeply you care about him. You keep treating my friend like that and we'll get there."

"You bunch are just unreal," Len chuckled, bringing his injured hand to his chest as he nodded his thanks once she finished. "First Iris, now you. No shovel talk, no threats, just accepting this whole Barry and I thing."

"Would you prefer a shovel talk or a threat?" She smirked as she wheeled the cart over to the sink to clean up.

"It's just a little surprising, all things considering," Len leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes, suddenly exhausted now that the adrenaline of his rage-induced violence had left him.

"Leonard?" She questioned the name, a chuckle and a nod from the man in the chair permission enough. "Look, Leonard, a lot has changed since you and Rory kidnapped me to use against the Flash. I know I've changed quite a bit since then, we all have, it stands to reason you have too."

Len snorted, lifting his head to watch as Caitlin came to stand beside him in the chair, her arms folded across her chest not so much in defiance as before but in almost a self-protection at the notion.

"Frost and I hurt the people who love us because we were angry and scared. Then there's Ralph who's gone from a disgraced cop to one of Central City's protectors. Barry was even ready to help Savitar after he tried to kill Iris," Caitlin spoke, not with judgment or remorse for her or her friend's past indiscretions, but with acceptance and understanding, something he saw in her eyes as she stared at him. "You've come into a family who believes in second and third chances, a family Barry brought together. And if he's brought you into his life, that means whether you like it or not, you're part of this family now too."

Caitlin reached a hand out then, laying it on his forearm tentatively. And Len let her, looking up as her hand squeezed his arm gently, reassuringly.

"You're not alone in this. You don't have to feel like you are," she smiled sympathetically, voice soft. "Everyone here loves him, as you do. So you belong here just as much as any of us."

"She's right," a voice interrupted from the doorway. Both Caitlin and Leonard's head snapped up at the sudden addition to the room. There Joe West stood, leaning against the doorframe, something Len cursed himself for missing. He could always sense when the room changed, but he was so distracted by Caitlin's kindness, by his rising fear for Barry.

Caitlin gave his arm another squeeze before walking away, placing a comforting hand on Joe's shoulder who responded with a sad smile, before leaving the two men alone in the medbay.

"We searched everywhere Mardon's been known to frequent or been associated with, but nothing," Joe supplied, stepping further into the room towards where Len sat. "Could have used you and your expertise on the streets with the search."

"I didn't think you'd want me there," Len responded, gaze steely as he met the other man's, his voice rising in anger, throwing it at the man. "Besides, West, what are you going to do? We got nothing. And Mardon doesn't want to be found till he's ready to kill us."

"I've got a dozen uniforms surveilling all his known locations and leaning on any of his know associates for information," Joe crossed his arms, matching the heat in Len's voice, defending his actions, defending himself. "We'll find him"

"And then what? Throw him back in Iron Heights till he can escape and try again? It's all bullshit," Len shouted.

"You think I don't know that? But I'm gonna use whatever resources I can to try to find my son!" Joe shouted back, taking a step towards Len. "I promise you this, if I get any opportunity or any lead, law and order be damned, I'll do what I have to."

"No, you won't. You're the Captain of CCPD," Len couldn't keep the disgust from his voice as he pointed out his doubt in Joe's words.

"I'm his dad first. The job means nothing if I can't keep my family safe. I'll do whatever I have to for my son."

And with those words, suddenly Len knew where got Barry got it from, the willingness to give it all up for the people he cared about. The phrase itself almost identical to what Barry had said to him at the precinct. It both alleviated and added to his anger simultaneously.

"Even if it means icing out your son because he's dating a criminal?" Len challenged, the heat still in his voice but no longer shouting. His gaze locked with the other man and Joe held it for a moment before dropping his head with a sigh, hands shifting to his jacket pockets.

"I don't trust you, Snart. Can you blame me?" Joe replied, shaking his head. "I just can't figure out how this started, why after everything between the Flash and Captain Cold, you would pursue Barry?"

Len took a deep breath, not looking at Joe but instead the injured hand he cradled in his other as if the injury that was a result of the lack of control of his emotions held the answer to what Joe was asking.

"Someone tells you there's good in you, expects more from you than what you're giving, they're just not believing in you, they're saying you're worth something. No one's dared me to be more before simply because they thought I was capable of it and not because they wanted something else from me. That got in my head, this idea of being more. And slowly, that thought just kept getting louder and louder until an opportunity came for me to step up, to be part of something bigger than myself," Len looked up and met Joe's eyes, the words spilling out of him, things he'd sworn to only ever be open about with Barry, that he was the only one who'd get to see this side of him. But Barry wasn't here, and Len needed to feel connected to a piece of him. If that meant being open and honest with the people Barry cared about, that accepting these people as a part of his life now because Barry was, then so be it. More than that, he needed to get him back and the only way that was going to happen was if they were on the same page. "I wanted to see if he was right, if I could be more, do more, than what I was used to. And then I did. And then somewhere along the way, I wanted to be more to him, to not just be worth something to the world, but to be worth something to him, the one that believed in me from the start."

Joe's face softened, an empathy Len had seen directed at him before, from Iris in her car when she acknowledged that she could see how much he cared for the other man. Len couldn't help but marvel in the fact of how open, how honest with their emotions this whole family was.

"Look Snart, you're not anywhere near the list of people I would choose for my son. But he sees something good in you, always has. And if I'm being honest, there have been enough times where he's been right and I've been wrong for me to question whose in the know here," Joe stared at him, face a mix of emotions that reflected Len's own. "I've been wrong before, where it mattered. I kept him from his father for all those years. I refuse to keep him from someone else he cares about. Not again."

"I expected more resistance from you, West," Len replied, pushing himself up and out of the chair, coming to stand in front of Joe.

"Yeah, well maybe if I hadn't been so resistant before, I could have been there to keep him from being taken," Joe closed his eyes, shaking his head. Len had seen that before, seen that exact expression of misplaced guilt in Barry. It amazed Len how much Barry had gotten from the man, how much love and support Joe had to provide for Barry to emulate him like a son did a father.

Len couldn't be mad at the man anymore for his response to the discovery of their relationship. Joe West would never hurt Barry deliberately; he was human and thus allowed to make mistakes. Len could relate to that. This was the man that raised the person he loved, the man that was partially responsible for Barry being Barry. And Len loved who Barry was, all of him.

"This isn't on you, Detective. This is my fault," Len said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're not the only one Mardon's after," Joe shook his head.

"He only took him because of what I did," Len argued, feeling that anger rise again from before, the surge that caused him to punch a hole through a tv screen. And Len realized now, it wasn't Joe or Mardon he was mad at. It was himself.

"Mardon has been after me for years for Clyde. What happened between you two might have triggered this but it was only a matter of time til he came after my family," Joe stated, reaching a hand out to brace against his shoulder. Len wanted to push it away but couldn't find the strength to.

"And he took Barry because of me. Not your daughters or Horton, but Barry," Len bit back, closing his eyes as the video from earlier replayed behind his lids. Mardon's hands, Barry's struggling. Barry had told him once he believed himself to be selfish for keeping the ones he loved close when there were so many people out there who could use them against the Flash. Len told him his love was worth the risk. Now the roles were reversed, Barry being hurt to get to him and Len couldn't help but feel like it wasn't a two-way street. Barry's life was worth a hell of a lot more than anything Len could ever give him.

"He took Barry as leverage against you, he's hurting him as revenge against me. This is not your fault, Leonard," Joe said, a conviction in his voice that Len also recognized as something Barry inherited. It was the same tone he'd used time and time again to try to convince Len that there was good in him, as if what he was saying was a fact. Hearing the tone from Joe, it made Len need to make the other man understand his own truth.

"I don't deserve him. I need you to know I know that," Len met his eyes, a sincerity and openness he'd only shared with less than a handful of people. But he needed Joe West, the father of one of those people he'd shared everything with, to trust him. "But I also won't ever stop fighting for him."

Joe nodded at him, patting the shoulder beneath his hand once before dropping his arm.

"I believe it," Joe nodded again. He opened his mouth to say something else when an alert on Joe's phone came from his jacket. Len tensed as Joe reached into his coat pocket, part of him praying it was good news but knowing in his gut it wasn't. "It's a video message. From Mardon."

---

"Mmmph!" Barry grunted angrily against the gag, twisting his wrists, tugging at the knots, trying with everything that he had to break free of the ropes. He had been struggling for a while now, his shoulder protesting and the strain taking its toll quickly, but he wasn't willing to give up, he wasn't willing to stop fighting.

"You're not getting free so you might as well save your energy," Mardon said smugly as he entered the room, seeing Barry struggling against his bindings. "You're gonna need it."

Barry lifted his head as Mardon approached the bed with a hand towel draped over his shoulder, a pitcher of water in one hand, and a small tripod in the other. Mardon just smiled at him as he placed the pitcher on the floor next to the bed. Taking the phone out of his back pocket, he deftly set up the tripod near the wall that faced the side of the bed and placed the phone on the stand.

Barry ignored him, continuing to pull on the ropes as Mardon laughed.

"You've got a problem with listening and doing as your told, don't you?" Mardon remarked, pulling the gag roughly from between Barry's lips, tossing it aside. Barry with some effort managed to spit out the other cloth wadded between his teeth.

"That would be something you, Len, and Joe all agree on then," Barry licked at his cracked lips, staring Mardon down, defiance like steel in his eyes. Mardon just laughed.

