After Barry gets hit by a mysterious super weapon that renders him unconscious and his super healing powers null-and-void, Len storms into S.T.A.R. Labs looking for answers as to how Team Flash could let this happen.
Warning for mention of bruises and injuries.
I see this as kind of taking place towards the beginning of their relationship, when Len still butts heads with Barry's friends because they don't accept him. I also kind of feel like Len would have been able to see Harrison Wells for what he was to a degree if he cared enough about Barry's well-being and spent any time around him. And lastly, this diverts from the formula of the series a little bit since Len doesn't technically fall asleep with Barry in this one, but I figure it's close enough xD
"Where is he?" Len roars, storming into S.T.A.R. Labs with his cold gun powered up and raised.
"Snart!" Caitlin yelps, chasing after him down the corridor that leads to the heart of the labs' command center. "You're not allowed to be here!" Not that that's ever stopped him. Even before he and Barry became an official 'couple' (a thought that still fills her with a mixture of confusion, anger, and disgust, regardless of how happy Len seems to make Barry), the second Leonard Snart found S.T.A.R. Labs' location, he began barging in uninvited as if he owned the place.
"I said where is he!?"
"Mr. Snart" – Harrison Wells emerges from one of the tangential labs and joins the pursuit – "I know that you and Barry have a … relationship, but that does not give you permission to waltz in here any time you want."
"You know, I ain't hearin' what I wanna hear, so I'll tell you what … Dr. Snow …" He turns on Caitlin, and she skids to a halt so suddenly she almost snaps a heel "… if you don't tell me where Barry is on the count of three, I'm gonna shoot someone, and you get to decide who." He brings his gun down and aims squarely at Dr. Wells' chest. Caitlin gasps. Dr. Wells appears unimpressed. "I'm leaning towards wheels here because, frankly, something about you has never quite sat right with me."
"No. Don't. Don't shoot him," Caitlin says in a calm voice while taking a shaky step into the line of fire. "I'll take you to him."
"There we go." Len shoulders his weapon as Caitlin takes the lead. "See what happens when we all play nice? I get what I want, and no one gets hurt."
Dr. Wells chuckles humorously as he falls in place behind Snart following Caitlin as she takes them deeper into S.T.A.R. Labs, into an area that Len can't recall ever seeing before. It looks disturbingly like the I.C.U. at St. Andrews, the brown stone corridor of S.T.A.R. Labs transitioning suddenly into stark white and sterile everything – walls, floor, even the ceiling. This new hall leads to a single room at the end where, through the bulletproof glass window to the right of the door, Len can already see several people gathered.
Iris, Joe, and Cisco. Of course, Len thinks. Along with Dr. Snow and Dr. Wells, that would make the only five people in Barry's life that "matter" … according to them.
As they approach, Len gets a closer look inside and notices nothing on the walls - no TV, no flat-screen panels. Len would think they could find a way to link Barry's father in somehow, seeing as his son might be dying and all, but apparently he doesn't matter, either.
Well, Len will be damned if he's expected to stay outside, peeking in through the window like a stray fucking dog.
He sidesteps Caitlin and opens the door before anyone can stop him.
"Mr. Snart," he hears Dr. Wells start as he proceeds to weed past a sullen Cisco and a weepy Iris until he's standing at the foot of Barry's bed, dead and center. But despite his act of dominance, what Len sees in front of him renders him useless.
He's never seen Barry Allen look so weak before; so helpless. He's covered in bruises – black eyes, scratches down both cheeks, scrapes up and down his jaw, three layers of road rash at least on the bridge of his nose, and a gash over his left eye that needed two rows of stitches. His right arm is in a cast. Len can see his left leg in a cast as well, and his left wrist in a brace. He has tubes and wires coming in and out of him, snaking underneath the blanket, pumping in clear fluids and pulling out a viscous, green, glowing liquid that's being collected into a biohazard bag hanging off the metal frame of the bed. All in all, Barry looks like someone tossed him off a rooftop and caught him in a barbed wire net … but how can he? How can he be this battered? Len has seen Barry take a hit. Hell, Len himself has shot Barry – twice. But Barry always recovers quick-style. It's part of what his body does. It heals itself insanely fast. So how can he be laying here in this bed, so damaged?
"What happened to him?" Len asks, beyond pissed that no one on the Flash "super team" gave Len the heads up. They all have the number to his burner phone, even Detective West, which Len thought showed a tremendous amount of faith on his part - a faith that has yet to be reciprocated. But Len got his information from his sister Lisa, and as far as Len is concerned, that's as good to him as having seen it himself.
"He was shot," Caitlin says, "by some kind of repeater weapon that we've never seen before."
"Repeater weapon?" Len says, moving to Barry's right side, which seems to be the least destroyed.
"He took the blast," Cisco explains, "then the weapon seemed to rewind time and hit him again."
