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batsutousaiTitle: Only Half the Rainbow
Fandom: CW's The Flash & Legends of Tomorrow
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, Barry Allen/Mick Rory, Barry Allen/Iris West, Barry Allen/Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
Warnings: Soulmate AU, canon character death, grief, PTSD, alcohol dependency, verbal abuse, canon-typical violence, slow burn, happy ending
Summary: The thing no one ever tells you about being the hero, is that you always lose something when you're saving the day. And, some days, when you finally make it home, it turns out you've lost the only thing that ever mattered.
A/N: So, about that happy ending I promised...
As an aside, since canon (so far as I'm aware) didn't give us a name for Chronos' ship, and I got tired of referring to it that way, I went ahead and pulled a name out of Greek mythology for it. (It wasn't quite necessary, but... *snickers*)
Chapter Four
-0-
Their two days in Coast City turned into a week, which turned into two weeks almost without Barry noticing. He made a point to check his mobile every night, before turning in, but things in Central were quiet – Cisco made a joke, around day nine, about how Star City always had a period of limited crime after Oliver took out some horrible evil, and maybe they were enjoying the same thing – and Iris remained insistent that he needed to stay with his soulmate. (To the point that Singh emailed Barry to let him know that he'd got and approved his leave extension request, even though Barry didn't remember requesting the extension, and Joe had sworn he hadn't put in on his behalf, though he seemed to approve of Barry taking a longer break. Iris, of course, admitted to nothing, but Barry knew her well enough to tell she'd been the culprit.)
Somehow, after the play fight in the water, things got easier.
Not perfect – Barry still had to hunt Rory down at a bar every third night or so, and Rory woke him from more than a couple nightmares, and they both had times when they'd snarl insults at each other because something random set off their temper – but better than Barry ever could have expected their impromptu holiday would have gone. Rory never quite lowered himself to building sand castles, and Barry refused to actually participate in Rory's thieving on the beach; but Rory would let himself be drawn into the ocean to get Barry back for something, and Barry would quietly speed Rory away from any cops or the one time he almost got caught stealing.
(And if Barry saw something – something so much worse than the petty thievery Rory took part in – because he was always moving just a little too fast, seeing just a little too much, but he couldn't always do anything about it, and the police wouldn't get involved unless there was a crime to see... If he saw something and he mentioned it to Rory, Rory would go and commit violence, would solve it in a manner that Barry wouldn't have thought of, because no one in their right mind would look at him and think he was dangerous. And Barry would always be there to pull him out, after.)
They found a middle ground, somehow, a space between their very different lifestyles where they could meet each other on even footing. Where they could reach out and take each other's hand or hug and it didn't matter that they had the shittiest fucking history, or that Rory was suffering from a broken heart and Barry had a huge crush on his best friend.
(It didn't matter that Barry definitely also had a huge crush on Rory, despite all his attempts to not, or that Rory almost certainly didn't like him back.)
Somehow, they found something like peace, and a part of Barry – the part that would never recover from watching far too many people die just because they mattered to him and he had superpowers – wanted things to stay like that forever.
Life, of course, is never that accommodating.
Mick'd been innocently buying himself a hot dog from a vendor with money that wasn't his, when the screaming started.
His first reaction was to try to find the kid – Barry; he'd finally got himself used to using that in his own head, but he still preferred to use 'Red' out loud – because he'd have done the same thing with Lenny, and too many months spent with a bunch of idiot heroes had taught him that–
Yup. Kid was in the middle of things, running around and getting people out of the way of water streams.
Mick blinked and tilted his head to the side, considering the man who was standing in the small cyclone of water that bobbed along over the waves. He looked to be shouting insults – and throwing water streams – at a woman who was waist-deep in the water, between him and the beach. Given the water streams kept somehow curving around the woman – the man was getting progressively more red in the face each time – Mick assumed they were both metahumans. Which figured; of course it would be a couple of idiotic metas who would ruin their holiday.
"Really?" Barry complained as he came to a sudden stop next to Mick, just as he was taking a bite of his hot dog; apparently, all of the innocent bystanders were enough out of the way that he felt secure taking a breather.
"They were outta popcorn," Mick lied, just to watch Barry's face spasm in that way it did when he wanted to laugh, but didn't think he should. (Lenny would have had the best time torturing the kid with that, and Mick did it half the time in his memory.)