"So here's the thing. We're gonna make a little video message that's gonna tell West and Snart just how shitty they are and they're going to hear it from you. You're gonna help me put a lil script together that's gonna crush West and break Snart's heart, if he had one," Mardon smirked at him, sitting down on the edge of the bed frame by Barry's hip.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. I'm not going to help you hurt them," Barry eyed Mardon up and down, knowing there was more to what he was proposing.

"See, I just knew you were going to make things difficult so I came prepared to persuade you," Mardon bent down to pick up the pitcher of water with one hand, resting it beside Barry's head. As Mardon pulled the towel down off his shoulder, Barry's eyes widened as he realized what was coming.

"Mardon, don't do-hmmm" Barry's plea was cut off as the towel was placed over his entire face and his captor began to pour water on the towel. He felt like was drowning, his body flopped up and down as if he was going through an electric shock, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe.

Mardon lifted the towel off and Barry quickly tilted his head to the side, coughing violently. Water was dripping out of the side of his mouth, his head throbbed but Mardon barely gave him a chance to recover before he grabbed him by the hair, straightening his head.

"Like I said, we're going to make a video message. You're going to tell West how it's his fault. You're going to tell Snart that you could never love him." Mardon spoke low and even, voice conversational but Barry knew this wasn't optional. That didn't mean he was just going to play along, however.

"Go to hell," Barry spat, barely getting the words before Mardon descended on him. Barry's eyes widened in terror as Mardon held the towel over his face again and poured. The towel was drawn so tightly across his face so that the outline of his nose and mouth were clearly visible through the fabric. Mardon started pouring the jug of water slowly onto the towel, moving the stream up and down so it covered both his nose and mouth. Barry thrashed against his bonds, desperate to escape the waterboarding, but they held tight. He tried to turn his head away from the cold water but the towel was held so taught against his face it was impossible to move. The weight of the water gradually dragged the cloth past his mouth into his throat, slowly strangling him. Water filled his nose and mouth as he tried to draw in enough air to breathe.

And then the towel was pulled away again and Barry coughed and spat out water, trying to draw in deep lungfuls of air.

"You're going to make your foster father believe he failed you and that you're worse off for knowing Snart," Mardon said over Barry's desperate attempts to get his breathing under the control. Suddenly Barry realized Mardon hadn't hit record on the phone, he wasn't even taping this to send off to Joe and Len. This was torture, a sick game to just get Barry to do what he wanted.

"They would never believe me, even if I agreed," Barry replied between pants for air, water dripping into his eyes as he glared at Mardon. "Which I won't."

Mardon covered Barry's face with the wet towel again, pressing his hands down so they were on the bed on either side of his head. The wet towel clung to Barry's nose, water dripping into his mouth as he tried to breathe in the air but could only draw in water. He was convulsing; he had no control over his body as it responded to the simulated drowning. He saw stars, his head was spinning, and he teetered on the edge of consciousness.

Just when he felt like he was about to pass out the towel was torn away and he could, at last, get some precious breaths. Barry lay on the bed choking and sobbing, his whole body twitching with the after-effects. His fingers clawed helplessly at the rope binding his wrists to the metal slats above his head.

"How bout this, if you don't do what I ask, I'll just kill you now. Then I'll go and grab Snart's sister and West's daughter and play this out with them. What do you say?" Mardon sneered, expression twisted in a cruel smile. "They're more my type anyway. I won't have fake it with them stop the camera before any of the action happens like I had to with you."

"You son of a bitch, you leave them alo-mmmm!" Barry's fear of what Mardon would do to Lisa and Iris was overshadowed when Mardon moved forward once more with the towel. Barry thrashed and pulled against the bonds securing him to the bed, his head whipped desperately from side to side, but it was futile and nothing could stop the wet towel being pressed tightly against his face. The water was poured and he spluttered and coughed as it filled his nose and mouth. He had no perception of time as Mardon tortured him, at some point couldn't differentiate from when water was being poured or when it was just the soaked towel clamped over his face. All he knew was darkness and water.

Barry was yanked into wakefulness with the stinging slap of Mardon's palm connecting with the side of his face. His head rolled with the force of it. He blinked his eyes open and the pain in his split cheek registered almost immediately. He wasn't sure if he had actually passed out, but he became fully conscious with Mardon slapping his face. He coughed and water spewed from his mouth. He was still strapped to the bed, Mardon grasped his chin and turned his head to face him. His hair was dripping water, eyes red from crying.

"Please, leave Iris and Lisa alone," Barry begged as he came back to awareness, words raspy as he drew in desperate breaths, the memory of Mardon's threat before he passed out still reverberating in his pounding head. "I'll do what you want, I'll say what you want just please don't touch them."

"I knew you'd come around," Mardon winked, slapping him playfully on the cheek before grabbing the towel once more. Barry's eyes widened, tensing as he feared what was coming. But Mardon stood from the bed, throwing the towel in the pitcher and walking away.

When it was over Barry slumped against the wood slats of the bed, coughing and spitting water, trying to control his breathing. He didn't know what was in store for him next, what he'd be forced to say to hurt Joe and Len, but he'd endure whatever was necessary if it kept Iris and Len's sister safe. He could take it. He had to.

---

The Cortex was dead silent, the air heavy with anxiety, and quiet enough you could every hitched breath of anticipation. Joe had just received a video message from an anonymous number and knew it had to be from Mardon. Cisco had tried to trace the message, tried to trace every call that either Joe or Len had received but they'd all been sent through a wi-fi network that had been rerouting to a different IP address every thirty seconds and Cisco couldn't pinpoint the IP address source.

"He's not smart enough. He probably got help from Axel," Len had supplied, knowing the strengths of the other Rogues in Central City. It was important to know the pros and cons of every competitor and every potential ally and Len liked to be prepared. What little good that did keeping Mardon away from Barry.

From Joe's phone, Cisco routed the video to the display monitors rather than watching huddled around Joe's phone. Len wasn't keen on the idea, not with practically Barry's whole team watching, not after the video he received that he still hadn't shared. But a bigger screen meant more eyes surveying for clues to finding where Mardon was holding Barry captive. So Len and Caitlin stood behind where Joe and Cisco sat at the desk, just the four of them holding their breaths as Cisco hit play. The video was black for a few moments before springing to life.

Barry was seated in a chair once more, his hands bound in front resting in his lap, rope wrapped around his ankles. He wasn't tied to the chair this time; his left shoulder slumped lower than it should, indicating a dislocation or separation. There was a large, deep gash on the right side of his forehead, brushing along his split left cheek and jaw and blood trickled down his chin from a large crack in the corner of his bottom lip. His hair looked wet, his skin so pale, the dirt and bruising on his face washing out his color completely with dark bags under eyes filled with pain.

"Joe, Len," Barry started and they could already see the tears begin to well in his eyes. "By the time you get this, it's been nearly three full days since I went missing. Three days without food, without water. Three days and you still h-haven't found me. These will probably be the last things I'll get to say to you."

It was obvious Barry was reciting a prepared speech. He sounded so tired, pausing as he gathered himself as best as he could.

"For Captain of the CCPD, you would think you'd be able to find your own son, Joe. But then again, I'm not really your..your kid. And if you loved me like your own, you'd have found me...by now." Tears spilled over his eyes as he spoke and Joe knew it was crushing Barry to say things he didn't mean, things meant to hurt him that Joe would never believe came from his heart. "But you haven't. Because you don't care enough, I've been here for three days, starved and beaten. And it's because of you I'm here to begin with. The truth is, I would have been better off if you'd never taken me in. You sent my...my dad to prison and were wrong about him. I've been paying for your mistakes ever since."

Barry bit the corner of his bottom lip, eyes hidden behind rolling tears as they tracked through the dirt and blood on his face. Joe couldn't stop his own tears watching Barry in pain, being used as a pawn in Mardon's sick game, wishing he could reach out to him and provide just a little comfort. Barry was his family, his love, his heart, and for Mardon to use that and twist it, Joe could only hope Barry wouldn't feel guilty, would know Joe was proud of him for doing what he needed to hold on till they could get to him.

"Len," Barry closed his eyes, breathing through a sob that was fighting to force its way out. But in all his strength and conviction, Barry took a deep breath and looked at the camera, a look that said he had to get through this. Whatever Mardon was threatening with him or had done to him, had broken something in the young man.

"Being with you is the biggest mistake I could have made. I should have known I wouldn't be safe with you, that you would bring me nothing but p-pain."

Barry continued with the rest of the speech, his crumbling voice barely managing to relay his kidnapper's words.

"There's no future with you. I could never build a life with you here, could never build a home with you here. I could never really lo-love you. You're a criminal, no better than your-"

Barry inhaled sharply before he could finish the sentence, eyes moving to stare past the camera, disbelief in his eyes quickly turning to fear before looking back to them on the screen.

"You're no better than your fa-" Suddenly, the fear in his eyes turned to defiance as he cried out. "No. No, Len, I love you. Joe, I'm sorry. Don't come for-"

His words came spilling out rapidly as they heard a scuffle behind the camera before Mardon crossed in front of the screen and with a closed fist, backhanded Barry across the side of his face, his body being thrown off the chair to the floor.

"Barr!" Joe shouted, knowing it was a recording, that neither Mardon nor Barry could hear him but unable to stop it, slamming his fist onto the desk and standing up, the chair going flying behind him.

"You just don't listen, do you?" Mardon shouted down at Barry who lay on his side on the floor, landing a kick to his ribs causing Barry to cry out. "You want them to hear you?"

