Barry entered as casually as he could, so it wouldn't be obvious that he had actually been standing around the corner all this time, and Joe and Len immediately turned to him, their conversation halted. They'd said everything that needed to be said, as far as Barry was concerned, and Len deserved the rescue.
Joe offered him a strained smile, his brows tight with surprise. "I thought you weren't up for coming to the labs this morning, Barry."
Barry fought to keep from glancing too obviously at Len, but the heat of the other man's eyes on him was intense. "A couple birdies on my shoulder changed my mind. Can we have some time alone?"
The tension in Joe's shoulders didn't waver, remaining bundled, cautious, but he nodded anyway and passed a final hard glance at Len before heading away from the hospital bed toward Barry. He patted Barry's shoulder twice before he moved on. "I think I'll check in on the conversation happening in the lounge," he said, and swiftly departed.
Barry followed Joe with his eyes if only to buy himself a few more seconds, then turned to Len and felt a rush of anxious spikes shoot up his arms and the sides of neck. Meeting those cool blue eyes was so different now. Len didn't look at him in challenge, but the disarming sweetness wasn't quite there either. He looked resolved, collected. It was unnerving and difficult to read.
As Barry approached the hospital bed, he caught sight of more of Len's face, having initially been able to see only his right side fully, but now he saw the left as well and the darkly colored bruising along his jawline. The angry shades of purple and green and pink made Barry cringe.
Len instinctually reached a hand to it upon noticing Barry's stare. He hissed when he made contact, and pulled his hand away again, causing Barry to avert his eyes in shame over being the cause of it. But drifting his eyes down Len's body led him to the withered leg.
"I told you it was a bad neighborhood," Len said with a forced lightness to his tone, more a joke than accusation, but it came out flat, and he frowned when Barry looked up again to meet his eyes. "No one's fault but mine, Barry."
"I think that part was all me," Barry said, gesturing toward the impact his speeding punch had caused.
"I deserved it."
"Not at that speed." Barry sighed. It was different fighting metas, but Len was just a man. A dangerous, highly intelligent man with a high tech cold gun invented by possibly one of the smartest men on the planet, but still—a normal human. "The punch in general, though…yeah, you deserved that." Barry quirked his lips a little to show he didn't mean that with complete animosity. This whole situation felt tense enough.
Len smiled, and there, for a moment, was the man Barry had met that first day when he brought an unconscious Captain Cold to S.T.A.R. Labs, someone who didn't want to be any trouble, or play the part of the villain, or hurt Barry in any way. Barry had known that man was a part of Len somewhere.
"I was happy to hear you were able to keep Mick and Lisa in check going after those kids," Len said when the silence began to stretch thick around them. "The leader, Chalo, he could be dangerous, but the others didn't know what they were getting themselves into."
"Yeah, I got that impression," Barry said, debating if he should take the stool behind him but unsure whether or not he could stay still if he sat down. He had trouble staying still in most positions. "I told them I'd bring you all in to the police if they crossed the line. Of course I was sort of a bad example after that kid froze you." He rubbed his neck nervously—shit, he always did that. He pulled his hand down again and eyed the purple along Len's jaw to ground himself. "I almost took his head off. He's probably sporting a matching bruise to yours."
"Really?" Len looked a little amazed, maybe even flattered. Then his expression shifted to something closer to his Cold persona as he smirked. "He'll turn it to his advantage, I'm sure. Took a punch from The Flash and lived to tell about it, after getting one over on Captain Cold and icing him with his own gun. He'll give his cellmates chills with that story."
Barry almost laughed, but managed to control his reaction into a reluctant smile and eye-roll instead. This part of Captain Cold he had never minded, the theatrical showman who just wanted to have a good time with his craft. It was the rest that ruined it, that made Barry's blood curdle when innocent people, or the lives of even the worst of men were at risk, and Len just laughed it off and kept the game going.
Any semblance of the smile Barry had been sharing with Len fell away, as he thought of all of the reasons he'd hated this man before—before either 1st National, when Barry had seen Cold hurt and kill people, put innocents at risk, sneer and scoff and so easily betray him, and even threaten people Barry cares about.
