#coldflash2017a

In fairness, it wasn’t exactly Joe West’s police force anymore.

“Hey, Iris,” Barry says, sliding into the seat next to her. “You know what happened?”

“Nope,” she says, buzzing with energy. “They say it’s related to the Big Five.”

Barry’s eyebrows shoot up. “JLA?” he asks. “In our town?”

“Central’s a perfectly good town, Barry,” Iris sniffs. “We may not have a major superhero of our own, but we’re a presence.”

“But why are we involved, then?” Barry asks. “Don’t the capes usually prefer not to work with the local authorities?” He frowns. “Except for Superman. And even then, it’s on his terms.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie says, walking in with – thank god – cups of coffee for everyone. “From what I hear, we have a Bat.”

“In Central?” Iris exclaims.

“Central’s a perfectly good town, Iris,” Barry reminds her.

“Shut up. We never get a Bat.”

“And more to the point, none of the Bats are exactly police-friendly,” Barry says.

“He needs the manpower,” Captain Singh says, walking through the door. “Anyone who wants to go home because they don’t feel like being recruited into an unlicensed vigilante with too much money’s plan which he won’t share with us in full, you should feel free – sit down, Allen, I was being sarcastic – but I have been assured that this will save the world from something terrible beyond the ken of us mere mortals.”

Barry tries to hide a smile. Like most honest policemen, Singh doesn’t always appreciate interference from the capes.

“Terrible beyond our ken,” Eddie says dryly, not even bothering to hide his own smile. “That doesn’t quite sound like Central, I must admit. Have they finally decided to go up against our supervillains?”

“The Rogues, as ever, remain at large,” Singh replies. “Consider them armed and dangerous.”

This time, no one bothers hiding their laughter.

Some five years ago, when the superhero craze had really been getting into high gear, several supervillains, several super-strength types and one super-intellectual, from other cities had noticed Central’s lack of a superhero and had decided that it made Central the perfect base from which to plan and launch their attacks on their home cities.

That was when the Rogues had formed, a loose association of thieves and criminals with the sort of tech that would make them supervillains in another city, and they’d told the newcomers to butt out of their city.

They’d made their point emphatically.

City Hall had howled in panic about the idea of having a homegrown supervillain threat, but the Rogues were remarkably good about minimizing collateral damage. Their heists were mostly aimed at the rich corporations, too, none of which headquartered in Central anyway, so the only people really being hurt were the politicians that were being funded by them.

The Rogues also imposed a pretty strict ‘no killing cops’ rule, which they enforced throughout Central. In return, the CCPD made only token efforts to catch them when they weren’t actively engaged in a heist.

Barry was about 70% sure that the guy who haggled with the fresh fish people at the farmer’s market every Saturday was Mick Rory – it was a little hard to tell, given that his usual Rogues suit involved goggles to protect him from his heat gun – but he wasn’t going to check, either.

“Anyway, boys,” Singh says, raising his hands for silence. “And girls, of course. We’re canvassing the area. Batman – and yes, the main one, not one of the promoted Robins, I know, I know, I’m surprised too – said to look for anything unusual.”

“Define unusual,” Iris says, slouching back in her seat. “Man dressed as a giant bat running around, that’s pretty unusual.”

“He said we’d know it when we saw it,” Singh replies, sounding equally unenthused. No one liked the high-handed way the superheroes treated the police, like they were side characters in a penny-novel instead of hard-working men and women trying to serve a city in which the crime had only gotten worse and worse as the years went on.

“So, porn,” Barry says.

Everyone bursts out laughing.

Singh is trying to keep order, but Barry sees the smirk tugging on his lips. “Enough, enough. If the Bat’s come personally, it’s probably something really unusual. Which we’ll know when we see.” He pauses, considering. “Someone should probably survey the sewers, but avoid the GZ. While that might fit Batman’s criteria, it’s not really unusual…anymore.”

Grodd’s lair was something of an open secret in Central.

People were slowly adjusting.

“You’ve each been assigned a district to survey – keep your radio and back-up close by. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here,” Singh says. He’s managed to eliminate most, but not all of the resentment in his voice.

“No problem,” Iris says. “You know how these things go – we do all the legwork, and in the end, the Bat does the grand finale. We’ll all be back in time for dinner.”

“Knock on wood,” Barry says, and grins at his oldest friend.

“I’m telling you,” she says. “Piece of cake.”

--

Barry coughs, his eyes tearing up from the dust. He crawls forward, too dizzy to get up. His face feels slippery.

He might be bleeding. Probably a head wound. Those bled like crazy; he’s more worried about the untreated concussion he probably has.

The box…thing…is still glowing, even after that explosion.

The Bat is gasping for air. There’s something on his chest.

It’s glowing, too.

Barry pulls himself forward. One of his legs isn’t working. “Bat –” he hacks another cough.

Eddie’s slumped over in the corner; he can see that from where he is. He doesn’t know where the others he’d called in for back-up are.

He hopes they’re still alive.

“Batman,” he rasps. “Bat…”

The Bat’s head slowly turns and his eyes fix on Barry. His mask is broken in three places, but there’s so much blood, it’s not like Barry can see anything.

He crooks his fingers.

Barry’s not sure if that was intentional, but he pulls himself forward anyway.