Barry huffed out an annoyed sound and looked back towards the fight on the water. "You'd be useless, anyway," he muttered.
Mick grunted in agreement, because he knew better than to bring fire to a water fight. (Not that he actually had his gun; he'd left it on the Waverider, even though he hadn't honestly been certain he'd be returning to the team.) Then he held out the other half of his hot dog, because he doubted Barry was going to stand back and watch, and he didn't particularly want to deal with a hypoglycemic speedster.
"Thanks," Barry said, accepting the hot dog with one of his brighter smiles. (The ones that lit up his face and made him look all at once a little too young and a lot too fond; Mick was trying desperately not to fall in love with those smiles, but he'd always been weak to the slightest show of affection, even if he was certain it was just Barry's usual manner.)
The hot dog vanished before Mick could have drawn the breath to respond, had he cared to do so, and Barry didn't stick around much longer.
By all appearances, Barry was going to try to talk sense into the metas first – part of Mick liked the idea of them being able to leave without his soulmate chancing life and limb to handle some little fight, but the rest of him wanted to smack Barry, because no way there'd be any talking the two down if they'd resorted to using their powers on a public beach – but Mick was distracted from watching the fallout – or stealing a replacement hot dog from the abandoned cart – by the sound of a gun's safety clicking off.
There was a guy standing just out of reach to Mick's right, arms shaking as he brought up a handgun to point in the direction of the water.
Mick didn't really think – didn't care who the guy was aiming at, or if he might have been a cop – he just saw a potential danger to his soulmate and moved, same as he would have done for Lenny. The gun was in his hand and pressed against the guy's temple before he could get a shot off, and Mick leant in and snarled, "Ya really think a gun's gonna stop th' likes o' them?"
"We can't let freaks run rampant–!"
Mick used the butt of the gun to knock the guy out, because he was fairly certain he'd have ended up killing him if he'd let him keep talking; no one called his soulmate a freak.
Rather than think too closely on his reaction – he knew he had a protective streak and zero tolerance for bigots, he just hadn't had cause to lash out on Barry's behalf yet – he turned back to the mess along the shore. Just in time to watch Barry barely manage to dodge a water attack from the man, only to get blown back along the sand by some sort of wind attack from the woman.
"Goddamn fuckin' metas," Mick grumbled as he gave the gun in his hands a quick check, then raised it and fired two shots at the man. (The woman may have been closer, but Mick was more certain about his ability to hit a non-vital spot on the man, as much of him was out of the water. Besides, given the way the woman hadn't been hit by the man's attacks earlier, he couldn't one hundred percent say a bullet would hit her.)
The man howled as at least one of the bullets hit him in the leg. Instead of crumpling or making an escape, however, like any normal person would have done, he sent a stream of water at Mick.
Wind buffeted him, and Mick was suddenly a good few feet from his original position, a lifeguard tower blocking him from the metas in the water. "Don't. Help," Barry hissed, glaring at him and hands squeezing Mick's arms hard enough it actually ached a bit, despite the fact he couldn't reach all the way around.
"The hell I'm gonna let ya–"
"I'm way more durable than you!" Barry practically shouted. "I can take these two fine, but not if I'm watching out for you, too!"
"Never asked ya' t'watch fer me," Mick replied, irritated; it was bad enough the kid started twitching if he so much as glanced at something alcoholic, but now he was gonna act like Mick couldn't hold his own in a fucking fight? "'M not fuckin' glass."
"Shut up and stay here," Barry ordered, and then he was gone.
Mick fully intended to not listen – or, at the least, use his new cover to shoot the metas on the water again – but he didn't get much further than peering around the edge of the lifeguard tower, before he stopped and stared.
There was a whirl of what he was fairly certain was Barry – the yellow lightning sparking around the edges was familiar, and he was fairly certain the streaks of white and red were the kid's shirt and trunks, respectively – in the middle of the beach, which both the metas on the water were staring at, clearly ready to attack again, but uncertain where to aim. (The whirl wasn't that large; Mick would have just aimed at the center and kept up the attack until he knew it had hit. Or, well, he probably wouldn't; Mick was almost glad Lenny was gone, because he honestly wasn't certain he'd be able to handle playing superhero and supervillains when he knew he'd be aiming at one of his soulmates.)
