He stared at the young man before him, whose wide eyes shimmered with honest concern, brown hair mussed from being matted down by that ridiculous red mask. The yellow lightning bolts on the sides of it made the kid—Barry—look like some garish cartoon character brought to life—though he couldn't deny appreciating the way the rest of the red leather hugged every curve of Barry's body.

Barry. He knew Barry's name now. He just couldn't remember his own.

"Snart," Barry said earnestly.

Okay, he had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

"Your name," Barry explained as if that should have been obvious. "It's Leonard Snart. That doesn't sound familiar?"

He shook his head. Leonard—his name was Leonard—but that didn't feel right for some reason when he thought of himself that way. It wasn't exactly a common name; with the added surname it should be more than enough to spark some sense of recognition, but his mind remained blank.

"I hit my head?" he asked, still feeling groggy, his mind and vision too blurry to focus on much more than Barry hovering over him, which at least had the effect of calming him despite him having every right to panic.

Barry started to nod when suddenly he shouted, "Your head!" as if only just then remembering. "I mean yes—yes, you hit your head, so don't rest it all the way back. You have a bad cut where you got struck. Let me just…uhh…" He made to dart one direction, then the other, then finally rested his gloved hands next to Leonard on the bed. He was adorable flustered. "One thing at a time. Right. Let me change quick so I can help you take care of that cut. I think you need stitches."

Leonard was about to say something, resisting the urge to reach back and feel this supposed cut, when the pain of it started to catch up with him. Even with the hospital bed propped up so that he sat back without his head resting fully on the padding, it—and several other places on his body—stung. He grimaced.

"I will be right back," Barry promised him.

And then he vanished.

Panic seized Leonard at the awful realization that he might have just hallucinated the whole exchange and was actually alone. He made to sit up again, look around, call out, but in the next moment the kid was back. If he hadn't seen Barry without his mask the past few minutes, he almost wouldn't have recognized him, changed from his skin tight red leather suit to a black sweatshirt with the S.T.A.R. Labs logo on it in white, and a pair of grey sweatpants. And he was barefoot. He'd vanished and reappeared in a completely different outfit.

Leonard scrambled up the bed away from Barry. He was losing his mind.

"Oh shit, no, it's fine!" Barry held up his hands, leaning over Leonard despite trying to look unthreatening. "I'm fine. You're fine. I just…do that." He gestured wildly and vague behind him to indicate his miraculous exit and reemergence. "That's The Flash…that I do. It's why they call me The Flash," he said more deliberately. "Sorry, I'm used to you knowing that I do that." His hands dropped to his sides with a look of utter defeat, deflated from having put Leonard through yet another traumatic moment.

But the boyish pout was enough to ease some of Leonard's distress. He forced himself to relax back into the bed. "You do that," he repeated slowly. He wasn't crazy; he didn't think he was. If The Flash was a hallucination, he was a damn impressive one. "What…are you?" Leonard hated the way that came out, but he didn't know how else to ask.

"Human," Barry said, earnest again not offended. "A meta human. It's complicated but something happened to me and now I can run faster than anyone on the planet. And do other things really fast." His face brightened in an impossibly wide, toothy smile for a moment, and the expression was so sweet and genuine, it instantly soothed the remainder of Leonard's anxiety. "I have the suit to hide my identity so I can help people without anyone knowing who I am. It's also more aerodynamic, flame retardant. It's necessary, I swear." His smile fell with his insistence, as if he had explained this to others several times.

It was a fairly ostentatious outfit. And skin tight.

"So you're a vigilante?" Leonard asked, eyeing Barry up and down because while the leather had been appealing, the line of his body beneath the sweats was still very nice to look at, and housed a remarkable ability. "With superpowers?"

A corner of Barry's mouth twitched again, as if it was more used to smiling than any other expression. "Sort of. Yeah."

"Do I have powers?" Leonard asked as the thought struck him.

"No," Barry assured him. He glanced over his shoulder, and then dashed—at normal speed—to a nearby table where a parka rested. He moved the jacket aside to reveal a bulky gun like something out of a video game. "You use this. It shoots a beam of cold that can freeze anything in seconds, hence the parka. Oh!" He dashed back to the bed, but then seemed to force himself to go extra slow as he reached toward Leonard's neck.

Looking down and following the movement of Barry's hands, Leonard realized he had a slim pair of black goggles resting on his chest. Barry had to grip his neck to hold the strap down so that pulling them off wouldn't aggravate his now stinging head wound, and he did so with such tender care and hesitation, like it was the first time he'd ever touched Leonard and wasn't sure if it was allowed.