Mardon scowled at the camera then, rage mixing with amusement.

"How badly do you want to hear his voice? Do you want to hear him badly enough that you would listen to him scream?"

They watched as Barry tried to move away but his bound limbs were not cooperating. When Mardon lifted his foot up from the ground, they watched as Barry tried to brace himself for the impact to his ribs again, curling his body into itself. It was only at the last second that they all realized, including Barry on the footage, what Mardon was aiming for as his foot came down to his leg, the heel of his boot smashing into the wounded knee and Barry couldn't stop the animalistic scream that ripped itself from his throat.

Mardon took a moment to glower at his crying captive before turning to face the camera. He said nothing, just smirked cruelly before reaching forward and the screen went dark.

Joe scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the own tears he had shed, willing himself to try to calm down. The room was silent as they stared at the blank screen, no one sure what to say, what they could say, after what they'd just watched. Caitlin had a hand on Joe's arm, tears rolling down her own cheeks as Cisco hid his face in his hands. It would be Len who would break the silence.

"Why wouldn't he just say it?" Len asked, voice quiet, stunned, staring at the screen that was still blank. He knew what the rest of Barry's sentence was, that he was just like his father. It was a brutal blow, something Len feared of ever becoming. But Len knew Barry didn't mean it. What he couldn't understand is why Barry wouldn't just say it to save himself more pain.

"He didn't want to hurt you," Caitlin supplied, her voice just as quiet, soft in her sympathy for him and words thick through her own tears at watching her friend suffer through what they just witnessed.

"He knew we would know he didn't mean any of it," Joe sighed, turning to face Len who still stared blankly at the screen with his brow furrowed. "He knows that I'd move heaven and earth for him, that I love him as a son. Just like he knows that you know he loves you, wants to build a life with you. But he's Barry. He acts with his heart and he wouldn't risk his last words being something he knew would haunt you."

Len looked up at him suddenly, eyes widening.

"He said he could never build a life 'here', build a home 'here'," Len muttered, leaning over where Cisco sat to restart the footage.

"Snart, he didn't mean it, man," Cisco tried to placate the man but Snart wasn't hearing him. He watched the screen intently, looking past Barry's heartbroken expression to pause at a moment where Barry bowed his head to fight through a sob. With a few taps of the keys, Len was able to zoom into a spot past Barry's shoulder to the corner of what looked like faded and peeling brocade wallpaper. Wallpaper he'd seen before.

"Son of a bitch!" Len pushed away from the desk, pulling his cold gun from his holster. "I know where he is. Give me that damn breach thing."

Caitlin ran to the nearby shelving unit where the inter-dimensional extrapolator was, quickly tossing it to Leonard who barely hesitated a moment before punching in the coordinates. A breach opened up in front of them and Len didn't wait to see if anyone would follow him before jumping through.

He landed inside the main foyer of the house, heard Joe call out behind him before hearing the breach close. With both of their guns raised, Joe and Len made their way through the house, searching the empty rooms on the first floor before heading upstairs.

Sweeping their weapons through each open door, searching for Mardon, Barry, any inkling that anyone was here, their search stopped as they entered the room with the wallpaper from the video, where a chair stood by a table, another chair broken and collapsed on the floor, streaks of blood staining the old wood floors.

On the table was a piece of paper, the words they'd heard Barry say scrawled across it like a script. But next to it was a Polaroid photo of Barry tied up, blindfolded and gagged inside the open trunk of a car. The words scrawled on the bottom of the picture 'too late' mocking them.

"Fuck!" Len kicked at the table, clenching his eyes shut as he brought the cold gun up to his forehead, trying to compose himself from icing the entire room just because he could.

"They're gone. He must have sent the video after they left," Joe holstered his gun, trying to keep the defeat from consuming him as he searched around the now empty room that had housed Barry for days. "Where are we Snart?"

"He must have followed me. I can usually spot a tail but I've been distracted. Damnit!" Len shouted, ignoring Joe, grabbing the photo of Barry and pocketing it. He would be damned if he left it behind, left him behind.

"Snart, where are we?" Joe asked again, voice firm. Len finally turned to him, his expression a mix of anger and grief that created stark lines on his face.

"It was going to be a surprise for Barry."

---

Barry had no idea how long he'd spent in this new location. It could have been hours, could have been days between when he first woke up here and now.

After being knocked out during Mardon's sick video message, the next thing Barry knew was opening his eyes where he was now. His surroundings had slowly come into focus, head pounding, body aching and the fact that his senses were slow to reengage was a clear sign of a concussion. Wherever this new prison was, it was cold and hard to see, the air musty, His eyes were slow to adjust to the dim lighting. Of what he could see, the room was basement-like, dirt floor, some tall rusted metal shelving the corner that was sparsely stocked with rolls of duct tape, coils of rope, and old tools ranging from hammers to pliers that made Barry shudder at the idea of the damage they could do in Mardon's hands. Looking up, he saw his wrists bound together, suspended above him, the rope lead pulled and tied to an old wood ceiling beam. He sat with legs twisted to the side, rope still holding them together at his ankles. His only bit of relief that at least he wasn't gagged.

Mardon hadn't come to see him since they relocated and Barry was torn between the comfort of being left alone without more torture and the suffocating silence of being trapped somewhere tied up with no one knowing where to find him.

He kept fading in and out, alternating between trying to get free and giving in to his exhaustion as he leaned his forehead against the raised right arm by his head. He would twist his wrists, tug at the knots, trying with everything that he had to break free of the ropes, despite the pain and near numbness in his suspended limbs. He hadn't stopped struggling despite his injuries since he was taken. It was harder now than it was before and had been taking its toll quickly, but he wasn't willing to give up. He wouldn't give up until there was no fight left in him. He was exhausted from the struggle, thirsty, hungry, and sore. His lips were aching at the corners, where the gag had been pulled at them for days, his wrists were raw and chafed from the tight ropes, his legs nearly numb. Still, he kept up his struggle.

His solitude was interrupted eventually when Barry heard footsteps approaching from behind the old door. He shivered, anticipating the anxiety of what was in store for him next but quickly pushed it down, locking his eyes with a steely stare as the door swung open, Mardon entering the room.

"Ah, Allen," he grinned mockingly, "miss me?"

Barry swallowed, doing his best to keep his emotions out of his expression, his pain, his fear, just how bone-tired he was.

"Where are we?" He asked, voice raspy and quiet, his throat dry and raw. Mardon didn't bother to close the door behind him and since he wasn't gagged, it led him to believe they were somewhere isolated from anyone who could hear them, anyone who could help him.

"Where this all began," Mardon responded, sounding way too nonchalant for someone who had kidnapped and tortured a person for days. "Which is kind of funny considering where we were before was more about your future."

"What do you mean?" Barry questioned, confusion evident as Mardon squatted down in front of him to meet Barry's eye level.

"You mean you didn't recognize that house? Oh, that's right, you never saw it in person," Mardon's laugh was hard and cold, the grin on his face infuriating Barry. "That house was for sale and had a bid on it by none other than Leonard Snart. I followed him there about a week ago, watched him leave with a smile on his face. I guess it was supposed to be a surprise for you. Although with what's happened there these past few days, I don't think those were quite the memories Snart thought you'd be making there."

"Bastard," Barry bit out through clenched teeth, lunging at Mardon, pulling at the ropes on his wrists, wishing he could get any leverage. But his body was sluggish, he still couldn't feel his connection to the speed force which meant Mardon had brought the meta dampener with them to the new location. Or maybe after days of no food, no water, and bleeding from his knee, his body was just too weak to heal itself.

Mardon just shrugged, unfazed by Barry's insult but clearly amused by his struggling as he stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two bandanas and Barry groaned, knowing what was coming.

"Don't worry, kid, it's almost over. It's been twenty-four hours since I sent them that video of you. A full day with no word from me about your condition," Mardon said, towering over where Barry half-sat on the floor looking up at his captor. "They're desperate enough now that one call letting them know where we are and they'll come running."

As Mardon crouched down in front of him again, reaching for his face, Barry was struck with a sudden realization.

Barry jerked his head away, glaring up at Mardon, "We're at the farm. The one Joe found you and your brother the night the particle accelerator blew."

"Also where Clyde was killed. Seemed like a fitting place to get my revenge," Mardon shrugged again, that grin on his face and Barry was struck with rage.

"You want your revenge, just kill me. Leave Joe and Len alone," Barry glared, defiance burning in his eyes, masking the fear he was feeling. When Mardon chuckled, Barry just continued. "I'm the reason Clyde is dead. I was there that night. Joe shot your brother because he was going to shoot me. I'm the reason he's dead. And I'm the reason the Rogues are disbanded, I influenced Len to go straight. You want someone to blame for everything, blame me!"

Barry was all but shouting, Mardon's face turning from amusement to anger as he listened to Barry shoulder the blame. Barry knew his words weren't going to change Mardon's plans but he had to try anything to keep Joe and Len safe. He had no success in trying to escape before, he wouldn't be able to now in the condition he was in, but what he could do was try to deflect his captor's anger. He'd try whatever he had to if it meant keeping the people he loved safe.

"You stupid bastard, they're gonna either haul your ass back to Iron Heights or ice you so you might as well just kill me now-"

His words came to a rushing halt when a fist crashed into his temple. The force of the punch snapped his head to the side, his vision flickering with the hit for a second. Barry gasped, blinking rapidly, his ears rushing and head pounding as his vision fell back into view.