It’s hard.

It’s much harder than it ought to be; Barry’s legs have stopped working and his left arm is going numb and it feels like there’s an anvil tied to his chest.

But damnit, Barry was born stubborn and he grew up stubborn and he’s not going to let this weird magic bullshit stop him.

He gets within a foot of Batman before suddenly Batman’s hand shoots out, gauntleted fist seizing Barry’s collar and pulling him in, right up to Batman’s face.

“Get – plan,” Batman rasps, his voice even thicker and lower than usual. He’s barely understandable.

“What plan?” Barry asks, blinking.

“Genius,” Batman hisses. “Need – genius. Don’t–”

“Don’t?”

“Don’t trust,” Batman gasps, his chest rattling in an unhealthy way. “JLA.”

Barry’s eyes go wide. “Wait,” he says, “wait, you –”

He feels Batman’s hand curl around his own, pushing a scrap of paper into his fist.

“But –” Barry starts helplessly.

“Go!”

And he throws Barry away from him with surprising strength, less than a second before the box explodes a second time.

Everything goes fuzzy for a while after that.

In the end, they keep Barry in the hospital for about 48 hours before letting him out.

He desperately wants to go home, but he goes down to the station, instead.

“Barry,” Iris shouts, jumping over a desk to grab him into an embrace. Eddie rushes forward from behind him to stabilize him. He got to go home with Iris after a brief consultation with the EMTs.

“How are you?” Eddie asks.

“I’m okay,” Barry says. “They were really just keeping me to make sure I wasn’t traumatized or something.” He tries to smile. It doesn’t feel right on his face.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Iris says. “They shouldn’t have released you.”

“I’m not actually hurt, Iris.”

“You nearly got killed,” Iris says. “You watched a cape get killed.”

“Batman’s not dead,” Barry says. He hesitates. “Unless you’ve heard something?”

“No,” Iris says, disgusted. “The capes flew him away, and that’s the last we’ve heard – apparently capes get treated at the fancy-smancy JLA HQ.”

Barry shrugs, but privately he agrees. The least they could’ve done would be drop him off at the hospital, but they’d been concerned with getting the Bat home. Or to the JLA HQ. Whatever.

Capes were kind of shitty to people they assumed were collateral damage.

But they were heroes.

At least –

Barry’d always thought they were.

Don’t trust the JLA.

“Iris,” Barry says. “Can I talk to you?”

He trusts Iris more than anything. They practically grew up together, joined at the hip. She was his first crush, nursed for far too long, before his dad gave him a talk about expectations and friendship and encouraged him to make his move, resulting in her shutting him down and him moving on.

Iris he trusts with anything.

“Sure,” she says. She kisses Eddie lightly on the cheek – they’re engaged now, still recently enough for it to be exciting – and heads after Barry.

He goes to the roof where the smokers go because there are no cameras there.

“What’s up, partner?” she asks.

Barry swallows. “I need to tell you something,” he says. “And I know you’re busy with your wedding plans and all that, so if you don’t want to be bothered –”

“Nah, we’re not actually planning on getting married for at least a year,” Iris says dismissively. “Need to give both our families time to freak out first. Also, you’re my partner and I’ve got your back. Now spill it.”

Barry tells her.

Tells her what happened in that abandoned warehouse.

Tells her what happened to the Bat.

What happened to Barry.

What the Bat said to him, in a hushed whisper, like he thought someone would overhear.

And, more than that, Barry shows her what it was that he got from the Bat.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she says, staring at the incomprehensible squiggles.

“That’s what I thought,” Barry says. He runs his fingers through his hair. “The Bat said I needed to give it to a genius.”

“Do we even know any geniuses? If we give it to any of the eggheads in the department, they’ll probably alert the JLA. Not even on purpose; I would bet money that the JLA has spying programs of all sorts in all the police databases, even though they’ve never admitted it.”

“I don’t disagree,” Barry says. “So I’ve been thinking.”

He pauses. Licks his lips.

“Well?” she says.

“You’re not going to like it,” he warns her.

Iris crosses her arms. “Tell me.”

He tells her.

“No! Absolutely not!” she shouts.

“Shhhh!” Barry hisses, waving his hands. “And it’s not like I have a better alternative, okay?!”

“You have –”

She hesitates.

“Wells turned out to be evil, remember?” Barry reminds her. “He was deliberately sabotaging his own Particle Accelerator in an attempt to make this city a hotbed of metahumans; we wouldn’t have found out about it if it wasn’t for Hartley Rathaway turning evidence.”

“And you believing him,” Iris reminds him.

Barry shrugs. That had been his biggest collar so far, the one that made him feel like he deserved the title of detective instead of just wearing it.

“But still,” Iris says, “Snart?”

“He is undeniably a genius,” Barry says.

“So is – Tina McGee!”

Barry looks at her.

“Cisco Ramon?”

“Do you think either of them is the type of genius that Batman meant?”

“…no,” she concedes. “But how are you going to even find Snart? The Rogues don’t just sit around wherever you can find them – and even if you do find him, how in the world will you convince him to work with you? You’re a cop! Snart hates cops! Everybody knows that.”

“First,” Barry says, “let me find him. Then I’ll worry about convincing him.”