"Thanks," Leonard said. He didn't mind at all.

"Sure." Barry bit his lip as surprise and indecision shifted in his eyes like maybe he'd never heard Leonard thank him before either. He moved to place the goggles with the other articles on the table.

Some of this wasn't adding up, and trying to remember, to picture the first time or even the most recent time he'd seen this tall and yet oddly demure young man made his head ache. Leonard looked around the room more critically as he waited for Barry to return to the bed. They were definitely alone.

"So we're partners then?" he asked.

"What?" Barry's eyes went as wide as they yet had. "No. We're not…we're…uhh…" One hand reached up to scrub at the back of his hair as if he might pull a few strands out.

"But you saved me," Leonard frowned at him.

"I did! Because you saved me." Barry sighed when Leonard's frown only deepened. His hands moved to grip the back of his neck, elbows both raised, before they shot out from his body to gesture at Leonard emphatically.

It was fascinating to witness how much Barry said without words, how much his body tried to convey what was clearly spinning too quickly in his head.

"Okay, so…you pushed me out of the way from falling debris after you shot it with your cold gun and caused it to start to fall in the first place. But it wasn't on purpose!" He waved his hands as if to banish that thought from Leonard's mind. But something was off. Barry was trying too hard to spare his feelings.

"I tried to hurt you…" he realized.

"You didn't mean to—"

"I'm the bad guy," he stated rather than asked, because that was obvious now. Even if the kid hadn't explained that he was playing hero, it was clear Barry couldn't be anything but virtuous. His emotions weren't just on his sleeve, they were hovering around him like a flashing neon sign. Which meant that Leonard…

His eyes drifted down to his hands. They were gloved like Barry's had been, but in black.

"You were trying to stop me. I was trying to hurt you."

"No," Barry's hands came into view and rested resolutely on top of his gloved ones without any of the hesitation he'd shown while removing the goggles, "it was an accident. I mean…you were committing a crime. Robbing a bank, actually. But I don't think you'd ever really mean to hurt me. Not anymore."

Leonard gradually lifted his chin only to find Barry's eyebrows downturned in the most pitiable look of compassion. Barry smiled, but with his eyes like that, it made Leonard want to soothe the kid in return.

"You're my nemesis, sure," Barry said, trying to make it sound casual, "but I think you sort of like that. It's fun for you."

"For me? But not for you?"

"Uhh…" Barry's smile faltered.

"Do I hurt other people?" Leonard pressed. If he was the bad guy, the villain, then some part of him should be used to that idea, even if he couldn't remember. Instead it felt bitter and heavy in his chest.

Barry patted his hands once more but then pulled back, a bit of color rising in his cheeks as if he thought he'd let that moment last too long. "We made a deal. I let you do your thing, mostly, and you keep from hurting innocent people or revealing my secret identity to anyone. You found out and…"

He gave a long, drawn out sigh and crossed his arms subconsciously. His eyebrows were still downturned, and Leonard almost smiled despite the somber tone of the conversation as he thought of an oversized puppy.

"Look, it's a long story, and I'm not really sure what the protocol is here, but I think I'm supposed to lead you toward remembering things on your own, not just tell you everything. Oh! Let me help you with your cut." His arms dropped as he remembered, and he moved to stand behind the bed.

Leonard sat up further to give him a better vantage. The feel of tentative fingers brushing his hair aside made him shiver.

"It's bad but not bleeding anymore," Barry said. "Stiches I can do easy, and super-fast. You'll barely even feel it."

"Wait, what…?" Leonard started to say, but Barry flashed away in a gust of air and was gone. He returned with supplies from one of the other rooms in moments. "Hang on…" Leonard tried again, but Barry disappeared with another gust of air at the back of Leonard's head.

He knew the kid was already back there about to stitch him up, but before he could attempt any additional protests, there was swift pressure, and a sharp sting, and then Barry was in front of him again.

"See, not so bad," Barry said, dumping the supplies on a little cart near the bed, which now included bloodied gauze.

The speed had made the whole ordeal seem like nothing, over in moments, but Leonard had still been given stitches without anything to dull the pain, and the steady sting started to increase. He hissed, trying not to show too much strain on his face. Instinctively, he reached back to touch the damage.

"No! Don't do that," Barry chastised him with a swift dart toward him, palms out as if he meant to grab Leonard's hand and physically stop him, though he refrained from going that far. "Sorry. We don't have anything to help with numbing the pain, since none of that really works on me anymore—super metabolism to go with the super speed—but I know Caitlin keeps some ibuprofen around."