"I'm a criminal and a liar and I hurt people and I rob them."
"So tell me, Barry," Len said, his own smile dwindling as he recaptured Barry's attention, "how long were you listening in before you decided to enter the room?"
Crap. So much for playing it cool. And urg, did Barry really just think that? Yet somehow, even though Len looked like he was waiting for the proverbial axe to drop, the question helped the lingering tension shrug out of Barry's shoulders. It broke the ice a bit better anyway, and damn it, Barry had to try adamantly not to smirk.
"Of course you knew," he said.
"Well, deception tends to come easily for me," Len smiled sourly. He shifted uncomfortably in the small bed, drawing Barry's attention to his body.
He looked so frail lying there, even if all that was connected to him now was one IV for pain meds. But his paler complexion, the awful bruising, the S.T.A.R. Labs sweats with one leg rolled up to keep the worst of his wounds on view for all to see, and even his bare feet filled Barry with the unquenchable desire to help and heal. He hadn't thought about socks yesterday when he pulled the wet ones from Len's feet.
"You heard everything, so tell me…what more can I do?" Len asked.
Barry looked back into his eyes and swallowed the lump rising in his throat when he saw the grief there, raw and unmasked.
"I'm honestly asking, Barry. What do you need from me?"
That was all Barry had been asking himself since he first flashed to the labs—what would it take to get past this? To forgive Len? He hated that even thinking about it meant he had to recall what had crushed him the most before today.
Being used. Being left. The note. Seeing that damn smug salute on the camera footage. Then seeing Len in person and having him pick apart every good thing Barry had thought might exist between them, equating it to nothing more than a cruel game…a game that reminded him too closely of what he'd gone through with Wells. Made to suffer because it was fun, and he was nothing but a fool who was only too easy to manipulate.
"There's only one thing I need to know, and it's the same thing I asked you in the warehouse," Barry said evenly, meeting Len's gaze head on, his arms at his sides and his body still. "Why?"
Len looked startled. "Barry…it wasn't a trick—"
"I know. So why? Why break me down like that? Why do the worst possible things, say the worst…possible things?" He kept his voice from cracking but couldn't prevent the flood of moisture from filling his eyes. He blinked the all too ready tears back.
Len shifted again and his right hand twitched at his side, but he kept it on the bed. "For the exact reason you said, kid—to break you. Because if you were broken, then it must have been an illusion, just a temporary…setback…that I could put behind me as nothing more than a fool's dream."
A tear slipped down Barry's cheek, but he didn't care, not when it looked like Len's eyes were growing damp too. "Was that all it was?" he asked.
Len took a breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he wouldn't look at Barry. "Even before I had the name, I was Cold a lot longer than I was Len. Most my life, kid. You make it easy to remember when I was younger and wanted to be something more than my father. And you make it difficult to believe it's too late to find some of that again. But I…" Len wiped at his eyes, actually wiped at his eyes, and Barry was brought back to how many times he'd seen the man in tears when he was still scared, and desperate, and trying to find himself when he didn't remember who he was.
Barry wanted to reach for him, but he thought if he did, the whole picture would shatter.
"I'm going to screw this up…" Len said, staring down at his wounded leg, arms crossed tightly over his chest now like armor. "Someday…I will. It's an addiction I don't know if you can fix by pointing me at criminals and meta humans, Barry. You've never been anyone other than a good man trying to do the right thing, you don't…know…"
He took a deep, shuddery breath and looked at Barry, and the sudden connection, seeing Len's icy blue eyes pooling with tears tore into Barry as much as the man's cruel words ever had.
"I don't have a lot faith in myself, kid. I told you that before. But I want to try. Because I liked that other me, even though it scared me like I can't even remember last feeling.
"So why did I take it so far in the warehouse, say and do the worst things I could imagine? Because even fully myself again, I couldn't believe in a future where I was anything other than the villain. And at least I couldn't be let down by that if I purged the idea from my mind, purged you… But I...I couldn't do it.