“But how will you find him?”

Barry smiles a little crookedly. “I think I’m going to go get some fish. You want me to pick you up something from the farmer's market while I'm there?”

"I want you to still be alive come nightfall, that's what I want," Iris grumbles.

--

“You’d better not fuck this up, kid,” Rory warns him gruffly. “I’m only doing this ‘cause you seem sincere, but if you use this against us...” He trails off warningly.

Barry nods, swallowing. “I won’t. I promise.”

They reach the bar at the end of the street.

Saints & Sinners.

“Is this the place?”

“Yeah,” Rory says. “We’re just about always here. C’mon.”

He leads the way inside.

The inside of the bar is – well. It’s like any other dive bar.

If any other dive bar had distinctly identifiable Rogues hanging out in the bar stools, in the booths, playing pool, watching TV.

And one of the ones sitting at the bar, watching a game of hockey, is the single most beautiful man Barry’s ever seen, wearing a instantly recognizable blue parka and a heavy gun strapped onto his thigh.

Rory doesn’t say anything, but it’s less than a moment before Snart is turning to regard them.

A faint smirk curls his lips.

“Mick,” he drawls, the voice that put Central City’s accent on the map. Leader of the Rogues, the man who mastered absolute zero, he who was widely recognized as the finest thief in the entire country, courted by other supervillains, and member of at least three different Leagues, Legions, and Societies.

Defender of Central City.

“What did you bring us?” Snart asks.

“A cop,” Rory says, mincing no words. “Name of Barry Allen. He’s got something to ask of you.”

“I see,” Snart says. His eyes show no discernible emotion as he scans Barry from head to toes and back. “Well then, Allen. I suggest you start talking.”

Barry swallows again, gathers his courage –

(Warning for some kind of self-destructive behaviour and a bit of a strange, slightly dysfunctional dynamic between Len and Barry? They love each other, but like... they’re sort of evil, makes sense that they’re a little bit rough with each other from time to time.)

Barry shot through the city like a bullet from a gun, his head lowered to streamline his body as effectively as possible. The wind whistled around him as he cut through the turbulence, weaving in and out of cars, shooting up and over buildings, whizzing round corners. All the while, he had to fight to keep a smile off his face.

He rocketed around another corner and crossed three blocks in three seconds flat. The perfect amount of adrenaline buzzed through his body; he was out of danger, able to enjoy the feeling without fear, but his whole body still sang with fresh energy, so much that he was practically overflowing with it. Lightning crackled as he ran, and he used the electricity to spur him onwards. His blood was singing, the chemicals racing through his bloodstream the same way he raced through the streets, filling him with excitement. The adrenaline was there at his command, making him faster, more agile, making his turns sharper and his lungs burn more fiercely as he pushed himself. Again, he had to struggle not to grin.

At times like this, he felt like he could run to the ends of the earth.

Cutting across a busy square, still milling with people in spite of the late hour, Barry blew past a couple of tourists and then headed about half a mile down the road - and then suddenly ricocheted off in the opposite direction, shooting down a deserted alleyway and cutting across a couple of back roads before he skidded to a stop at the back of an old housing estate, directly across the street from Leonard Snart.

Len had his cold gun out and pointed straight ahead, but when he spotted Barry, he lowered it. They regarded each other for a moment. Barry was still breathing hard from his run, the smell of singed rubber hanging in the air and static prickling at his arms.

“Alright, hands in the air,” he said.

Slowly, Len holstered his gun, then raised his hands to shoulder height. The barest hint of a laugh twitched at the corners of his mouth.

“You got me,” he said.

“Yep,” agreed Barry.

He moved in closer, fighting a smile of his own. At this distance, he had nothing to fear from Len’s gun. If the man was planning on shooting him, Barry could have his arm twisted behind his back the moment Len’s fingers so much as twitched towards his holster. Not that he had any qualms that Leonard was going to attempt to shoot him. Not tonight, anyway.

“So what now?”

“Depends,” said Barry. “A little birdie told me that you sent one of your...associates to steal the Kahndaq Dynasty diamond tonight. Exactly two years to the day, in fact, since the last time you tried to steal it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Got anything to say for yourself?”

The little smile playing at the corners of Len’s mouth became a full-blown smirk. “Guilty on all counts.” He took a step forwards, and his smile became mocking, as if daring Barry to act. Lowering his hands, he tilted his head. “So arrest me, officer.”

Barry blurred towards him, crossing the distance between them in less than half a heartbeat and slamming Len up against the wall of the closest house, knocking the breath out of both of them. Then he lurched forwards and kissed him, hard.

It was a rough embrace; he was too keyed up on adrenaline and excitement to be careful, even if he’d have been in that sort of mood. With his right hand, he gripped the front of Len’s parka tightly enough to tear the fabric, yanking him closer against his body. He continued to crush Len against the wall, forcing him back against the bricks so hard that it must have hurt. Len gave as good as he got, however, ripping down the cowl and tugging on Barry’s hair so that pain shot right down to the roots, making him groan. He tasted blood in his mouth; not his. Insistently, Barry kissed him harder, not giving Len any ground. A cool hand found the back of his neck, held him closer, despite the fact that there wasn’t an inch of space between their bodies anyway, and barely a centimetre between Len and the wall. Barry’s hand snuck down to the small of Len’s back and found that his jacket had ridden up, leaving a sliver of skin exposed.