He vanished yet again and Leonard heard shuffling in a nearby office, then Barry was back with a bottle of pills and a glass of water from somewhere. Leonard didn't think he would ever get used to that. He accepted the pills and water, downing a good 800 milligrams as he definitely needed the maximum dose.

"Does anything else hurt?" Barry asked, after setting the pills and water glass on the same tray as the gauze.

Leonard considered that. He really wished he could lie back and close his eyes, wait for the pain killers to take effect and still the sting from the now stitched cut, as well as his steadily growing, pounding headache, but the brunt of the wound was right where he wanted to lie back.

He pushed the pain aside as best he could. "I don't think so," he said at last. "I mean…my neck aches, but that makes sense if I got hit from behind. I feel sore, but not like anything is broken or bleeding."

"Let me just check real quick," Barry said with a short, decisive nod that Leonard wasn't sure he understood until the kid became a blur of black and grey moving around the bed. The sight wasn't what made Leonard breathless though.

Barry was touching him as he went, like a gentle but lightning fast pat-down—everywhere. It created goosebumps in its wake, and left Leonard feeling flush and tingly. It definitely helped distract him from the pain in his head.

"Okay, you seem fine. You have no idea how lucky you are." Barry didn't seem to realize what he had done to Leonard, but as he looked him over and then met Leonard's eyes again, the sight of him breathing heavily, tense and rigid as he sat up, helped the lightbulb to turn on. Barry gaped. "Oh god, I am so sorry. That was weird, wasn't it? I'm just antsy." He rubbed both forearms at the same time like some kind of drug addict.

Must be the adrenaline and super metabolism, Leonard thought, or maybe Barry had always been like this.

"I tend to speed through things more when I'm antsy. Sorry," he said again. He kept apologizing.

He wasn't just antsy, adorable as that was; he was nervous.

"Are you afraid of me?" Leonard asked, frowning as the tingling from Barry's rapid-touch check-over started to subside.

"What? No!" Barry shook his head a little too hard.

Leonard was glad the kid had no knack for lying, but it made the ache in his chest tighten. "I'm not exactly in any condition to try hurting you again. I also don't remember what it's like to want to hurt you."

"I know that," Barry said, gripping the edge of the bed to steady him and bring him closer to Leonard. He kept switching between this erratic mess and deliberate sincerity. "Even if you remember in the next five minutes—and please understand I feel this way when you do remember—we can just call it even tonight, okay? You can leave. You can even take your stuff." He nodded back at the parka, goggles, and cold gun on the table.

Then he deflated again and Leonard wasn't sure why, he only knew that it was because of him, because Barry's eyes traveled down his body and up again until they bore into Leonard's own with sympathy and regret.

"I let my temper get the better of me tonight. It's my fault…I mean, it's also your fault," he said with a moment of pouty anger, "but I'm the good guy, I'm supposed to be better than this." Barry seemed to realize the moment he said that how it sounded.

Leonard didn't want to be the bad guy right now.

"Sorry, shit," Barry said—and Leonard was starting to love the way he sounded when he cursed. "I'm failing miserably at dealing with this, I know. But I'm sure you'll remember in no time. You weren't out for that long, really, this is just temporary." He flashed his sunny smile in the hopes of easing Leonard's concerns. "You'll probably remember before the end of the night, by morning for sure, and we can go right back to hating each other."

Leonard's eyes widened.

"Not that I hate you!" Barry cried. He hung his head this time only to look up bashfully. "I was just angry. God, I suck at this."

Leonard's lips twitched but couldn't form into a true smile when there was obviously so much left unsaid, so much unremembered. The sting was there even if the memories weren't—knowing he was the bad guy and the cause of so much apparent grief for this kid who had saved him.

"What did I do?" he asked. "Besides the bank robbery."

"Oh…it doesn't matter," Barry dismissed.

"It matters to me."

"We…" Barry scratched his head again, back to nervous and jittery, "we were working together for a common good and you…double crossed me."

"Oh. Sorry?" Leonard wished he knew if he was actually sorry, though he doubted it, given how Barry seemed to regard him. Still, he felt sorry now; he hated the thought of letting this kid down if it caused him to make that face.

"You don't have to say that, I know you don't mean it." The smile that had slipped into Barry's expression melted away in another flash of dread. "I mean, you don't know how to mean it, because you didn't… Urg! Sorry, this is really weird. I guess I thought you'd be more…like you, even without your memories, but you seem like you don't really like anything I'm telling you."

"Well, would you want to wake up one day and be told you're the villain of the story?" Leonard liked that even less when he said it out loud.