Right before it looked like the two metas were going to try attacking – Mick noticed that all arguments seemed to have been set aside in favor of fighting the Flash as a team, which figured – Barry jumped out of the whirl and sent a massive bolt of lightning into the water near the two metas, shocking them both to unconsciousness.
Which, okay, maybe that was a good reason to stay put. Because if Mick had been in the water – or had one of the streams of water headed his way – he'd very probably have ended up out cold, too.
Between one blink and the next, the two metas were laid out on the beach, and then Mick was buffeted by wind and found himself in their hotel room, clothing slowly settling around Barry's newly-opened suitcase and the door to the bathroom slamming shut.
Mick blinked, snorted, then clicked the gun's safety back into place; he was getting a little too used to the sudden change in position that apparently came from spending time around the Flash. "Red?" he called as he moved to set the gun on the nightstand.
The kid stepped out of the bathroom, changed into new clothing and noticeably red in the face. "My clothing wasn't friction-proof," he mumbled.
It took Mick a couple seconds to figure out what that meant, but then he burst out laughing, because the thought of the Flash actually flashing people was just too good. And it was absolutely the sort of terrible joke that Lenny would have found a way to make in the middle of a fight, just to make the rest of them groan.
Remembering that sort of killed his humor, but the kid was already in front of him, face possibly even redder, as he snapped, "It's not funny!"
"Kinda is," Mick insisted, just to be difficult. And because teasing Barry helped distract him from the empty space next to them where someone else should have been standing.
Barry huffed and crossed his arms over his chest and sort of slumped a bit. "Okay," he said in the sort of petulant tone that should have made Mick want to cuff him, but he actually just mostly found ridiculously adorable, "I guess it's sort of funny."
Mick snorted, then said, "New trick, that lightnin'?" Because he was pretty sure the kid would have used it on them in their first fight, otherwise. Unless he had a problem aiming it?
Barry's expression went tight in that way that meant Zoom was involved, but Mick was still surprised when the kid said, "Zoom taught me."
"Zoom tau–" Mick started, because that just...didn't make sense. Teaching one of your enemies tricks he could use against you?
"He was pretending to be our friend," Barry snapped, his voice tight and hard, like he was trying to be angry to keep from crying. "It seems to be a thing villains get a kick out of."
Mick was fairly certain the kid wasn't talking about him or Lenny – though Lenny had worked with and then betrayed the Flash and his team at one point, he knew – but he honestly didn't know enough about any of the other opponents the kid had gone up against to say which other one(s) he might be talking about.
He cast about for another topic – he already knew the kid didn't like talking about Zoom, and Mick didn't blame him, avoided talking about the Time Pigs and the Legends for what was likely a similar reason – but something about the lightning throwing was...important. Somehow. In some way. (That little corner of his brain where what little was left of Chronos had hidden was screaming at him.) So he asked, "How's it work? The lightnin'."
"The–" Barry started a bit, his expression clearing. "I just– I mean, you've seen that I, uh, I spark?"
"Noticed that, yeah," Mick agreed, because that was usually how he figured out the kid had seen something that he wanted to fix, but couldn't let himself get involved in, for whatever pointless do-gooder reason. (It was also what most likely woke Mick up when the kid was having a nightmare. Not that he'd ever told Barry as much.)
Barry's mouth quirked with a helpless little smile. "Yeah, well, I run really, really fast in a tight circle, sort of... Well, I collect, I guess, those sparks, until I've got enough for what I need? Then I throw them."
"How fast?" Mick heard himself asking from a bit of a distance, because he was starting to form an inkling of an idea. Something that would be utterly impossible for him to do, but if Barry could go fast enough– "Fast enough to travel in time?"
The kid frowned, something dark shadowing his face, but he quietly agreed, "Maybe, I don't know. It's easier to get that sort of speed while going straight, but I should be able to get enough momentum in a circle. Why?"
"The place where Lenny–" breathe "–died, the Vanishin' Point. It's outside o' time, where time drives 'n their sort can't be used, can't change thin's. But ya' use sum'thin' different."
"The Speed Force," Barry agreed, face still shadowed. "You told me I shouldn't change time, though. If I stop Snart from dying, what will that do to, what did you call it? The will of time?"
Mick shook his head, realizing he'd need to explain a lot more about the events surrounding Lenny's death. Which he didn't want to do, didn't want to remember any of it. But, too, he had hope, now. Tenuous and too close to impossible, but it was there.