He pulled his head up, slowly, locking eyes with Mardon but not saying anything.
The next punch was to the midsection. Barry coughed as the air was forced out of him, doubling over as much as he could restrained the way he was. He hadn't a chance to catch his breath before a second punch in the same spot connected with his abdomen, feeling the ribs crack under the blow, unable to fight back the cry that escaped as pain radiated through his torso.

A fist to his face caught his nose and Barry could taste the blood. He coughed again, spitting out the fresh blood that trickled down from his nose into his mouth. A second punch to the other side of his face had his vision doubling to the point where he had to squeeze his eyes shut, breathing through the wave of nausea and pain.

His body jerked against the restraints as his body reflexively moved with the punches, pulling against the restraints, cutting into his wrists. Before Barry could even think about begging Mardon to stop, another fist caught him in the abdomen once more, the pain blinding, blood rushing in his ears.

Mardon suddenly yanked Barry's head back by his hair and Barry couldn't help but cry out, breathing heavy and stuttered, eyes trying to stay open as Mardon laughed above him.

"Nice try, kid," Mardon whispered, tugging on Barry's hair hard again and when Barry opened his mouth to cry out in pain, Mardon shoved a wadded up bandana in his mouth. It filled his cheeks and caused Barry to retch slightly. Quickly Mardon let go of his hair and with both hands forced a rolled-up bandana between his teeth, wrapping the cloth around his head and pulled the ends into an excruciatingly tight knot.

Barry swore at him, muffled words barely making an impact behind the gag and Mardon pat him on the cheek. His eyes were menacing as he gripped Barry's chin between his thumb and fingers, squeezing as he spoke low, inches from his face.

"I'm gonna call your boyfriend now. He's gonna come try to save you, bring your dad with him. I'm gonna kill you while they watch, then I'm gonna kill them. The only thing your confession did, other than being a stupid attempt at trying to spare them, was change the fact that now instead of you just being collateral damage, I'm going to enjoy killing you."

---

Twenty-four hours after they received the video found Len in pretty much the same place he'd been since Barry had been taken. Feeling useless, sitting in the Cortex, searching for answers.

He had hit the streets earlier with his cold gun strapped to his leg, clad in his parka and goggles, shaking down every contact he had, every ally he knew Mardon had worked with and no one knew anything. Mardon hadn't included anyone in this job so there were no loose ends. After getting a little too violent with a former member of the Mardon brothers' crew, he was strongly encouraged by Team Flash to stay at the Labs in case Mardon reached out again.

So here he was scouring the traffic cams and satellite imagery for any trace of Mardon, the Shelby Mustang, or Barry. After they found the house empty, Joe and the CCPD were back to scouting locations from a list of potential previous hideouts they had originally searched when Barry had first been taken. The first was the farm where Clyde was killed, the second an old warehouse located just outside of town that used to be an old safe house, and the third an apartment leased under the name of one of his aliases. The farm was nearly an hour's drive outside of the city and seemed unlikely based on Mardon transporting Barry from the house, and the apartment building certainly didn't provide much privacy for torturing someone, leaving the warehouse the most likely based on Mardon's m.o. But all the locations had been checked, a police team dispatched to each the warehouse, the farm, and the apartment, and had turned up nothing. He had little confidence in the CCPD, unable to catch Len in his prime until the Flash came along. Even though he trusted West now, Len just knew they were missing something, they may arrest criminals but they didn't think like them.

"You're starting to do that thing Allen does," Ralph said from behind him as he entered the Cortex. Len had heard him coming but didn't spare him a glance as he just clicked through the cameras. "Barry does this thing where he thinks so loudly about something being his fault that you can practically hear it echoing in these large halls. Super annoying."

Len rolled his eyes and continued to ignore Dibny as he came around the other side of the console from where he sat, leaning against the front.

"Mostly 'cause there's usually nothing about it that's his fault. Sometimes things just happen, and sometimes they involve the people we care about."

Len could feel Ralph's eyes on him as he spoke even though Len didn't look away from the screen he was staring at. He knew what he was doing; it was what every member of Team Flash had been doing in their own time after finding out about their relationship. Len hadn't expected to be so accepted into the fold, and he certainly hadn't expected them to reach out to him with kindness. But those were do-gooders for you. It made him uncomfortable to be treated so kindly.

"Shouldn't you be hitting the street, Long Man?" Len mocked, still not looking up.

"Elongated Man. But you know that," Ralph corrected, recognizing the snark as a self-defense mechanism because he was guilty of it himself at times. He paused briefly before continuing. "Look, Snart-"

"Lemme guess," Len snapped, interrupting, finally glancing up at the man who just continued to lean across the desk, not the least bit phased by Len's abruptness. "It's not my fault. Everyone is looking for him. There's good in me, more bullshit like that. The fact of the matter is, Dibny, I'm not a good man. And because Barry thought I was, he's now paying for it."

To his credit, Ralph didn't flinch during Len's tirade, just continued to stare at him from across the console. When Len returned to staring at the screen, Ralph let him settle for a moment before continuing.

"What I was going to say is I know what it's like to be saved by Barry Allen, to not want to disappoint him," Ralph sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets, a resignation in his voice that felt familiar enough to Len that he finally made eye contact with the other man.

"Barry's the one that caught me in the lie that got me fired from the CCPD. And despite that, he's the one that gave me the chance to redeem myself. He saw a hero when everyone saw an obnoxious dick. I went from hating his guts to loving him like a little brother," as Ralph spoke his voice became tight and eyes filled with that mix of grief, determination, rage and hope, something that Len felt and saw reflected back to him in each member of Barry's team, Barry's family. "He saved me from myself, I think he did the same for you. He changes everything. I don't know what it is about him, but just being a part of his life makes you a better person. And you like who you become. And then you never want to let him down, you want to make him proud, prove him right, and do everything you can to be there for him like he was for you."

Len wanted to tell him to shut up, wanted to ice him for assuming he understood what Len was feeling. But the man did understand because Ralph had lived it himself. He'd been able to discover the best version of himself with the friendship, the love, the faith in him, given freely by Barry Allen, just like Len had. It wasn't that Barry had necessarily changed either of them, but he changed the circumstances around them by giving them a hand to grab on to, a soft place to land, and a little bit of faith in that light inside them that few people had seen before. These weren't just empty sentiments of reassurance, Ralph knew as well as Len did how powerful Barry's love was, whether it was familial or romantic, Barry didn't spare them all an ounce of it and they were better people for it.

"What I'm saying is, Barry wouldn't blame you for what's happening to him. If anything, he'd somehow twist it to make it his fault. Just don't get so wrapped up in what's being done to him that you lose what he's done to you, for you," Ralph rocked back and forth on his heels. Barry had said Ralph was a good Detective, that he saw the world in a way Barry could rely on when he'd exhausted all his options. Len could see why. The man was surprisingly enlightened for a tall dope of a guy.

But before Len could thank him or tell him he was right or even get mad at him for the unsolicited conversation, his phone erupted loudly, vibrating violently on the desktop as the screen lit up from a blocked number.

"Mardon," Len picked up quickly, shooting to his feet so fast the chair knocked over, not a shadow of doubt on who would be on the other end.

"Here's the deal, Snart," Mardon responded, the amusement in his voice that Len had become accustomed to was gone. His voice was low, cold, sinister even as he cut straight to the point. "Your boy isn't doing so hot so I gotta fast forward this game so I can kill him before he dies on me and ruins all my fun. The cops were close but missed our hiding spot. We're where this all began. You and West have one hour to find us or I'll just kill him and hunt you both down."

And just as abruptly as the phone call began, it ended.

"Snart?" Ralph asked, fear in his eyes.

"He's holding him at the farm where Joe shot Clyde Mardon," Len announced, pocketing the phone, pulling the cold gun from his holster.

"The CCPD checked there," Ralph shook his head.

"Well they missed something," Len searched for the extrapolator in the mess of evidence and papers the Cortex had become in their desperate search for Barry.

"Joe's at Iron Heights interviewing an old cellmate of Mardon's for information. That's at least a two hour trip from there to the farm," Ralph ran a hand through his slicked hair, frowning when he saw that Len found the extrapolator. "Wait, we can go get Joe first with that. Or at least let me go with you for backup."

"I'm not wasting any time to get to Barry. And Mardon's probably still using the meta dampener," Len dismissed as he put in the coordinates for the farm.

"Yeah, but I was a cop before I was a meta. I can help you," Ralph went to follow as Len pointed the device out to open the breach.

"No, Dibny, you were right. Barry did save me from myself and I'd do anything to keep from disappointing him," Len turned to face him. "Mardon won't kill him till he has both me and West too. I go, try to get Barry out. Worst case scenario I get caught and it buys Joe some time to get there with the calvary. You get caught with me, he won't hesitate to kill you. I won't let him take away somebody Barry cares about."

Ralph opened his mouth to protest but was cut off as Snart pointed his gun at him and iced his feet to the floor.

"Damnit, Snart!" Ralph swore, pulling at his feet but unable to free them.

"Call Joe, fill him in and have him meet me there so we can bring Barry home." And with that Len opened the breach and jumped through to the other side.

He arrived on the edge of the property, the cold wind of the crisp evening fall air blowing across the open space the only sound to be heard. The dark night provided the perfect cover for Len to make his way around the farm undetected. There was no way Mardon would have expected him to get here so fast. No lights were on in the farmhouse or barn but Len wasn't expecting Mardon to be that dumb.