Barry chewed his lip. "Maybe it's a nature versus nurture thing, which, if you think about it, is really kind of sad…" Another look of alarm filled his eyes, reiterating that he clearly never thought of his words before he spoke them. "I am really putting my foot in my mouth. Please tell me to shut up."

This time Leonard did smile. He liked the honesty. He liked everything about Barry so far. "It's okay," he said. "You're cute when you ramble."

Barry promptly blushed as red as his discarded suit. "I..." He stared at Leonard and opened his mouth only for silence to come out like he had no idea how to respond to that.

"You're not used to me being nice to you, are you?" Leonard asked with a quirk to his smile.

Barry relaxed a little but still had a flush in his cheeks and down his neck where it disappeared—Leonard wondered how low—beneath his sweatshirt. "I know you can be nice. You're usually pretty nice to your sister. Your sister!"

"What?"

"Oh my god, I am such an idiot, she was probably at the bank, but I was so focused on you…" Barry trailed off and moved to stand closer to Leonard's head, gesturing excitedly. "I can call her." He paused for emphasis then rushed to the parka. He checked every pocket he could find, but didn't turn up anything. He looked back at Leonard who, understanding, checked his pants pockets, but there was nothing there either.

"I have a sister?" he asked, trying to digest that. It was the one thing so far that warmed him a little, something fond stirring in his gut even though he couldn't conjure her face.

"Yeah…" Barry said, frowning at not being able to find Leonard's phone. "You're really close from what I can tell. I guess it makes sense you wouldn't bring a cell with you on a job, but I don't know any other way to contact Lisa."

"Lisa…"

"Does that sound familiar?" Barry brightened.

Leonard searched his brain, but while the ibuprofen was starting to take effect, trying to remember made it ache again. "No…" he lamented. "She's probably worried about me, huh?"

Their eyes met again, and the honest sympathy from Barry was starting to get to Leonard. What if he never remembered? He knew somehow, deep down, the one thing he'd never want to forget is his sister. He wished he could picture her…

"It'll be okay," Barry said, having the confidence this time to place a hand on Leonard's shoulder. "Like I said, I'm sure you'll remember in no time, I just need to keep an eye on you for tonight, since it was a head wound. You know, keep you awake a few hours before I let you rest, to make sure nothing's worse than it looks. We can stay here. It's a lab—S.T.A.R. Labs, obviously," he glanced down at his sweatshirt with a sheepish smile, "but there's a kitchen and sort of break room area with a huge sofa and extra cot for whenever Cisco or…or any of the people who work here might need to stay late and spend the night." He pulled back. "You should eat something. I know I'm starving. I'll get you settled on the sofa, it'll be comfier than this bed, trust me, and we can eat, keep you awake and—"

"Barry?" Leonard grinned fondly at him.

"Yeah?"

"You're rambling again."

And as painful as it was—the physical pain, the fear of not really knowing himself or remembering even things he knew should matter to him—Barry's matching smile and the way their eyes lingered with companionable silence dulled some of the bad. It felt new, being companionable, and Leonard realized that's because it was, not because he couldn't remember, but because they were normally enemies.

The flush returned to Barry's cheeks when, after several moments more, Leonard didn't look away. "Let me just…I'll just…you relax and I'll get things settled in the other room, okay?"

Leonard watched in unbridled awe the way the blur of Barry moved around the lab. Sometimes, he wouldn't see him at all, other times he wondered if Barry was going a little slower on purpose so he could show off the streaks left in his wake. Most of the time, he'd just seem to appear somewhere, disappear, and reappear somewhere else. The walls were mostly glass, so Leonard could see quite a bit even from his lounged position.

When Barry next stopped in front of him, Leonard couldn't keep his admiration in any longer. "You're fantastic. All of it. It's amazing how you move like that."

The flush in Barry's cheeks deepened. "Uh…thanks, Snart." He moved to rub the back of his head as he often did but stopped this time. "I mean, Leonard. I should call you Leonard."

"Len," Len said without thinking.

The admittance surprised them both, but it made Len smile at how something natural had found its way to the surface, even if no other memories were there.

"I think I go by Len," he said.

A laugh left Barry, filled with relief, probably because the poor kid had been blaming himself for this, even though the story he'd told certainly seemed to suggest that Len had caused it all himself. But even though he felt better now when he thought of himself as 'Len' instead of 'Leonard', and it soothed him to think he probably would remember his sister in time, he wasn't sure he wanted to remember anything else.

Not if forgetting was the reason he was able to see Barry's face light up like this.

"Okay," Barry said, scratching his neck shyly. "Len."

TBC...