"You were turning away, walking away from me, and I just wanted to pull you back. Instead you were gone, and I…collapsed to the floor." He pulled on the most miserable, heart-wrenching smile, and a few tears streaked down his face more liberal than Barry's. "But then it is always a tough trick to keep up with you, Scarlet."
Barry surged forward before he could stop himself. He took Len's face in his hands, and more tears streamed down his cheeks as he leaned closer. He was gentle with the hand so near to Len's bruises, but he had never felt a more overwhelming urge to kiss someone in his entire life. He'd bared his soul to others before, but he'd never had someone bare theirs back to him.
He pressed his lips to Len's firm but chaste, just wanting to feel the other's mouth against his, however damp with tears and surprised into inaction. He knew kissing Len now was the wrong call, knew it wasn't the right moment, but god, he just wanted to pull the man against him, hold him like he had those nights in the labs after a nightmare, and tell him that everything would be okay.
Only as Barry pulled away did Len reach for him in kind, head tilting up as if to follow him, but then settling back when the moment ended.
Barry pulled up with a huffed half laugh, half sigh, his hands sliding from Len's face to his neck and shoulders, their eyes both swimming as they stared at each other. "I…I didn't mean to do that," Barry said, but that didn't mean he didn't want to do it again.
Len looked like he was about to implode into a million tiny pieces, so Barry reached back up to his face again, this time the unmarred right side only, and pulled Len toward him as he once again leaned down.
"Barry." Len grabbed his wrist, resisted being lifted, being kissed a second time. When their eyes met, wet and wanting, there was indecision in his gaze. He gestured with his chin beyond Barry's back.
Right. The others. Barry looked, and at least they hadn't actually been walked in on, but it still wasn't the time or place for this, he just hadn't been able to stop himself.
He looked back at Len and smiled before pulling away and wiping the tears from his face. "Sorry. I guess...you said everything I needed to hear. I just wish you hadn't gotten so hurt before that happened."
"Me too," Len said, his eyes already looking clearer as he rubbed his own tears away. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?" he halfway grimaced.
"Captain Cold crying?" Barry laughed, relieved to have the tension broken. "Nope. Sorry. Now there's proof you're human and not nearly as frigid as people think." Really, Barry couldn't help himself.
Len chuckled with him and shook his head, but there was sorrow hiding in the corners of his expression that Barry wished he could banish, wished he understood. "Listen, kid...there are things about these past few days that I regret, some that I don't..." the distress won out as his expression fractured, "and some things…that are just a bad idea."
The floor dropped out from under Barry before he could catch himself. "Which...which things are which?" he asked reluctantly.
Len sighed.
And all the tension surged up again, leaving Barry feeling sick. He shouldn't have assumed; what was wrong with him? This was about so much more than some brief romance. Len was trying to become a whole new person. Barry had no reason to believe that their night together had been anything but needed comfort, the angry kiss when they fought just a fresh way to wound him, and everything else far simpler than... Than what? He didn't want to think it.
But this he'd been through before, so he pulled on a smile with the ease he'd had so much practice with, with Iris. Len's sad, sympathetic look was an awful reflection of what Barry had seen too often from his best friend, but he could handle it again. He could. It had only been a few days. Just a few days. If Len didn't want him that way, it was, well…that was okay, wasn't it? Barry couldn't force him to love him.
Fuck—why'd he have to go and think it? He was being selfish. Just because they could be friends, didn't mean there was anything else there to flourish. He'd just wanted…and…and he thought…
"Barry." Len reached for him, close enough to grab him by the elbow—he hadn't even realized he had started to pull away. "Stop, please, I'm…I'm saying all the wrong things again, I just mean…it's not a good idea now. It isn't that I didn't…that I don't want…" He sighed again, but his face was three shades of conflicted and fumbling, and Barry knew exactly how that felt.
He took a breath of his own, tried to clear his head and calm his thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself again. He was just so used to that feeling of rejection.