They parted just as suddenly as they’d come together, tearing apart with a gasp. Barry staggered backwards, taken aback by his own ferocity. For a moment they stood staring at each other, panting...then Len started grinning; a wild, animal smile. In spite of himself, Barry grinned back, even let out a breathless laugh. Len’s mouth was bloody.

“Hello to you, too,” Len said teasingly. He turned his head and spat a few flecks of ruby onto the sidewalk. “Bit my tongue. Wasn’t expecting you to tackle me like that, you maniac.”

“Oops,” said Barry, not even pretending to be sorry.

They stood for another minute, both grinning like fools. Len licked his lips, realised that wasn’t helping in the slightest, and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing blood across his face.

Something about the sight of that made Barry’s gut tug insistently. It didn’t disturb him the way it might have, that he could find such a violent image so sensual. After all, he’d become no stranger to violence and destruction over the past few years. Swallowing, he let his tongue trace the same pathway on his own lips. He could still faintly taste Len’s blood on his tongue, cooling copper in his mouth.

“Still bleeding?”

“We can’t all have accelerated healing,” Len said. “Yes, I’m still bleeding, Scarlet.”

“Aw,” said Barry. He lowered his voice. “Guess I have to kiss it better, then.”

He moved in again, dipping his head to kiss Len once more. This time he was a little more gentle, but he was still too energised to be careful for long; within seconds the kiss had dissolved into a frantic mess, all tongues and clashing teeth and too much saliva, no finesse to it at all. Just the two of them, kissing like it was a fight, pushing eagerly against each other, all give and no take. Barry licked deeper into Len’s mouth, his gloved hands twining possessively in the fur on his hood, pulling him closer. In the dim orange glow of the streetlights, with the faraway sound of sirens drifting by on the breeze, for a moment it felt like the two of them were the only ones in the world.

Eventually, though, Barry pulled back with a sigh. “We should get moving. I’ve got do-gooders on my tail; won’t take them long to catch up. You ready to go?”

“I’m ready. Did you get the goods?”

Barry opened his left fist to reveal the gem nestling in his palm; a gleaming diamond roughly the size of a satsuma.  

A real smile broke across Len’s face, uninhibited and breathtakingly beautiful. For a moment he merely gazed upon the diamond, taking it in - then his eyes flicked upwards to look Barry straight in the face, so proud that it made Barry’s heart skip a beat.

“Happy anniversary,” he said, beaming.

“Good boy,” Len said approvingly.

Barry flushed with pleasure at the compliment, looking away. The back of his neck was suddenly very warm underneath the suit, and he ached for Len’s hand to rest there, cool against his overheated skin, a physical stamp of approval. Of possession.

Still, now was hardly the time or place for such things.

“We should go,” he said. “Won’t take ‘em long to catch up.”

“Why rush? You can outrun those idiots with your eyes shut.” Len grabbed Barry by the waist and yanked him closer, then reached out to touch his face, rubbing his thumb against Barry’s cheekbone. Closing his eyes, Barry basked in his attentions like a cat; if he could, he would’ve purred. “Besides, you’ve done so well. I think we need to talk about your reward.”

“Not here,” Barry said, but his protests sounded weak even to his own ears. “Mm. Len.” Len had started kissing his neck insistently, beginning at his jaw and moving inexorably downwards. “Lenny. Not now. They’re gonna be here any second.”

“You know how much I love it when you steal things for me, Scarlet. You’re so good at it. I’ve corrupted you... Well and truly.”

His teeth scraped at Barry’s jugular, then bit down. A spark of pain made Barry flinch, then close his eyes against the urge to just give in to it, to let Len do whatever he wanted to him in this dark street, with only stray cats and dim streetlights for company...and one of the world’s priciest diamonds clenched in his gloved fist.

That thought brought Barry back to his senses. He’d been one of the Rogues for two years now - tonight, in fact, marked exactly two years since he’d joined Len’s team and turned his back on S.T.A.R Labs for good - but he still hadn’t been able to share their casual apathy for waving around stolen goods like pocket change. Suddenly the diamond felt appallingly heavy in his hand; he was afraid he might drop it.

“Len. Come on, we have to move.”

“You worry too much,” Len said, but he obligingly took a step back and pulled Barry’s cowl back up for him, tugging it expertly into place.

Barry pulled Len close to his side in preparation to run them both back to the safe house. As an afterthought, he offered him the diamond. “Can you hang onto this? It’s a pain in the ass having to carry everything around after I’ve stolen it. I’m really gonna have to have somebody put some pockets into this suit.”

“Don’t you dare,” Len said, holding his hand out for the diamond. “I like that suit just the way it is.” Then he very deliberately groped Barry’s ass with his other hand.

“Whatever, perv, just take the damn - ”

“Hold it right there!”

They both looked up, startled.

Killer Frost stood a few feet away, in the same place Barry had originally stopped on the other side of the road. Her eyes gleamed like ice chips; her hands, outstretched at her sides, were smoking faintly, ice fog swirling around her fingers. Pale hair spilled around her shoulders. A vision in dark blue, she stared them down.