He dropped to sit on his bed with a sigh, and motioned for the kid to sit on the other bed, which he did in a slow, careful manner that looked even more patently ridiculous for him than for non-speedsters.
" 'Bout when time travel got perfected t'the point it were safe fer common use," Mick started, because he figured the back story could only help, "group o' law-minded sort decided it needed t'be regulated, so they created a force o' time police, sorta. The whole lot o' pretentious fucks eventually came t'the name Time Masters, 'n they built a home fer themselves in the Vanishin' Point, where they could observe 'n care fer time without it affectin' them.
"English was a Time Pig, 'fore Savage offed his family. When they wouldn't help him fix it, he found us who would. The Time Pigs, though, they had a device, the Oculus, which let'em watch English 'n us, change things so there were nothin' we could do. 'N then they dragged us in to kill us all."
Barry made a quiet, distressed noise, his expression dark with the same sort of shadows that Zoom brought, but he didn't say anything.
"We figured destroyin' the Oculus, their source o' power, would be the only way t'beat 'em," Mick explained, hated the way his voice had gone thick. " 'Cept, the way Haircut devised, it needed sum'un t'be there when it exploded."
"A suicide mission," the kid said, voice quiet and holding a world of meaning. Like, just maybe, he was a little too familiar with last-ditch efforts when it was do or die.
(Mick suspected, his stomach churning, that he did, and would do even more in future.)
"Yeah," he choked out, closing his eyes against either the memories or Barry. Or both. "I owed him, so I took his place. And Lenny–"
"Took yours," Barry said when Mick couldn't. Same as the last time they'd discussed Lenny's death.
And then the bed dipped next to him, and hands wrapped around his, cradling it like their owner thought he was precious or some shit. (Or, more likely, like he thought physical contact made everything better; Mick hated, just a little, that the kid might be right about that.)
He didn't pull away, but he didn't return the grip, either, figured that was an acceptable middle ground. "Thing is," he said without opening his eyes, refused to grimace at how rough his voice sounded, "the Oculus, it's a powerful artifact. Seeped in time in a place without. I think – pretty certain – if we take a ship, 'n ya open a path t' the moment it blew, Lenny should be able t' jump through. Avoid the explosion."
"He wouldn't have to die, because he'd already done his part!" the kid said, sounding excited, and his hands squeezed Mick's. "Oh, but, wait. How would we get there?" He let out a quiet, tired-sounding laugh as Mick chanced looking at him, found a wry smile tugging across Barry's face. "I mean, uh, English or whoever, he must have a ship. But I can't imagine how we'll explain you bringing me in and me agreeing."
Yeah, Mick didn't much want to tackle that hurdle, either. Given, he didn't think Lenny would have told the others that they were soulmates – it was the sort of thing they usually kept to themselves, honestly – so they wouldn't have to tackle there being three of them, but still. Telling a bunch of wanna-be heroes that another hero's soulmate was an unapologetic criminal? (Especially a criminal they all thought was an idiot and who had spent far too long following them through time and space with the intent to kill them; brainwashing or no, he didn't have to overhear any uncomfortable conversations to know they would be struggling with trusting him because of that for a while.)
Well, there was another option, thankfully, and Mick was quick to offer, "There's another ship we can use, Ananke. Left her in 1960, outside Nanda Parbat." Which, well, if the kid knew Sara, he should know what that was.
Barry let out a moan and covered his face with one hand. "Oh my god. What possessed you lot to leave a time ship outside the home base of the League of Assassins?"
"Didn't have a choice." Mick shrugged. " 'N we were too busy after t' go back fer it." Or, more like, the others hadn't discussed it with him, and Mick had been perfectly happy leaving it where it was; figured it wouldn't hurt to have a time ship held aside if he got kicked off again.
Barry let out what sounded suspiciously like a giggle, then he peered out at Mick from behind his hand, his smile just a little bit crooked. "We should go back to 1960 to retrieve it, shouldn't we?"
"Yup."
"And then go save Snart from an explosion that's already happened."
Mick snorted, a little too amused that the kid made that sound like something a reasonable person would say. (Then again, the kid had traveled in time before, so maybe it was reasonable. Sort of. For them, at least.) "Yup."
The kid didn't stop smiling, but his next words curled out between them like something dark and terrible: "And then you and Snart fly off to make trouble in some other time's backyard."