He hadn't put Barry on the phone to taunt him like he'd done before so there was a chance to find the young man alone. But where, that was the issue. The cops had searched every inch of the farmhouse, the barn, the silo, all of it but Len just knew they were missing something. He'd laid low in a farm similar to this once before in Keystone and knew there were sheds and storm cellars scattered across the property for various equipment or storage through the seasons, it was just about finding the right one.

As he scanned the horizon, to his left about twenty yards he caught sight of tall grass blowing to the side revealing a set of cellar doors set into the ground at a slight angle on a hill. It was far removed from the main property, probably previously camouflaged by brush and overgrowth that the wind had only just revealed. Either Len got lucky or it was a trap, but he didn't care. Barry was there, he felt it.

With a sudden surge of energy, Len ran across the field, skidding to a stop at the doors and yanked them open. Darkness greeted him and Len descended the old wooden stairs with as much cautiousness as he could as his eyes attempted to adjust to the black, nothing but the faint blue light of the barrel of his cold gun to light the way as he held it ready.

Once he cleared the steps he made his way deeper into the cellar, feet making quiet and deliberate steps across the dirt floor. An old farm like this, it had to be a root cellar he was in, designed to preserve food during difficult seasons like freezing in the cold winter or spoiling in the summer heat. It was at least 10 feet deep into the ground, walls built of stud and board. On the wall to his right he saw what resembled a security system panel box, definitely a new addition to the cellar. A faint green light like a halo surrounded it and Len knew that was the meta dampener Mardon was using. He thought about disabling it for Barry to be able to use his powers but didn't want to run the risk of Mardon using his. A few feet to the left of the panel, he saw a heavy wood door leading into another part of the cellar, a small beam of light barely creeping beneath the cracks in the wood and the gap at the floor.

With an ear pressed against the door, Len listened for any sign of a threat on the other side but nothing was heard. With a gentle hand he pushed slightly on the door and heard the faint beginnings of a creak. No sneaking in with this one, this required a more forceful entry. Taking a step back, he readied his weapon and with a violent kick, forced the door to fly open. He swept the room directly ahead of him with his cold gun, searching for any threat but when his eyes landed on Barry's frame in the center of the room, Len's heart jumped into his throat, threatening to suffocate him.

Barry hung from his wrists tied together, raised above him with the rope stretched taut and tied off to a beam in the ceiling. He sat on the dirt floor with his legs to the side, bound at the ankles. His head hung, chin to chest. Len crossed the room in three strides as he stepped up to the suspended form, falling to his knees and dropping the cold gun beside him.

Len's hands shook as he brought them to Barry's neck, hesitating only briefly as if he was afraid of what he'd find before searching fingers were rewarded with a pulse beneath the jawline. Len nearly choked on a sob of relief. This close he noticed the slightest rise and fall of his chest but his breathing came rapidly. He moved his hands slowly and gently cradled Barry's face with a delicate touch, tilting Barry's head back to face his own. His lips were split around the gag pulled cruelly between his teeth, dried blood crusted at the corners of his mouth and beneath his nose. There was a trail of blood down his face and throat that started at the hairline above his right temple where a large gash was surrounded by a dark bruise.

His fingertips accidentally brushed against a dark blossoming bruise on his split left cheek, causing the speedster to stir into awareness.

"Scarlet," Len whispered as he examined his lover's face. He looked so much worse than the video from a day ago. Barry's left eye was swollen and dark, the bruise spread out and covered almost his entire left side from his eye and across his cheek.

As Len moved one of his hands behind Barry's head to untie the gag cleaving his mouth tightly, Barry jerked suddenly, eyes wild and unfocused.

"Hey, hey, Scarlet," Len said, cursing at the shakiness in his voice but hoping it was at least soothing the frightened man. His hand rested against the back of Barry's head, warm fingers spread across the base of his skull, his other lightly stroked his cheek with a gentle thumb. "It's me, Barry. It's Len. I'm here."

Barry's eyes focused on him then, a small sound escaping the gag as tears sprang to his eyes. Once Barry stilled, Len moved both hands to reach behind his head and Barry felt the knot in the bandana tied through his jaw loosen. The thick roll of cloth fell away and Len let it drop to the floor. He slid a hand to cup the unbruised side of Barry's face while the other hand gently pulled the wad of cloth stuffed inside his mouth, letting it too drop as he moved to rest that hand gently against Barry's neck. Despite the relief at the ease in his jaw, Barry let out a pained sound.

"What are you doing here?" He sobbed as Len cradled his face between his hands tenderly. "You have to get out of here, he'll kill you."

"I'm not going anywhere without you, Scarlet," Len whispered, his voice firm even though he could feel his whole body shaking.

"Len, you have to leave," Barry cried, relief at having been found completely overshadowed by his fear for Len's safety. "You have to leave. Please, just go."

"Why are always asking me to leave you behind?" Len smiled through his own tears now. He knew Barry wanted to be saved, was crying in pain and relief, but like the bank, like the museum, even like the fight at the apartment, Barry was trying to save Len, willing him to not sacrifice himself for him, begging him to leave and to go somewhere safe, somewhere he couldn't get hurt. What Barry failed to realize time and time again was that he was worth every risk.

Barry sobbed again but leaned forward and Len couldn't stop himself from pressing his lips against his in a desperate yet gentle kiss. He could feel Barry kiss him back but heard the hitch in his breath.

Len reluctantly pulled away, petting Barry's head tenderly, a delicate kiss to his dirty brow before pulling away completely. Grabbing a small knife he had hidden in an ankle holster in his boot, he reached up and began sawing at the rope suspending Barry's bound wrists.

"Len, please. Just go," Barry continued to beg, although his words were mumbled and soft. Len didn't try to argue, concentrating on getting Barry down. As soon as the knife cut all the way through the rope lead, Len caught Barry's bound wrists as they fell, the movement eliciting a strangled cry from the younger man. Len lowered them down gently and went to go cut the ties binding them together but dropped them and the knife when Barry began to fall forward. Len quickly caught him, placing his hands against Barry's shoulders to keep him upright.

Barry glanced down before blinking up at Len, whispering weakly, "You're hurt." Len lifted a brow in confusion before realizing Barry had seen the bandages wrapped around his fist from when he had assaulted the monitors at S.T.A.R. Labs.

"Yeah well, so are you," Len sighed, baffled that the man who was clearly ready to black out was pointing out the minor injury. Barry started to nod but his head fell forward again. Len quickly shifted his hands up to grip the sides of his face between them, holding Barry's head up.

"Hey, hey, stay with me, baby," Len begged, gently pushing Barry's head back up. Barry's eyes started to flutter closed. "No, Scarlet. Keep your eyes open. Look at me."

He could see Barry trying, losing the battle he was fighting to stay conscious. Barry's eyes barely cracked open.

"Barry," Len begged softly, hands gently stroking the flush cheeks. "Come on kid, stay with me."

"You heard him, Barry," a voice from behind him said, followed by the sound of the cocking of a gun. "You gotta stay with us. Our fun's not over yet."

Still holding onto Barry, Len quickly glanced down, his cold gun to his right, the knife to his left, both within reach but in clear sight of the person behind him. He was quick, but not Flash quick, not quick enough to reach for either of them before Mardon could fire off a shot.

"Uh-uh, don't even think about it. Not unless you want a bullet in your head. Or your little boyfriend's," Mardon chided. Len gritted his teeth as Mardon moved closer until he felt the muzzle of the gun resting against the back of his head. From behind him, Mardon kicked the cold gun further away before doing the same with the knife, leaving Len weaponless.

"I'm sorry," Barry sobbed quietly, and Len just shook his head, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. Mardon circled around them till he was behind Barry, standing over them, grinning at Len as he glared up at him.

"I'm gonna kill you," Len growled through clenched teeth.

"No, you won't. You don't have the stones anymore," Mardon replied, before motioning with his gun to the bandanas on the floor. "Now, gag your boyfriend."

"No," Len didn't blink, defiant. Mardon pushed the gun against Barry's temple and Barry cringed, eyes staring, pleading with Len.

"Len, please," Barry sniffed and Len knew Barry wasn't begging on his own behalf, he was pleading with him to cooperate so Mardon wouldn't hurt Len. He sighed and picked up the abandoned bandana from the floor, looking at the cloth in his hands then back up at Barry who just nodded.

Len leaned forward, sliding one hand in between Barry's bound ones, squeezing as he pressed a quick kiss to Barry's lips.

"I love you," Len said.

"I know," Barry smiled through the pain, through the tears, trying to reassure Len. He parted his lips as Len gently brought the balled up cloth to his mouth. Barry couldn't help the faint moan as his jaws distended around the fabric as Len reluctantly prodded it behind his teeth. Len then grabbed the other bandana and went to cover Barry's mouth when Mardon interrupted.

"Between the teeth. Nice. And. Tight," he ordered as he tapped the barrel of the gun against Barry's head with each word. Len glared up at him before focusing apologetic eyes on Barry, taking the folded bandana and pressing the middle between Barry's teeth, wrapping the ends around his head to pull them into a tight knot at the base of Barry's skull. When he finished, he slowly brought his hands from behind Barry's head, long fingers brushing lightly over his cheek and across lips, nearly circumventing the cloth and trying to provide just a little bit of comfort to Barry. Barry closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, his whimper stifled by the gag.