"And how many hits did he take?" Len asks between teeth slowly being ground into powder. He reaches for Barry's hand, but only has the heart to gently brush the fingertips.
"We … we don't know," Cisco admits.
"Well, why isn't he recovering? What did that weapon do to him!?"
"We don't know that either."
"What do you know?"
"We … we actually don't know much of anything," Cisco says, begging for that to be okay even though he knows it's not the answer Len wants. "We've been reviewing footage of the attack, but we …"
"What do you mean reviewing footage?" Frustrated, Len looks to the group in the room for a clear-cut answer. "Weren't you watching him? Aren't you guys supposed to have his back?"
"There was some kind of electrical disturbance," Caitlin says, "and we …"
"We kind of … lost track of him," Cisco finishes, jumping on the grenade for Caitlin even though he's certain that if Len doesn't want to accept that as an answer that he's the one who's going to become an icicle either way.
"Yeah?" Len feels himself growing furious, the contempt from dozens of lectures on how Len isn't good enough for Barry, how he'll never be good enough, how someday he's going to get Barry killed bubbling underneath his skin. "And how did that happen, huh? Aren't you guys his team? You've got him wired to the eyeballs – audio, visual, you monitor his heart, his muscles, his brain ... you're supposed to know exactly where he is and exactly what he's doing. So how could you let this happen!?"
"He's a superhero, Snart!" Cisco argues, taking the risk since he figures he's a dead man if he can't save Barry anyway. "His job is to protect the people of Central City! Every time he leaves this building, he knows what he's getting himself into."
"That's some convenient horse shit, isn't it?" Len grumbles. "Putting that responsibility on him? How long has he been doing this for? Six months? Barely a year? Do you think he completely understands what being a superhero means?"
"Oh, and you do?" Joe snaps.
"Yeah, I do. I know exactly what it means; that's why I ain't one. It means that when the going gets tough, the only person you can rely on is yourself. Because when things are good and you're saving people's lives, you're the king of the world. But you make one tiny mistake, and everyone turns against you."
"He can rely on us," Cisco says. "No matter what, we have his best interests at heart."
"Pardon me, Mr. Ramon, but you failed!"
"You being here and fighting with Barry's team won't help him," Dr. Wells says. "If you want to help Barry, really help him, then help us find out what that weapon is and how to get a hold of it."
Len tilts his head sideways as he considers Dr. Wells. The paralyzed Dr. Wells in his wheelchair, always so calm, cool, and collected, who always seems to know the right thing to say to nudge people in the direction he wants them to go. It's like a game of chess to him. This whole team, Barry included, are just pieces, with Dr. Wells pushing them around the board.
Well, Len is no one's pawn, and as soon as he can make it happen, neither will Barry.
Len can see these soft-hearted simpletons believing that what Dr. Wells says is true, that the best thing for Len to do is hit the streets and find that gun. But someone has to look after Barry Allen, someone with the unique ability to protect him, and the only person who can do that, in Len's opinion, is Len.
"I'll get the word out to my guys on the streets," Len offers. "If they know anything about the weapon that hit Barry, then they'll tell me … but I'm staying."
"You can't stay," Dr. Wells says decisively. Len has to hand it to him. That calm, real or fake, doesn't budge. "We're not harboring criminals."
"If you guys get to stay, then I get to stay."
"We're his friends," Caitlin points out.
"And I'm his boyfriend."
"We love him."
"And I don't?"
"I don't know, Snart," Joe cuts in. "You're the one with the cold gun …"
"You've got a gun, too, you know."
"… that you stole …
"Technically, I'm not the one who stole it. Plus, I wouldn't even have it if someone in this room didn't build it to begin with. And why? Why don't you remind us, Cisco" - Len turns to the man inching farther and farther towards the corner of the room - "why you made this gun in the first place?"
"… and a permanent reservation at Iron Heights," Joe continues so Cisco doesn't feel obligated to answer. Of all of the people in that room, Joe doesn't feel that Cisco is the one who needs to atone for any alleged wrongs. "Why don't you tell us where you were before you showed up here? And what were you doing? Then tell us how much you love him."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Len growls.
"It means that if you love Barry as much as you say you do, wouldn't you stop with the criminal shit and join his team? Be on the right side of justice for once instead of constantly making him choose between what's right and you?"
"Really…" Len chuckles dryly. "You wanna play that game? The one where we decide who's done Barry worse? I'm the obvious choice, of course. The appointed asshole. But let's take a look at the way his best friends have treated him over the years." He whips around and immediately points at Iris. "You. You lived with him most of his life and yet you had no clue how he felt about you? Didn't have any hint? No idea whatsoever? But that's not even the worst of it, is it? You share that honor with dear old dad." He looks at Joe, matching him glare for glare. "You. You raised him. Said you thought of him as a son. The first time you ever got on my case about treating him right and not hurting him, you called him the most honest, most honorable person you ever knew. And yet you couldn't bring yourself to believe him when he told you, repeatedly, what he saw the night his mother died. It took him being smacked into a coma by a particle accelerator explosion, and then getting super powers, for you to even entertain the idea that he might be telling the truth, didn't it?"