“Well if it isn’t Frosty the Snowman,” Len said lazily. “Long time, no see. You’re sure you want me to hold it right here, Doctor Snow? Because I do have my hand on the Flash’s ass at this exact moment in time.”

“Hand it over,” Caitlin said coldly.

“His ass? I don’t know if I can do that without handing you the rest of him.”

Barry stepped on Len’s foot without taking his eyes off Caitlin. Her gaze flickered from Len to Barry, her stare full of cold fury. With her eyes leached of colour as they were, the effect was somewhat intimidating.

“Give me the diamond,” ordered Caitlin.

“What diamond?” Len said, but he did at least remove his hand from Barry’s ass.

Her lip curled. “Hand it over, Barry.”

Obligingly, Barry put the diamond straight into Len’s hand. Caitlin made a small sound of outrage, and Len calmly pocketed it, slipping the gem out of sight.

“Diamond? Don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you might be suffering from a little bit of brain freeze, Frosty. I don’t see any diamond.” He held up his hands.

“See, this is why I need pockets,” Barry said. “Then I could have hidden it myself and neither of you would’ve noticed.”

Caitlin looked beseechingly at him. “Don’t,” she said, sounding for a moment like her old self - the Caitlin Snow whom Barry had first met when he woke from his coma, rather than Killer Frost.

Barry frowned. “What, you don’t like the pocket idea either? I know it plays hell with my aesthetic, but it’d just be so much more convenient - “

“Please, Barry,” Caitlin said. “Stop kidding around. This isn’t who you really are. You don’t have to do this any more - come with us. We can fix all this.”

“Jeez, you ever think about changing the record, Caitlin? It’s getting a little old. Me and the Rogues show up to steal something, you and the rest of your little team show up to stop us, fail spectacularly, and beg me to come back to S.T.A.R Labs? It’s been two years. I think maybe you should think about getting a new approach.”

“We haven’t lost faith in you, Barry,” Caitlin said, stepping forwards. The fog around her hands was starting to evaporate. “We know you’re still capable of being a good guy. The sweet guy we first met, the one who wanted to help people, and save this city - he’s still in there. He’s just been led down the wrong path. We can put you back on the right one.”

“Boring,” Len said loudly.

Caitlin shot him a venomous look. “We have you surrounded, Snart. We all care about Barry, we want to help him. The same doesn’t go for you. I’d watch yourself.”

“Surrounded?” Len said. “Ooh, scary. Care to show us some receipts, Snow? Because right now I don’t see your reinforcements.”

“Better take another look,” called a voice from the darkness. “Maybe your eyesight’s going. I hear it happens, when you start getting older.”

Cisco and Hartley stepped out of the shadows and moved to Caitlin’s side, Hartley wearing his ridiculous gloves, and Cisco decked out in full Reverb gear, goggles and all. Barry watched them with disinterest. He’d never known Hartley before he left S.T.A.R Labs, and Cisco’s powers hadn’t manifested until after Barry left, but he and the Rogues had faced off against Cisco and Hartley often enough that he didn’t find them particularly impressive any more. Only Caitlin was any real danger to him; her powers worked in a similar vein to Len’s gun, and could have done some serious damage...if she had been able to bring herself to actually try and hurt him. In spite of the name and the terrifying new aesthetic she had going on, Caitlin was still as gentle as she’d always been...most of the time. Still unwilling to move against him.

“Looks like you’re outnumbered,” Hartley said. “Where are your Rogues, Snart?”

“Barry and I are going it alone tonight. Date night. You know how it is. Dinner, a movie, steal a priceless artifact from the museum...romance isn’t dead yet. You’ve just gotta be willing to put in the effort. Still, none of you are having much luck in that department, are you? One dead fiance, one hopeless - and unreciprocated - crush on my sister, and one appalling case of verbal diarrhoea. You ever tried shutting your mouth for a second, Piper? You might find it helps your love life significantly.”

“Bite me,” Hartley snapped.

“Oh, I would - for pity’s sake if nothing else - but I’m afraid I’d catch something. For now I’ll have to pass.”

Angrily, Hartley stepped forwards to make another retort, but Caitlin shot him a warning glare. “Enough!” She looked back at Barry, her gaze softening in spite of the cold colour of her eyes. “Barry, please. I’m begging you - give this up. Do the right thing. Come with us. We can help you - come back to the lab and we’ll fix all of this. Don’t you want to be a team again? Like we were in the beginning? You and me, and Cisco, and Doctor Wells?” She held out her hand. “Come with us, Barry.”

“Right, so you can lock me in the pipeline and throw away the key? Dream on, Caitlin. I’ve told you time and time again, my place is with the Rogues. You and Cisco, you had your chance, and you ruined it. Once upon a time we were friends, but things are different now. I don’t want to come back. Team Flash is over, Caitlin. I’m done.”

“You really want to spend the rest of your life working with the Rogues? When we met, all you wanted was to help people - and now you’re stealing from them? This isn’t you, Barry. You’ve made mistakes, lost your way, but it’s not too late to change things. You’re not a bad person.”

“Well maybe you should’ve thought of that before you and Cisco built a gun specifically designed to take me out,” Barry said flatly.

Cisco made a disbelieving noise. “Oh, man, Barry, you have got to let that go.”