Barry didn't need to say that he wouldn't be leaving Central City, because that would never have been up for debate. (Even if Mick hadn't had to push to get him to take a holiday, he already knew the Flash would spend his life keeping Central safe.)
He'd never thought he might have the chance to have both of his soulmates at the same time, hadn't thought he'd get Lenny back at all. He'd settled himself to mourn the long way around, maybe try to find a place for himself when Barry had to get back to Central. He'd halfway assumed he'd be out of the picture by the time Barry married his foster sister – fuck knew how many years he actually had left, and it wasn't like his lifestyle was particularly compatible, anyway – but the thought that the kid would run to someone else's arms because Mick and Lenny had left him behind rankled.
Barry Allen had a third of his soul, for better or worse. He wasn't just some random bloke on the street who happened to have the one ability that could get Mick's other half back. And that he thought that was the case...
"Ya think, what?" Mick snapped, his voice coming out a little too harsh. "We get a time ship 'n ferget t' come back? Ya think I won't drag ya outta Central next time yer lookin' like shit run over?"
"I-I didn't–" Barry stammered, his eyes wide and shocked.
"Ya didn't," Mick growled, before reaching up and shoving the finger of his hand that wasn't holding tight to the one Barry had left with his against the kid's chest. "Yer our soulmate, too. Idiot."
"Oh," Barry said, blinking a little too rapidly for Mick's comfort.
Given the kid's penchant for hugs, Mick figured that was his best option, so he yanked him across the empty space between them and wrapped his arms around him.
And Barry let out a pathetic little hiccupping sound and hugged him back with a mumbled, "Sorry," against Mick's shirt.
"Idiot," Mick muttered again, and sighed when he felt the spread of dampness at the spot where the kid had hidden his face. "Even if I was so heartless, Lenny's had a crush on ya since ya bungled his stupid diamond heist."
"Wait, what?" Barry demanded, pulling back to give Mick a disbelieving look. His eyes were wet, but Mick's comment seemed to have stopped his tears, which had maybe been a part of why he'd said it. (Lenny would kill him for letting that slip, though he'd fooled absolutely no one.) "No way."
Mick just raised his eyebrows at him in response.
Barry covered his face with both hands. "Oh my god. I owe Iris so much money, now."
Mick couldn't quite stop a loud laugh; as much as he wanted to hate the woman for the future she'd share with Barry, everything he'd heard about her over the past couple of weeks left him thinking he'd probably end up liking her. Which was the same thing that had happened with Lisa, as much as he hated that Lenny always put her first, so it figured.
Barry dropped his hands to his lap with a sigh and smiled a smile that looked somehow sad. "So, when do you want to leave? And keep in mind that I need to get my suit if I'm going to be going fast enough to time travel."
Mick frowned at that smile, but didn't ask. "How long'll it take ya ta run t' Nanda Parbat? With me." Because he needed to be there to drive his ship.
Barry shrugged. "From here? Maybe two hours? I wasn't really timing myself the last time I did it." Mick's surprise must have shown on his face, because he quickly added, "It was in the middle of the mess with the Thawne, okay? I had other things on my mind, but I owed Oliver."
Mick shook his head, honestly more surprised that the kid could make it that fast. Though, really, he figured going over water – at least, he was fairly certain speedsters could run on water – would be a lot faster than going over land, where things like mountains and buildings got in the way.
The kid huffed. "Right. So, I'll run back to Central, grab my suit, then pick you up on my way back. Sound good?"
"Sure."
"Anything you need in Central?" the kid asked as he stood, looking towards the stolen gun sitting on the nightstand.
"Nope. Got everythin' here," Mick promised, because most of his things had been left on the Waverider. And Gideon could synthesize him pretty much whatever he thought he might need when he got to Ananke.
Barry nodded, and then he was gone.
Mick sighed and got up to pack the kid's clothing back into his suitcase. And maybe clean up a few other things, so they weren't leaving the place a complete mess.
There was, quite clearly, a story on the time ship Rory had directed them to. (Ananke, he'd called it.)
The story was found in the way the ship's version of Gideon – and hadn't that been odd, finding a male version of the AI he was so used to thinking of as a female – called Rory 'Chronos', and the way he'd gone stiff and silently angry in response. It was in the way Rory had moved through the ship like it was familiar, but had flinched away from what looked suspiciously like a body part that had shattered all over over the floor next to one of the banisters that lined the ship's halls, with a splash of disturbingly familiar ice melting along the wall above it. (Barry was pretty sure he didn't want to know.) It was in the food that he found in the kitchen Rory had directed Barry to, insisting he looked hungry – he sort of was, to be fair – most of which Barry had come to think of, over the past two weeks, as being some of Rory's favorites.