"Touching. Now stand up and back up," Mardon ordered, shifting to point the gun at Len now, following his movements as Len got to his feet, taking two steps back from Barry who was barely holding himself upright with his bound hands braced against the floor.

As Mardon circled around Barry, it was almost in slow motion as Barry threw his body to the left, knocking Mardon's momentum and causing the man to stumble. Len took the opportunity and lunged suddenly, grabbing for the gun but not before Mardon kicked out, his foot landing against Barry's ribs. Barry's face screwed up in an agonized grimace, fighting his hardest not to pass out as he bit down on the gag.

Mardon stumbled backward, tripping over Barry who was now curled up in pain on the floor but somehow kept his grip on the gun. Mardon brought it up and swung the butt end towards Len's head but Len ducked and reached for the gun again. Mardon dodged and Len fell forward, Mardon kicked out Len's legs from beneath him, Len stumbling, colliding with the wall. He heard Barry's muffled shout and Len turned just in time to see Mardon inches away from his own face and swing the gun at his head before everything went black.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been out for after the blow but when he could feel himself coming to, Len rested where he was silently, listening to the room, getting his bearings on his current situation, trying to gauge what was going on so he could prepare for what was to come.

The first thing he became aware of was that his head was pounding. Past that, he could feel his body pressed back against a metal, hands bound in front of him by duct tape, more tape wrapped around his chest and arms, restraining him to something. And judging by the compression he felt against his lips, he was gagged with tape as well. The smell told him he was in the same cellar he'd found Barry in, so it must be the metal rack in the corner he was stuck to. What he heard though is what told him it was time to open his eyes, the sound of Mardon snickering and Barry moaning in pain.

Blinking away his blurry vision, Len groaned as to draw Mardon's attention away from his lover.

"Look, Allen, he's decided to join us," he heard Mardon laugh and Len looked up to find the voice, eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

Mardon was standing just a few feet away with Barry behind him against the far wall. Barry's arms were spread wide, nearly straight out to the side suspended from the ceiling by thick rope around the wrists, his sneaker-clad feet that barely touched the dirt floor tied together by more rope at the ankles.

The blood-splattered remains of the gray T-shirt he'd been wearing for days now hung in tattered strips from his body, the blue plaid shirt slashed at the arms and chest area. Dozens of shallow cuts and slices littered his torso, all of them oozing through the remnants of the fabric, all of them appearing only deep enough to be painful, that would have healed in minutes if not for his powers being dampened. His face battered, gagged tightly enough that it split the sides of his mouth, certainly tighter than Len had tied it, his eyes closed as his head hung forward limply, chin resting on the bruised chest.

But even more disturbing, Barry was pinned to the wall, a knife piercing through the center of each of his hands. It was like a butterfly pinned on display or a twisted play on an iconic image, the sacrifice of a man just trying to bring light to a world that didn't deserve him. Len never considered himself to be even remotely a spiritual man, but seeing the man he loved like this, he felt sick to his stomach and couldn't help the prayer that sprung to his mind.

"You haven't been out long, but Barry and I had a little fun while we waited. Right, Allen?" Mardon said as he twirled a knife in his fingers. Len watched as Mardon slid the blade across the top of Barry's ribcage on his left slide, slicing through what was left of the fabric of his shirt, blood oozing quickly. He watched Barry take deep breaths through his nose, trying his best not to show his pain, eyes clenched tightly. Len was both proud and horrified by Barry's persistent stubbornness, even after all he'd already been through. He couldn't imagine the kind of pain Barry was in with those blades in his hands, being used as a carving board, not to mention the wounded knee and the beating he'd obviously endured. But despite the fact that Barry was a brave hero, he was still only human, and his resolve lasted for two more small cuts below the first one across his ribcage, breathing through with only a slight groan escaping. And when Mardon reached up and slid the knife across Barry's left bicep through the plaid shirt, Barry couldn't stop the scream that came forward around the stuffing in his mouth.

"There it is. That's what I was looking for," Mardon smiled cruelly at Barry, addressing Len even though he grabbed Barry tightly by the chin, staring into his pain-filled green eyes. "Ya know, Snart, I've been telling him for days now things would go a lot easier for him if he'd just cooperate. You got a real hard-headed boyfriend."

He let go of Barry then, his head falling to his chest as Mardon stepped back, wiping the knife on the thigh of Barry's already stained pant leg before placing it in his waistband.

"What do you think of my display, Snart?" Mardon turned to Len, crouching down till he was eye level with his newest captive. "I figured the classic imagery of sacrifice was appropriate, young kid suffering for the sins of the father and all that. West will appreciate the display when he finally arrives. I had to make my own appropriate additions, of course, X marks the spot and all."

It was then Len noticed two very large gashes on Barry's chest, thicker than the other cuts, crisscrossed like x's and from the way they dripped blood, fresh and deep, much deeper than the others. If not for the tape pressed over Len's lips, he'd tell Mardon what a sick fuck he was. Well, honestly he'd probably snark about how he was mixing up his bible verses first just to be an ass and then he would tell him off.

"Ya see, Clyde was killed by two gunshot wounds," Mardon said, standing up to pace the short distance between where Len was bound and Barry was suspended. "One about here," he pointed with the knife to the 'X' at Barry's left side of his chest right above his heart before moving to point at the middle of his chest to the right below his heart, "and one here. Both by West's gun. All though I recently found out that it was to save little Barry's life."

Suddenly Mardon reached up to grab at the back of Barry's skull, fingers pulling the hair and yanking his head back. Barry gasped in pain, eyes flying open as he watched Mardon raise the knife in front of his face. Barry felt the flat side of the blade slide gently down his cheek, the cold metal warmed by his own blood already coating it, staining his already bloody face as Mardon caressed his cheek with it before pressing it against his throat.

"Your foster dad killed my brother to save you. This is all your fault, isn't that right Allen?" Mardon sneered, putting enough pressure on the blade to just nick the skin where a small amount of blood began to spill.

Len shouted behind the tape, causing Mardon to snap his head in his direction, the knife still pressed against Barry's throat. Mardon eyed Len up and down before his attention directed back at Barry whose Adam's apple bobbed nervously as he swallowed, his neck straining painfully with the pull Mardon still had on his hair. And just like that, Mardon lowered the knife and dropped his grip on Barry's hair, his head falling limp once again as he panted through his nose in temporary relief.

Mardon took two large strides, tucking the knife in the front of his waistband once more before squatting down in front of Len, reaching up to pull the tape quickly from his mouth.

"Let him go," Len immediately spoke, his tone nothing short of demanding. "You have me, West is on his way, you've made your damn point. Now let him go!"

"You really have gone soft," Mardon looked him up and down as if with pity. "Was it worth giving up all you were, the reputation you built, the gold and glory, for this kid?"

"He's worth everything," Len spat. The openness of his sentimentality did nothing to undercut the delivery of his statement. He knew he was playing right into Mardon's mind games but was uncaring at this point. The man he loved was bleeding out a mere two feet away and Len just needed Mardon an inch or two closer.

"Pathetic," Mardon chuckled but Len didn't miss Mardon swallowing uncomfortably before trying to hide the brief fear of the threat Len's voice held.

"Yes, you are," Len kept his eyes on Mardon, his voice hard and exaggerated as Captain Cold emerged. Any idea of Len having gone soft and losing all his edge would be retracted upon hearing his voice, cold as steel with underlying power. "You went as far as to dampen your own powers instead of using them to prove your point but all you've done is proven mine. You're a thug, nothing more."

Suddenly Mardon's fist connected with his jaw, a metallic flavor filling Len's mouth. A spit of blood escaped his mouth when his head snapped with the hit but he quickly turned to grin bloodily at the man's enraged face.

"My apologies. You're more than just a thug. You're also a sick bastard with no originality."

The second hit was expected but still sent his head whipping to the side. Mardon packed a punch, he'd give him that. But Mardon also gave him exactly what he needed.

"Big talk for someone who's about to watch me kill-Ahhh!" Mardon went to stand up from where he was hunched over Snart when a scream ripped from his throat and wild eyes met his before looking down to where the knife was now buried to the hilt in his stomach.

"Shoulda tied my arms behind my back," Len smiled, pulling with both hands the knife from Mardon's stomach, kicking out his legs to knock Mardon over to the floor.

He had swiped the small knife while Mardon hand hunched over him to gloat, eliciting the punches that distracted Mardon while he reached for the blade tucked carelessly in his belt. The man was cocky, underestimated Len, and clearly not aware of his pickpocketing skills. "Amateur."

"CCPD freeze!" Came the booming baritone of Joe West as he came running into the room, gun ready, just as Len turned the bloody knife towards his body and awkwardly began slicing through the duct tape around his wrists. Joe was followed by Ralph Dibny who held one of those fancy pulse rifles he'd seen at S.T.A.R. Labs. As Joe kicked Mardon over to his side so he could cuff him, hearing the bastard let out a scream as the knife injury was jarred, Dibny came to a pause in front of Len.

"Go check on Barry," Len shook his head, sawing at the duct tape, thankful for the thick sleeves of his coat that protected his arms from the haphazard awkwardness of cutting his own bindings.

Len watched as Ralph didn't wait to be told twice and took the few strides to where Barry hung limp against the wall.