"I'm sorry," Barry said, reaching up to take Len's hand and dropping it down between them as he held it.
"Don't be. I hate that expression," Len said, looking up at him with fondness despite a slight grimace. "You threw it at me almost 24/7 when I stayed here before, like you were always sorry, always misstepping and thought you owed me."
"Oh really? And here I thought that was the expression you kept throwing at me," Barry said with a light chuckle. He relaxed a bit as he rubbed a thumb across Len's knuckles.
"I guess we're both hopeless then," Len said.
"No," Barry shook his head, "how about hopeful…and we can see where that takes us?"
Len nodded, seemingly satisfied with that, and while Barry really wanted to kiss him again and sink back into the wonderful possibilities that had fluttered in his chest, and how good things had been and could be again, he knew Len was right to hold him back. There was still so much to rebuild and get through before real trust was earned. But what could Barry say; he'd never been a patient man.
Finally, he felt like he could take the stool, and as he sat, he let Len reclaim his hand rather than hold onto it. "So what are you going to do now?" Barry asked. He'd been a little afraid to ask, but felt more confident now in how Len would respond.
"Work with Cisco and Caitlin to make sure this isn't permanent," Len gestured at his leg, "find out whatever they're planning against us in that room over there," he nodded to the lounge, "and eventually…go home, once I'm given a clean bill of health."
"Oh." Of course Barry knew Len staying here wouldn't be permanent even now that he was planning to stay a few days longer to recover, but it still left him with a twinge of loss to imagine Len leaving, like it would be only too easy to fade back to how things had been before if they were separated.
"But maybe…"
"Maybe?" Barry hadn't realized he'd looked down like some dejected child until he looked up again and caught Len's hopeful—hopeful—smile.
"Maybe we can help each other out, kid. A lot more of my enemies are going to feel all high and mighty having seen me beaten, figure they can try and take me out if it was so easy for a bunch of kids. I'll have a lot of heat headed my way. Could be a good excuse for you to put away a few more bad guys. The non-meta variety to start, but I'm sure that'll change over time."
Barry sat up straighter. "You mean…you want to work together?"
"Probationary of course." Len held up a hand. "I'm sure you'll want to keep a close eye on me. I'll have to talk to the others about this though. It's not really the way we're…built. You may need to reprogram more than our guns, I mean, and expect quite a bit of straying from the rules. But if Mick and Lisa are against it…"
"Actually…" came a voice from the other end of the room, "that's exactly what we were thinking."
Barry turned to see Lisa at the forefront as she and the others entered from the lounge. Even Joe stood off to the side, looking vaguely troubled but unwilling to interrupt.
"Lisa…what are you up to?" Len asked with a familiar tone of suspicion.
Lisa grinned and planted a hand on her hip. "Working on sweetening the deal, Lenny. Of course we could stand to add a few clauses where—"
"We are not giving you free reign to commit heists even if they are targets we don't like," Cisco grumbled, though he looked more entertained than upset by this and, as always, captivated by the female Snart sibling.
"Well," Lisa shrugged, while Mick huffed and rolled his eyes, Ronnie and Caitlin shared an amused look, and Joe eyed them all like he really couldn't believe this was happening, "we're still working out the kinks, obviously, but overall…I think we have the makings of a beautiful friendship."
Three weeks later, they had all but handed every non-meta threat to Len's life over to Detective West and Thawne wrapped up in a big bow. Everyone who'd only just missed their chance to storm the warehouse Len had been held captive in, but that hadn't been caught during CCPD's initial raid, if they'd made a single move to go after Len in the passing weeks, had been stopped, caught, and incarcerated.
Which left only one remaining problem—Mendoza Senior, who as it turned out, was not pleased to be rid of his eldest son, despite the man's incompetence with running the business. Len apologizing for shooting Mendoza Junior in the head, and expressing that he'd had a change of heart since then about shooting first and asking questions later, probably wouldn't do much to slow the shootout currently happening around him.