“Have I, Cisco? Have I?” Barry rounded on him. “If I was such a good friend to you both, if we all had such a perfect setup at the lab, why didn’t you trust me? I never gave you any reason to be suspicious of me. I was trying to save lives, to help people. We were a team! I trusted you guys; I thought you trusted me! Then I find out you built a gun just for the purpose of taking me down.

“I never did anything wrong. I never hurt anybody, or gave you any reason to suspect that I was going to turn on you. But you built it anyway, and you didn’t even tell me until after it was stolen! If Len hadn’t taken that gun and planned to use it against me, I’d never have known my own friends were plotting behind my back. But now I’m the bad guy, right? For doing exactly what you always suspected I was going to do? You never thought I was a good person. You both thought I was going to turn out to be a murderer, a killer - just like my dad.”

“That’s not fair,” Caitlin said. “We never said that, Barry. The gun was a precaution, it wasn’t - ”

“They were right to build it,” Hartley said.

“Hartley!”

“What?” he demanded. “Isn’t anybody else going to say it? The guy finds out you’ve built a gun that could potentially be used to incapacitate him - not even kill him, just slow him down! - and he immediately goes off the rails, joins forces with the first bad guy he comes across, and spends the next two years playing Bonnie and Clyde with a supervillain?” He shifted his gaze to Barry. “I’m not scared of you, Flash, and I’m not afraid to say it. Cisco and Caitlin were right not to trust you. You’re unhinged, you’re dangerous, and you’re a terrible person. If it were up to me, I’d lock you in the pipeline and never let you out.”

A poisonous silence crept between them. Barry stared coldly at Hartley, mentally calculating how easy it would be to speed over there and snap his neck. Caitlin could probably stop him, but if he took her by surprise he could do a decent amount of damage first.

He could kill Hartley. But he wouldn’t.

“Right,” he said. “I’m a terrible person. Got it.” He looked savagely at Caitlin. But just for the record - remind me how it is you got your name, Killer Frost? Because I’m pretty certain it wasn’t just because all the cuter names were taken.”

Ever since her powers had manifested, Caitlin had been pale - but at this, all remaining colour drained from her face. Barry fought the urge to give a very Len-like smirk.

“You’re right,” she said eventually. “I’m no saint, Barry. I’ve done terrible things, I’ve made mistakes. I’ve hurt people. But I lost control. I couldn’t control my powers; I couldn’t see that there was no divide between Caitlin Snow and Killer Frost. I let myself be controlled by my abilities, rather than the other way round. And...I killed people.” She lifted her chin. “But I came back from that. And I’ve been doing everything I can to change things, to atone for my mistakes. Hartley and Cisco helped me learn to control myself. Someone should do the same for you, Barry. You’re not a god, and you’re not above the law. Someone needs to keep you in check, not use you like their own personal attack dog!”

“Nobody keeps me in check,” Barry said. “Nobody’s the boss of me.”

“You sure about that?” Hartley asked mockingly. “I thought you were a good boy.”

Suddenly the urge to throttle him became far more prevalent. But Barry kept himself in check. He meant what he’d said to Caitlin; he didn’t need anybody to keep him on a leash. He had his rules, and he kept to them.

Beside him, Len was visibly aching to strangle Hartley almost as badly as Barry was. With a nudge, Barry caught his attention. A look passed between them, and Len nodded curtly and stepped back. They both knew that Barry was more than capable of fighting his own battles. Still, he appreciated that he had someone ready to champion his cause, if need be.

“Say what you want about me,” he said. “But I’m no killer. I made that clear when I joined the Rogues. If they wanted help from me, if they wanted me to be one of them, then nobody else was going to get hurt. They’ve kept their promises. Too bad S.T.A.R Labs couldn’t say the same.”

Caitlin bit her blue lower lip and looked away. Barry had always wondered if that was lipstick, or if her powers had really turned her lips blue. Too bad they weren’t friends any more; he’d never get to ask.

“We’re leaving,” he said. “Don’t try to follow us. I’ve never killed anybody up until now, but if you come after us again tonight, I might just make an exception.”

He put his arm around Len, paused, and made cool eye contact with every single one of the others to show them that he meant business. They’d only been fighting together for a matter of months, still honing their skills; they’d come after the Rogues a few times, but never managed to be more than a thorn in their sides. A vague annoyance, like a mosquito bite. Tonight, they’d actually successfully angered him.

Up until now, Barry had been adamant with the rest of the Rogues that Killer Frost and her associates were off limits. He’d handle them himself, and he wouldn’t hurt them - not badly, anyway. He’d never been able to justify that to himself, really; it had always just been a vague sense that he owed them for helping him when he was in the coma, and when his powers first manifested. That, and if he was honest with himself, he still felt a lingering sense of affection for Cisco and Caitlin. Sometimes when he was in a nostalgic mood, he still looked back fondly at the few short weeks he’d spent at S.T.A.R Labs. They hadn’t taught him much, not in comparison to everything he’d learned on his own - but they’d been the starting point. The very beginning of his time as a speedster. For that, he had to thank them.