"Jesus, Rookie," Ralph breathed as he got a good look at Barry. He looked thinner than he did five days ago but maybe it was the dirt and blood and ghostly paleness of his skin that made him look so. He was sweating, trembling, crying silently, probably from the evident pain of the knife wounds. The front of what was left of his shirt was covered with blood, still wet, and the fact that Barry was still awake, even if barely, told Ralph as well as Len who watched as he finally freed his hands, that Barry had been running on fumes of fear. Now that Mardon was apprehended and he could see Len and Joe both safe, those fumes were running out.

"You no-good son of a bitch!"

The roar that erupted from Joe stole both Ralph and Len's attention from Barry as they whipped their heads to see Joe pummeling a cuffed Mardon.

Len was able to finally cut himself free of the tape around his waist to the post and the tape around his ankles with ease now that his hands were unbound and he quickly raised to his feet. Len motioned to Ralph to stay with Barry while he ran over to where Joe now hovered over Mardon, the officer's gun pointed at him as he scowled up from where he lay on his back.

"You think this is funny? Give me one reason not to put a bullet in your head!" Joe yelled, his reaction clearly a response to something Mardon had said.

"Joe, don't," Len barked, standing behind the cop.

"You asked me before what I would do to save my family. He'll come after him again," Joe spoke low, pressing the gun against Mardon's head, not tearing his wild eyes away from where his finger hovered over the trigger.

Len slowly walked around to stand at Mardon's head, squatting down till he was eye level with Joe. He couldn't blame the man; he would like nothing more than to kill Mardon himself for what he'd done to Barry, the desire second only to wanting to hold Barry and never let him out of his sight ever again, to make sure he was safe, happy. He couldn't do that if the man Barry revered as a father killed a defenseless man, no matter how much he deserved to be punished. It broke Barry's moral code, something he'd enforced on Len, something Len was certain Barry had learned from the man currently holding the gun.

"You also told me you'd do whatever you had to for your son. He's going to need his family, his dad, after this," Len said evenly, no desperation or anger, just succinct. "You kill him, it doesn't matter what good you've done. You can't wash that blood off your hands, believe me. And you're a good man so you'll turn yourself in and go to prison and you can't be there for Barry then."

He watched as the finger moved away from the trigger but the gun still hovered over Mardon's brow, staring up at him not with fear but with a challenge. But the challenge being presented to Joe now from Len was more pressing, even more difficult when Len continued.

"He's already had to live with one father behind bars for half of his life. Don't make him do that again. He's been through enough."

Joe pulled the gun away instantly and looked up to Len across him, nodding. It wasn't gratitude for stopping him from doing something he'd regret because Joe would not feel remorse for taking Mardon out. It was gratitude to Len for reminding him of what was more important. Barry.

"Ralph, keep an eye on him," Joe kept his gun pointed at Mardon until Ralph came over who quickly placed a boot on Mardon's side and kept his own gun trained on the criminal out of precaution.

Len, still holding the knife that he'd taken from Mardon, the knife he'd stabbed him with and used to free himself, the knife that had been used to torture Barry, moved with quick steps to where Barry still hung from the ropes, still pinned to the wall with knives through his hands. His head hung, his breathing shallow and eyes closed. Ralph had cut the ropes at his ankles and removed the smothering gag, the fabric hanging loose around his neck now and the other cloth abandoned on the floor.

Len reached for the rope that secured Barry's left wrist to the beam above but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"We have to get him down," Len snapped, uncaring how desperate and broken he sounded, pulling his arm away from Joe roughly.

"Yes we do," Joe said, his turn to be the calm voice of reason, "but if we cut the ropes before we remove the knives pinning him to the wall they'll be the only things supporting his weight and it will tear through his hands."

Len nodded and turned to face Barry but was sidestepped by Joe, so quickly you'd almost think he had super speed.

"Barry, I need you to listen to me," Joe spoke softly, hands braced on the sides of Barry's neck, frowning at the amount of heat his son was giving off. Taking a deep breath and composing himself, Joe ducked his head to meet Barry's closed eyes that slowly began to open at hearing his dad's voice, "Can you hear me, son?"

Barry's head lifted slightly in Joe's gentle hold, eyes struggling to focus before nodding.

"We're going to get you down but we have to get those knives out of your hands first," Joe instructed him slowly and confidently, watching his son's eyes to make sure he was hearing him. "I'm going to put the gag back in so you can bite down on it okay? Do you understand, Barry?"

Barry opened his mouth just slightly as if he was about to say something. Instead, he closed his eyes, tongue flicking out briefly to moisten his dry, cracked lips, nodding a little stronger this time in response but still not saying anything. Joe brought the fabric up from around his neck to Barry's already parted lips and gently pushed it between his teeth. Barry couldn't stop the whimper as he bit down on the cloth, looking up at Joe with a determined stare and nodding again.

"That's good, Barr," Joe whispered, forcing a smile as he patted his hand against Barry's non bruised cheek. While Joe spoke, Len had watched the exchange from beside them, hands bracing Barry's left arm, thumb stroking the skin on Barry's wrist below the ropes, waiting for Joe's go ahead.

"This is going to hurt, son, but you'll get through it. You're strong," Joe whispered, watching as Barry allowed his head to fall back against the wall he was pinned to before nodding again.

"I'll get the blades. Hold him," Len croaked, grimacing at the sound of his voice. Len didn't want to cause the man he loved any pain, wanted nothing more than to comfort him and hold him close as he suffered, reassuring Barry that he was there for him, but based on how Barry was responding, he needed his father right now. And when Joe nodded his thanks at him, clearly swallowing down his emotions for the sake of his son, Len knew that Joe needed this just as much as Barry did.

"Stay focused on me, Barr," Joe insisted, hands cupping Barry's cheeks again as he brought his forehead close to Barry's, hearing the quickening shallow breathing as Barry braced for the incoming pain. "On three, Leonard."

Len counted down softly and with a quick firm move, he pulled the first blade from Barry's left hand. Barry screamed behind the gag, trying to pull away from the hold Joe had on his face but instead the older man pressed his forehead to his, whispering comforting nothings as Barry let out strangled whimpers behind the gag, nose panting heavily with fresh tears cutting through the tracks already disrupting the streaks of dirt and blood on his cheeks. Len was quick to move to the other hand, eager to rid the tortured young man of his current pain, even if it meant causing him more. On another three count, Len unsheathed the blade from Barry's right hand, but this time all that could be heard in response was a low, strangled cry as Barry lost consciousness completely, head listing to the side in Joe's grasp.

Joe released a stuttering breath and kissed the uninjured cheek of the now unconscious man before pulling away, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and moving to tie it around Barry's left palm in an effort to stem the blood flow. Len looked down at himself and used the knife in his hand to cut a strip from the hem of his shirt and followed Joe's lead, tying it around the right bleeding palm.

"I'll cut the ropes, you catch him," Joe ordered and Len didn't waste a second moving to support Barry. It made sense, Len was younger and stronger than Joe, but a few days ago Len knew Joe would never have even suggested Len put his hands on his son. But there was no hesitation from either of them, no thoughts other than Barry as Len wrapped his right arm around Barry's lean body, his left gently bracing Barry's right outstretched arm.

"I've got you, Scarlet," Len whispered to the passed out man as Joe cut through the first rope, supporting Barry's weight. Len eased the limb's descent as it dropped without the sudden suspension, gently lowering it down to Barry's side to hang, trying not to look at the bleeding wound dripping from Barry's palm beneath the makeshift bandage or the bright red welts peeking out from where the rope still wound around his wrist.

Joe moved to the other side, reaching up to cut at the rope suspending his left arm. Len wrapped his arms tighter around Barry's unresponsive body as Joe braced the limb gently, noticing the injured shoulder by the way it swelled and distorted. And with a snap, Barry was down, body limp as he collapsed deeper into Len's hold. He tucked Barry's head against his shoulder, tightening his hold, begging him with whispers to keep breathing as he felt the shallow rapid breaths against his face. He cradled the back of Barry's neck, keeping the younger man pressed tightly against his chest as Joe helped ease him to the ground.

Under the weight Len unceremoniously bent to his knees before falling back into a seated position on the floor, Joe helping protect Barry from further injury by easing him down between Len's sprawled legs. Barry's shoulders rested back against his chest, Len reaching up with his right hand to place it against Barry's brow, gently pulling the too warm head back to rest against his shoulder.

"God, he's burning up," Len whispered, brushing the sweat-soaked and tangled hair back, wrapping his left arm more securely around Barry's chest, holding him as close as he could. Joe made slow work of the ropes around Barry's wrists that pooled limply in his lap, trying to cut the rope as delicately as he could as not to cause any more sudden pain to his son.

As Len averted his gaze from Joe's careful sawing of the ropes and back to Barry's face, he was surprised and concerned to see wide green eyes staring back at him, clouded in pain.

"Hey," Len sighed, ready to say more but when Joe said his name, Len looked up. Joe motioned with his head to Barry's wrists, ready to try to free them from the bindings. Len nodded.

"Barr, this is going to hurt a bit," Joe said, hands hovering over Barry's wrists, thumbs gently stroking the inside of his bruised forearms. Barry nodded slowly, eyes closing, turning his head until his cheek rested against the crook of Len's neck.

With a few pulls the ropes were free and Len could see Barry's flushed face contort in pain, biting down on the cloth still between his teeth, moaning behind the gag as the ropes were pulled away from where they had been deeply embedded in his wrists, rough fibers still clinging to the broken flesh. Joe lay Barry's arms to rest loosely across his stomach and sighed as they twitched in pain.

Joe moved up on his knees from where he had been kneeling in front of them and reached to gently grab Barry's face in his hands.