Of course Len had expressed as plainly as he could to Barry that he couldn't promise he would never kill again. If someone had sights on Lisa, or Mick, or…and Len didn't actually say this part out loud…any of Team Flash, Barry especially, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going all out to protect them.
"We don't all have the benefit of super speed to get out of a jam when an enemy's about to shoot someone we love," he'd said, and hoped Barry didn't immediately realize he meant him and that laser shooting asshole Len had shot to protect Barry back during the Ferris Air mission.
Barry had frowned and crossed his arms, staring Len down, but when Len didn't budge, he'd sighed and said, "Fine. I guess I'll take what I can get. But I'm still asking you to try."
Which Len thought he had done a valiant job of over the past few weeks. He'd spent nearly all of the first week laid up in S.T.A.R. Labs before Caitlin gave him the okay to return home, which was not to the last safe house but to one of Len's nicer apartments, because he deserved a little comfort for a while, even if it was a little too high profile to remain as under the radar as some of his more hidden hideouts. But then being bait was part of the plan. And oh how many wayward villains came calling, assuming Captain Cold was defenseless.
Not only was The Flash a quick call and a few seconds away at all times, but Lisa and Mick took shifts being with him while he was still somewhat hobbled. Not killing anyone was always a chore, but they managed, and cleaned house one inept baddie at a time.
Once there wasn't even any fight, because Ronnie, Professor Stein, and Caitlin had all stopped over—it still unnerved Len somewhat for Team Flash to know all of his safe houses, but he figured he could give up the locations to a few until the feeling of unease subsided—hoping to discuss with Mick ways he and Firestorm could work together, perhaps a way to redirect Mick's fire if it got out of hand, for example.
Mick was more than eager to set up times to go to S.T.A.R. Labs and practice such scenarios where things could be more safely contained…when they'd been interrupted by some rather pathetic looking criminals trying to break in, only to encounter Heat Wave and a pair of men that when they became one could literally set themselves on fire. The would-be hitmen had dropped their guns and surrendered immediately.
Len went to S.T.A.R. Labs daily for physical therapy with Caitlin. She seemed impressed with how quickly he bounced back, and by the end of week two, declared him fit to walk on his own with only a slightly annoying limp. By the end of week three, the limp was hardly noticeable, and the bruising along his jaw had left only a few tiny speckles of nearly healed yellow.
Which was when Len had insisted that he help take Mendoza down. The man had sent men after him, but never came himself, and finally called Len out personally after another failed attempt to kill him asking that they meet and discuss a truce.
Len knew it was a trap. No one still free on the streets was aware that the Rogues were in cahoots with The Flash and Firestorm, but even if Mendoza assumed they were still amiable to nefarious business practices, there was no way he'd had a change of heart.
So when Len told Barry that he had every intention of meeting Mendoza's challenge and taking the guy down, everyone had agreed on a plan to make sure the night ended in arrests rather than bloodshed.
Helping plan ways to guard his apartment and take down the crooks that were after him? That was easy. Len happily detailed for Cisco hot spots around the city Barry could patrol. Physical therapy with Caitlin was actually quite pleasant, and often included trauma counseling that she seemed to think she was slipping in unbeknownst to him. He didn't mind. It helped more than he'd say. Even Mick and Lisa seemed...happier, rarely tempted by their personal vices as of late.
What didn't come easily was how to act around Barry. Len hadn't wanted to pull away when Barry tried to kiss him a second time that day. The first kiss had been so sweet, such a welcome press of lips. Len had wanted nothing more than to give in and accept what Barry offered, but he knew he hadn't earned that yet.
The problem was...he still didn't think he had, and wasn't sure if he ever would. Barry was waiting on him, but Len never did more than risk one of his coveted glances down Barry's body, the way the kid moved, the power pulsing beneath his skin.
Barry would flirt so subtly, testing the waters, trying to get close to Len any time they were near each other, but every time Len held back. Things were good. Things were moving in the right direction. He didn't want to ruin that. Even Detective West offered him begrudging nods of approval when they crossed paths. Barry deserved so much better than what Len could offer. Though those downturned eyebrows would be the death of him with the way they turned to him in longing.