Now, though, they were starting to get on his nerves. Showing up all too frequently to appeal to his better nature, which he’d determinedly cast aside several years back. Barry Allen, sweet CSI, was a thing of the past. Now there was only The Flash - partner to Captain Cold, scourge of the city. He and Len had developed a partnership that was like a well-oiled machine - a nefarious, slightly wicked machine that did an awful lot of thieving. Against that, Caitlin and her ragged band of do-gooders didn’t stand a chance. Barry and Len wouldn’t even need to summon the other Rogues to help them finish off the ragged remains of Team Flash - not if they put their minds to it.

“Ready to go?” he said in Len’s ear.

“Get us out of here,” Len said.

Barry got hold of him and was about to oblige, when Caitlin said, “Leave the diamond.”

Len sneered at her. It was a magnificent sneer, dripping with disdain.

“Please, Snow,” he said. “Don’t push your luck.”

~*~

Barry lay on the couch in their latest safe house, brooding.

The two of them had a handful of houses spread out across the city. Some were communal, fair game for all the Rogues. Mark and Shawna had their own - legal - properties, Mick and Lisa had their favourites among the various houses they shared, and there were a couple of places where they had all been known to crash, either for convenience or because they were planning a big job, or because they’d all drunk themselves senseless and couldn’t manage to stumble to any of the more comfortable houses. Even Barry, who’d been studying a lot of chemistry in his free time and managed to rustle up a vicious alcoholic solution that kept him blind drunk for a good hour after he drank it, had been guilty of this from time to time. Alcohol and the speed force didn’t mix, he’d learned, and he’d learned it the hard way. Run into a few walls, given himself motion sickness and puked forcefully at a wall… now, he was more inclined to just crash wherever his drunken self saw fit, and handle it when he woke up.

But Len and Barry had also commandeered a couple of houses of their own, that were off-limits to the others. Places where they could keep things private, could wander around naked or sing in the shower, and just let loose without the other Rogues hanging around. They still tended to move around a lot, uprooting themselves on a regular basis just in case… but tonight they were still in the same place they had been crashing in for a few weeks now, and Barry was lounging on the sofa and staring at the TV. He hadn’t switched it on.

Len came to join him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch and dumping his feet in Barry’s lap. He still had his boots on. Barry grumbled and made a feeble attempt to throw him off before giving up and lapsing back into a sulk.

“What’s on your mind?” Len asked him.

Barry smiled distractedly. “Nothing worth saying out loud.”

Len poked him lightly. “I’ll be the judge of that. Spill, Scarlet.”

“It was just something Cait - Killer Frost said to me, that’s all. It’s nothing.”

“Knew it,” Len said. “It’s like I keep saying to you, Barry, they’re doing it on purpose. Getting under your skin. It’s what they do; they’re trying to lure you back. Just remember who your real friends are. Here’s a clue: it’s the ones who didn’t build a gun to shoot you in the back. The Rogues might be mean and violent, but if one of us has a problem with you, we’ll say it to your face. If one of us was going to shoot you, you’d know about it.”

“I know that,” Barry said. “And I’m not going back. I know where I belong.”

“But?”

Barry bit his lip. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like this isn’t where I’m meant to be. I never wanted to be this way, you know? Caitlin was right. As a kid, all I ever wanted was to help people. Now the only person I’m helping is myself.”

“Hate to break it to you, Scarlet, but that’s the way the world works. Nobody’s going to have your back except you. And me,” he added, squeezing Barry’s thigh. “Your life wasn’t exactly hot shit before I picked you up. Nobody ever bent over backwards to help you out. Why should you care about this city? It never gave a rat’s ass about you.”

“Cisco and Caitlin did,” Barry said quietly. “They looked after me. All that time I was in a coma, they never gave up on me. They helped me to become the Flash…”

“Don’t go getting sentimental. Don’t forget, they’re the ones who revealed your identity to the cops,” Len said. “To the entire city, even. You had to abandon your whole life because of them. Your family, too. If they’d kept their idiot mouths shut, you could have had a life outside of what we have. I never had a choice; Captain Cold was always just Leonard Snart. But you could’ve had more than that. Iris, and Joe...your dad. When was the last time you saw any of them? And if you did, would they ever accept you, knowing who you are?”

Helplessly, Barry stared at him.

“They betrayed you, Barry. You made one lousy mistake in a moment of anger and in response they took away everything you had, including any chance you had to back out. Your career, your family… now all that’s left is this. The Flash, and the Rogues. You couldn’t put your life back together even if you tried. You’ll never be just Barry Allen again; you’ll always be The Flash. Joint leader of the Rogues, Central City’s most wanted. That’s on them.”

Looking away, Barry sat and fidgeted. Messing with a loose thread on his shirt, then a weird stain on the sofa upholstery, and then the ring on his left hand, which he swivelled round and round absentmindedly. Len caught his hand.

“Barry.”

“Sorry,” Barry said. Pulling away, he rubbed his eyes. “I just feel like a hypocrite. The more I look back on it, the more it bothers me. All this time I’ve been mad at Cisco and Caitlin for building that gun in case I went over to the dark side. I was so angry that they thought I was gonna turn on them, when I never gave them any reason to think I would. But at the end of the day, that’s exactly what I did do.”