"Dad?" Iris whispers anxiously, waiting for her father to come up with an objection, then withers when she sees he doesn't have one.
"And you three" - Len sweeps a hand at Caitlin, Cisco, and Dr. Wells, but with his focus mainly on Dr. Wells - "whose interest in him from the get-go wasn't helping him survive the lightning strike or teaching him to control his powers, but what he could do to help repair your destroyed reputations."
"Did he tell you that?" Cisco asks, hurt.
"No. But I'm not blind and I'm not stupid."
"But you are a criminal," Caitlin puts in angrily. "A killer."
"Yup," Len says, unapologetic of that fact. "Barry knows that just as well as you all do. And yet he still lets me into his…"
"Snart…" Joe interjects.
Len smirks at Joe West's impotent display "…inner sanctum. And he still considers you lot his bestest best buds, so not a one of us in this room is any better than the other … as far as it concerns Barry," he clarifies to a room full of indignant expressions. "Ergo, by the transitive property of being a jerk to Barry Allen, I have just as much right to stay as the rest of you do."
"The hell you do …" Joe takes a step forward, but a hand on his arm – Iris's hand – holds him back.
"No," she says quietly. "He … he's right. He's absolutely right. He gets to stay."
Len can't help grinning victoriously, egging them on even though they outnumber him, not only by body count, but technologically. Cisco in particular can come up with something lickety-split that will more than put Len in his place, but Len has guilt holding Cisco back … for now. Len's true problem is that he wouldn't actually shoot anyone in this room for Barry's sake.
Except for, maybe, the guy in the wheelchair, grinning at Len the way Len usually grins at an easy target. Len knows how to play the creepy card, but Harrison Wells might have him beat.
"But, Iris…"
"He's not going to hurt Barry," Iris insists, though she's not as sure about everyone else's safety, "and besides, we need his help." Iris locks eyes with the criminal hovering protectively over the man who's been like a brother to her … a man she only recently realized she might possibly love. "He loves Barry, just as much as the rest of us do. He should get to stay."
"Smart lady," Len says since he has no intention of saying something more conventional and less condescending, like thank you. "So it's settled. You guys go about your business, and I'll lamp in here … keep an eye on my boy."
"Come on," Dr. Wells says, not accepting defeat at the hands of Leonard Snart as easily as he makes it seem, "let's get to work. We have to find that weapon, and if we can't, we have to figure out a way to help Barry."
Harrison turns his wheelchair towards the door, which Caitlin rushes forward to open for him.
"Don't steal anything," Cisco throws out lamely, still looking stung.
"Don't tell me what to do, Ramon," Len tosses back in the hopes of keeping him peeved.
"Just … let us know the second he wakes up," Iris requests. "Please?"
Len doesn't say anything. He smiles and nods politely, leaving her blank-faced since even his default smiles are generally unnerving. He doesn't hold anything against Iris really except for the torch Barry had been carrying for her, the one he held on to even after he and Len hooked up.
Joe exits last, giving Snart one final evil eye before following his daughter out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. Like that's going to accomplish anything, which both men know it won't, but it's a small act of defiance; Joe's way of saying, "I don't approve of you being here."
Len doesn't care whether Joe does or not. He's not getting rid of him. Len can always close that door later.
Len waits till the team's footsteps bleed down the corridor. He knows it doesn't matter that he and Barry are finally alone. They're never alone in this place. There are cameras everywhere. He flips off the one he suspects is aimed at them for good measure before turning his attention back to Barry. He's not going to give himself permission to become emotional like Iris, or even bitter like Caitlin. He has to keep his wits about him, detached from the fury broiling within him if he's going to help track down the asshole who did this to his boyfriend. He pulls out his cell phone and sends out a mass text to his own team – his sister, his partner, and five other people he mildly trusts, and who he deems capable enough to track this weapon down … and eliminate its owner.
Team Flash might not appreciate that, but they only wanted the weapon. In Len's mind, the life of the person who shot Barry Allen is already over.
He just needs to deliver the message that when you're dead, lie down.
Mick Rory and his heat gun should be able to do that quite nicely.
"Don't worry, Barry," Len says, fitting himself beside his boyfriend's body as best he can on the small bed. It's difficult for him to avoid the wires and tubes. He maneuvers up, over, and then underneath, but eventually he comes up with a way. He does it by lying on his side with one leg over the edge and an arm above his head, but the discomfort doesn't concern him. As long as he has Barry's body pressed against his, and a clear line of sight for the door, it doesn't matter that there's a cramp forming in his hip, or a sharp pain, like a pulled muscle, blooming up his side. "No one's gonna hurt you, Barry. Not again. Not now. Not while I'm around."