Something near to an explosion struck the pillar Len dove behind, and he forced himself to focus on the present, and how finally something felt familiar in a good way, like all the things he loved about his old life.
It was so freeing being back in his parka and goggles, the cold gun at his side. He had worried he'd start to shake or feel his stomach flip to work with the gun again, and had made a point to practice with it each day like its own type of physical therapy. With his head wound long healed and the stitches dissolved, the goggles were no problem, the parka a comfortable fit, and it seemed that as long as he had more direction with where and who he trained his cold gun on, using it filled him with the same thrill he'd loved since he first stole the weapon from Cisco.
The call had been to meet at one of Mendoza's other gun trafficking locations, a building even larger than the one Mick had torched, and in a much seedier part of town, with only empty warehouses surrounding it. But Mendoza hadn't anticipated the extra muscle Len brought along—Captain Cold, Golden Glider, and Heat Wave were enough, but with The Flash and Firestorm accompanying them they were a true force.
Unfortunately, Len and the others hadn't anticipated just how many men Mendoza would bring either, or that they would all be sporting makeshift copies of Len's gun.
Oh, they were nothing like what Cisco had built. Several of them froze over on the first attempt at use. But the ones that worked shot out liquid nitrogen like some awful parody to teach Len a lesson for having frozen Mendoza Junior's leg before he killed him.
Len almost lamented that Cisco had insisted on coms for all of them, because several voices were shouting in his ear to steer clear of the streams of liquid nitrogen. Len almost growled back, ya think? It was a far cry different from what his own cold gun fired, and a lot more permanent. It made him snarl with rage that Mendoza had thought to mock him this way.
It eased Len's temper, however, every time he heard Barry's voice telling him to just 'stay cool', especially since the first time he'd said it, he groaned afterwards, clearly having walked into the pun unintentionally. Len was starting to notice that Barry did that a lot, though it was much more adorable when he did it on purpose.
Len shook his head, fighting to keep his thoughts clear. The metal pillar he'd ducked behind likely couldn't take too many more shots from those nitrogen guns before it would crumble and seriously start to affect the integrity of the building's support system. Len had a general idea of where the others were from the coms, but there were too many voices, too much going on, and still too many opponents to face easily.
"Barry, you cannot get hit with those guns," Caitlin said clearly in Len's ear. "None of you can. That isn't something we can reverse."
"I get that," Barry said, "but we can't keep dodging. There are too many of them for me to flash through and disarm without someone getting in a lucky shot. I need them distracted."
"We should just fry them," Mick muttered. "Firestorm and I could have these jokers toast in minutes."
"Think bigger, Mick," Ronnie chimed in. "We have to concentrate on using the heat to deflect any lucky shots that get through." At least the guy was mostly calm and collected to counter Mick…so not being that way. Ronnie was even more focused with Professor Stein in his head, who Mick also listened to whenever he was around physically despite always referring to him as 'Mr. Rory'.
"Yeah, well I'm gonna continue making as many arms all bright and shiny as I can while you idiots figure something out," Lisa called, and the sound of her gold gun whirred in the background as her latest victim shrieked loud enough to be heard over more than just their coms.
Len held his cold gun close, his hood padding his head as he leaned back against the pillar, his gloves allowing only the right amount of chill to shoot up his arms, and his sight through the goggles a beautiful shade of blue. "Everyone focus on the center portion of the room," he said calmly, softer than most of them, because he didn't need any nearby thugs overhearing him. "They're all facing outward looking for where each of us is hiding, so we need to get them facing inward instead to keep them distracted enough for each of us to take out who we can while Flash disarms the rest."
"How are you going to get them facing inward?" Barry demanded impatiently.
Len grinned to himself. "Just be ready to get me out of harm's way, Scarlet."
"Wait, what?"
"Mendoza! Are we going to dance all night," Len called as he readied himself and whirled around the side of the pillar he'd been hiding behind, "or are you starting to get cold feet?"
TBC...