“Self-fulfilling prophecy. You never would’ve ditched them if they hadn’t been so certain you were going to. Think about it. If they hadn’t built that gun, if you’d all still been best buddies and I’d showed up and tried to recruit you to the Rogues anyway, would you still have come with me?”

Barry shook his head.

“Exactly. You put a guy in a box and he’s going to grow to fill it. Their expectations put fetters on you, Scarlet. Take myself, for example. My old man was a cold, mean bastard. He was a drunk, a thief, and a loser. Everyone always expected me to follow in his footsteps, treated me accordingly, and now look at me. I’m not a drunk, or a loser - but I am a thief.” Len looked him in the eyes. “Own it. Make it your decision. Can’t change it now, Scarlet. Might as well embrace it.” He lounged back in his seat. “Cisco and Caitlin may have set the gears in motion, but everything you did after you came with me was your own choice. And for one, I’m glad they screwed you over. They kicked you right into my lap. I should probably send them flowers.”

Barry snorted quietly. “I mean, you could, but I expect Hartley would piss on them before they ever got to Cisco’s desk.”

“I’ll take the risk.” Len shifted slightly. “What Snow said...is that the only thing that’s bothering you?”

“What else would I have to worry about?” Barry asked. “The job went off without a hitch. I’m here with you. I’ve got nothing else on my mind.”

“You’re not having doubts about… our partnership?”

Barry looked down at the ring he was twisting around on his finger. The first thing Len had ever had him steal. “Start off small,” he’d said, before packing Barry off to Coast City museum to pinch an ancient-looking ring from their new exhibit. Of course, he’d neglected to mention that the ring in question had originally belonged to a British monarch, was on loan from some museum in London and was worth roughly an even million to the right buyer. He’d saved that information for Barry’s return, and while Barry was staring at him, gobsmacked that he’d just stolen a million-dollar ring with no difficulty whatsoever, Len had pilfered the ring and pocketed it. “Welcome to the Rogues,” he’d said, and that was that.

Before long the incident had faded from Barry’s mind, and stealing ridiculously pricey artifacts had become commonplace. Just a part of daily life, really. Sometimes he took things so he could take them for a joyride around the city and then put them back before anybody knew they were gone - just for kicks. He hadn’t thought about the ring again in months, until a year or so later, when Len had finally returned it to him on bended knee, peeping out at him from a little black box.

It had rested on his finger ever since. Len had even had it resized before giving it to him, since a ring made for Queen Victoria’s fat little fingers would never have stayed on Barry’s slender hand.

‘Be my partner in crime?’ Len had said. Barry didn’t think he’d ever said yes so fast in his life.

Of all the things he’d done since joining the Rogues, the thing he was most proud of stealing was Len’s heart. Not that he’d ever say that out loud; the Rogues were all unanimous in their disgust of mushy declarations. But every now and then, Barry would look down at that little ring on his finger, priceless in more ways than one, and smile.

“Well?” Len demanded. “Do you regret it?”

“Never,” Barry promised.

“Good. Because just so you know, if you’d answered ‘yes’ to that question, I might’ve had to shoot you.”

“You’d have to catch me first.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean, you’re welcome to try,” teased Barry, pushing Len’s feet off his lap and standing up. “I’d even give you a head start. If it makes you feel better, I could even close my eyes and count to ten.”

“Shut up and get down here,” Len said, grabbing Barry’s wrist and pulling him back down onto the sofa.

He pulled Barry onto his lap, so that the younger man was straddling him with his knees on the couch. They sat together like that for a while, Barry still smiling faintly, Len holding his waist, his thumb rubbing against the sharp jut of Barry’s hipbone.

“You remember what I told you, that first night?” Len asked.

“You told me a lot of things. ‘Shut up’ was at the top of the list, as I recall. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“I told you that good guys always end up on the bottom. No matter how you swing things, how many little victories they take, there’s always another battle, always another loss. You’ve gotta be willing to get the upper hand, no matter what it takes. That’s why the bad guys win, Scarlet. We always come out on top.”

“Well that’s a little boring. Can’t be on top all the time. Bad guys might top 24/7, but what about guys like us? We’re not wicked through and through…” He started kissing Len’s neck, making the older man shiver slightly. Smirking, Barry pulled back and breathed, “Just a little bit badly behaved.”

“Well, I’ll drink to that,” Len said. “If you feel like passing me a beer.”

“Maybe later,” Barry said. “You still have a debt to make good on.”

“Do I really? And what debt is that?”

“Well, I stole your diamond for you,” Barry reminded him. “You said yourself that I’ve been a good boy.” He lowered his voice, looked up from underneath his eyelashes, and said, “Seems like I’m gonna have to take my turn on the bottom.”

“Hmm,” Len said, pulling him closer. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Playfully, he knocked Barry off his lap; the speedster landed on the sofa with a huff of surprise, at which point Len flipped him onto his back and crawled on top of him, pressing him purposefully into the upholstery. Grinning, Barry surged up to kiss him, whilst Len produced a condom from his pocket and, smirking, started to unbutton Barry’s pants.

“You know, there’s something to be said for ending up on the bottom,” Barry said, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Mm,” Len agreed, and he started kissing Barry’s neck, making the speedster shiver. “Guess so. I underestimated my influence over you, Flash. Maybe there’s still some good in you after all.”