"I'm going to take the gag out now, okay, son?" Thumbs traced the split left cheekbone gently, waiting for the nod before Joe lifted Barry's head from where it lay against Len's shoulder and steady fingers untied the knot of the cloth. Len marveled at how the man's hands didn't shake. Len knew how deeply Joe felt for Barry. To be able to keep his composure, Len wasn't sure how he could, but with gentle yet strong hands Joe eased the fabric from his teeth, not hesitating to gently wipe some of the blood away from the cracked corners of Barry's lips.

"There we go," Joe tried to smile and Len knew it was done only as an attempt for Barry because he could finally see the man's resolve start to crumble, could see the tears filling the older man's eyes as he cupped Barry's face.

"Joe," he rasped before coughing, tears spilling over his stained cheeks. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean-"

"Shhh," Joe interrupted, leaning forward to press his lips against Barry's forehead. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so proud of you, son."

Len didn't expect the broken sob that came from Barry as a response to Joe's words. As he watched the exchange, any anger, mixed feelings, or grudge against Joe West melted away. He no longer saw the cop who'd arrested him in the past or someone who lived on the other side of the tracks from Len's lifestyle. All he saw was a father concerned for his son, the father of the man he loved; all he saw between them was the special bond between a father and son that weren't tied together by blood but just the love, respect, and gratitude that flowed in their veins instead.

"The ambulance and squad will be here any minute," Joe said and it took Len a moment to realize he was speaking to him, eyes meeting the dark ones of the older man. "Ralph and I will take Mardon and guide the EMT's down here. Keep him with us."

"Yes sir," Len couldn't help the quiet response, unsure of where it came from other than his own growing respect for West. He couldn't even imagine being able to pull himself away from Barry right now and he admired the strength to do what needed to be done. He instinctually tightened his hold on the shaking form that turned into him.

He watched Joe lean in to press a kiss against Barry's forehead again, taking a moment to palm his cheek once more, brushing his thumb once over the warm, marred skin, before standing up and turning toward Mardon. He heard Ralph and Joe talk over Mardon's cursing but Len had already shifted focus back to the precious burden in his arms.

"I'm sorry," Barry whispered, eyes misty beneath a furrowed brow as he raised his arm just enough to rest over the one wrapped around his chest, fingers fisting the material of Len's sleeve weakly.

"What did I tell you about apologizing for nothing," Len forced himself to smile. "None of this is your fault, Barry."

"I wasn't," Barry turned his head slowly, half-opened eyes trying to focus on the face above him, "I wasn't quick enough to stop him from taking me. I couldn't escape."

Len wanted to stop the train of guilt before it even started. How someone could be kidnapped and tortured as punishment towards someone else and somehow take the blame, Len couldn't understand it. But that was Barry. And before he could even begin to try to placate the other man, Barry spoke softly again.

"Lisa and Iris?" he breathed softly, chest heaving, eyes pleading up at Len.

"Lisa is still in Gotham last I checked and Iris is at S.T.A.R. Labs waiting for you," Len replied, not sure what Barry was asking.

"He said...that if I couldn't give him what he needed," Barry continued weakly, biting his bottom lip in response to pain that flared in his body, "that he would hurt them instead."

"No one else got hurt, love," Len answered, reaching his hand up again to brush Barry's hair back over and over, leaning over him to kiss his temple.

"Love," Barry sighed softly, eyelids fluttering a few times.

"No, Barry, stay with me," Len shook the man in his arms, relief coming briefly as Barry's eyes shot open but fleeing instantly as they filled with tears.

"I'm sorry," Barry whispered again, eyes clenching tightly.

"It's okay," Len slid his fingers through the damp hair, tilting Barry's head back to look at him, trying to keep his own tears at bay. He could hear the sounds of people talking over each other and footsteps above them as they headed their way. It reminded him of the day at the bank, Barry dying in his arms, voices approaching, and for only the second time in his life, Len was happy the cops had arrived. "You're going to be okay, I just need you to say with me, Scarlet."

"Len," Barry's voice was hoarse and quiet, eyes blinking rapidly but falling closed with a pained sigh.

"Barry?" Len asked, shaking him gently but getting no response. "Baby, please open your eyes."

"Sir?" A voice forced him to look up from where he had been focused on his unconscious boyfriend, surprising him because he hadn't even heard anybody enter the room. But there were two paramedics standing around where he sat with Barry in his lap, bags and supplies in hand. One tall, pale skin and blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun on his head, lean and maybe Barry's age, the second a slightly older black man with buzzed dark hair, shorter but a strong build, his uniform indicating he was the field supervisor, both looking at him expectantly.

The two paramedics crouched down in front of Len as they gently eased Barry from Len's hold, Barry's head lolling back against the older paramedic's supporting arm. Barry's breathing was harsher than it should have been, his fever higher than safe and Len fought the urge to take him back into his arms. But he moved to his knees and tried to keep enough distance for the professionals to work but also nearby in case Barry needed him as they lay him flat on the ground.

"Barry," the tall EMT said rather loudly, using his penlight to check Barry's pupils. "Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?" He turned to his partner. "Pupils are dilated and he's unresponsive."

"Pulse is 110; respiration 28. Pale, clammy skin," The older EMT supplied, examining Barry. "Blunt force trauma, extensive bruising, lacerations on his abdomen, chest, and arms, puncture wounds to the hands, left clavicle and right pectoral."

Len stood by silently, listening to the clinical tone of the men as they communicated to each other the condition of their patient, unable to look anywhere but Barry's face as it was covered with an oxygen mask by the third EMT, a petite red-headed female that Len wondered how he missed her joining them. She focused solely on prepping Barry as the other two examined him. The sudden shift in tone had Len snapping from Barry's face to the EMTs.

"Pressure is low. Look at this," the older one said as he indicated the area on Barry's lower torso with a blue glove covered hand. "Abdomen swelling, possible internal injury, and hemorrhage. We need to push fluids and get him transported."

Almost on cue, two additional EMTs arrived with a stretcher, followed by Joe who came to stand beside where Len kneeled.

"Let me get his IV started and we'll be ready for transport," the red-headed EMT spoke to the new arrivals. "Secure his left arm, it appears separated from the shoulder."

"Got it," the brunette EMT holding the front of the stretcher nodded.

"How bad?" Len finally found his voice, a lump in his throat that had been threatening to suffocate him for the last few minutes.

"Critical," the blonde male EMT who had been the first to address him when he declared Barry unresponsive, closing the equipment box as he stood. "Internal injuries with the probability of internal bleeding. Liver, maybe spleen. They'll know more once they get him to the hospital."

"Not the hospital," Joe dictated, "He needs to be taken to S.T.A.R. Labs."

"Sir, with all due respect..." the redhead started.

"He was struck by lightning seven years ago and has very specific medical needs. His doctor is at S.T.A.R. Labs," Joe interrupted.

"Sir, I know you're the captain of the CCPD but-" the blonde EMT tried to interject.

"He's also this man's father," Len cut off the man. He understood they were just trying to do their jobs but they needed to get Barry to Caitlin, end of story.

"Then S.T.A.R. Labs it is," the older EMT nodded at Joe. And without another word the paramedics worked quickly and efficiently secured Barry to the stretcher. Joe and Len followed behind as they carried him up and out of the cellar where flashing lights of ambulances and squad cars swarmed the field.

Len could see Ralph talking with the detective that had detained Len when he'd been accused of murder, Mardon in the back seat on the car. Ralph nodded his way and knew Len that he had everything control with Mardon, that Len could focus on Barry.

They made it to the ambulance and the paramedics loaded Barry into the back of the vehicle, the blonde man and redhead behind the two who would tend to the injured man as they rode to S.T.A.R. Labs.

Without asking permission, Len began to climb into the vehicle after him but was stopped by a hand on his arm by the fifth paramedic who had joined them in the cellar, a muscular Latino man with kind eyes.

"Sir, family only. And you're injured yourself, you should let us take a look at you," he said.

"He is family. He's his partner," Joe came up beside them, addressing the paramedic before turning to Len. "Go with him. I'll meet you there once I make sure Mardon is secure at the precinct. Ralph's gonna take my car and join the police escort to S.T.A.R. Labs. Call me if anything happens before I get there."

Len nodded his thanks to Joe, unsure what to say, and wasted no more time as he jumped into the vehicle. He sat on the bench next to the stretcher, the Latin paramedic climbing in behind him and closing the doors.

And just like that, they were off, the sounds of sirens and lights surrounding them as they pulled away from the farm but Len paid little mind. His focus was solely on Barry's slack face.

The oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, barely hiding the bruising and blood beneath. His hair was plastered to his skin so deathly pale in contrast to the vivid red staining it. Len couldn't help but take Barry's right hand in his, a hand now wrapped heavily in gauze. The younger man was so cold, so still, it was terrifying. He'd never met anybody who was more in motion than Barry Allen, whether he was fidgeting, buzzing with untapped super speed or racing all over the place. He was rarely ever still.

Len took a deep breath and let it escape shakily from his mouth, trying to quell the rising fear and emotions threatening to consume him. Barry had to be okay. They'd taken so much to get here, Len wasn't ready to let it go, to let him go. Barry was his sun and Len wasn't willing to go back to the dark world he'd come from. He finally had something in his life that belonged to him honestly, that was given to him without expectation, something that he loved wholly. He wouldn't except anything other than Barry making it out with his life so they could live it together like they promised each other.