"Should I ask," he said as he returned to the bridge, cowl shoved back because he hardly needed it, "why you have a time ship?"
Rory's shoulders went stiff again, and he snapped, "No. Sit down so we can go."
Barry sighed and sat; he honestly hadn't expected an answer, anyway.
Rory was completely still for a long moment, then he glanced over his shoulder at Barry, his expression guarded in a way that Barry wasn't used to seeing on him. "Travel by time drive can have some weird effects. Dunno how you'll handle it; no records o' speedsters goin' this way."
"Sounds fun," Barry decided, and strapped himself in. Just in case.
(He sincerely hoped he wasn't about to regret the sandwich he'd made himself and eaten on the way to the bridge.)
Rory grunted, then turned back to the controls attached to his seat.
Without any further warning, the world tightened, then lengthened, and Barry was hit with a very distinct sense of not belonging. He grabbed tight to the harness of his chair and squeezed his eyes shut against the sight of swirling green out the screen, and that seemed to help. Just a little.
And then everything eased up, and he opened his eyes to the sight of a massive structure with debris sprinkled around what looked to be a couple of damaged sections.
"Red?" Rory called.
"I think," Barry said, wincing a bit at how rough his voice sounded, "that I prefer travelling via the Speed Force."
Rory snorted but didn't argue; given that he'd said, "That weren't so bad," upon their arrival in 1960, Barry assumed he also preferred Barry's manner of time travelling.
Rory was out of his chair and striding over to Barry before he could finish getting his harness up, and Barry blinked in confusion when he crouched down next to him, then held up three fingers. "How many?"
"Three. Why?"
"Jest checkin'," Rory told him, then turned and walked back to his chair. "Need ta pilot us inta place. Hangar bay'll have the most space; best ta do it there."
"You're the boss," Barry agreed, relaxing back in his chair.
Rory snorted and, Barry was fairly certain, said something along the lines of, "That's a new 'un."
Barry frowned, but didn't say anything. Mostly because he wasn't completely certain what Rory had said.
There were a couple of other ships moving around the sprawling structure, but none of them seemed to take any notice of their ship. (Or, if they did, they stayed out of their way. Which, if this was Rory's ship, Barry could sort of understand that; so far as he could tell, the man didn't even have to try to exude a sense of menace. Which had maybe spooked Barry a bit, once, but he'd got to know Rory a lot better, after their holiday, and he was pretty certain the menace was unintentional. Well, sometimes.)
When Rory determined they were in the exact spot – with Gideon quick to agree – they both got up and went down to what Rory had called the hangar bay. Which was pretty much just an open space, with one corner that looked as though it had been turned into a high-tech gym. There would be plenty of space for Barry to run in, without chancing running into anything, which was really all he could have asked for.
Gideon directed him to the preferred position, and then Barry started to run.
As he ran, he let his mind wander a bit, thinking back to the last time he'd seen Snart, smirking at him and Iris over that stupid mug that Iris had got Joe years before, complaining about how they didn't have any mini marshmallows. Iris had come out of that little exchange thinking Snart had the hots for him, or something, and Barry still didn't know how to feel about that. Because a part of him had always been drawn to Snart, but he loved Iris. And now, knowing Snart was with Rory, having watched Rory mourn him...
Barry sucked in a breath that trembled, and then the Speed Force opened in the middle of the circle he was running.
Neither him nor Rory had known what to expect – never mind that it was all theory, there was no way to let Snart know he'd have a chance to escape his fate – so when Snart didn't immediately jump out with his familiar smirk, Barry went to plan B: He reached into the Speed Force, putting his faith in Rory and Gideon's calculations and the web of fate that connected the three of them, grabbed the first thing he touched, and pulled.
Snart fell out with a shout of surprise, the Speed Force closing up as soon as he was clear, and Barry overbalanced and tumbled back onto the floor, Snart on top of him.
Snart blinked down at him, then smirked. "Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, Barry." And the way he said Barry's name sent a shudder down his spine, despite the familiar edge of mocking, that reminder that he knew who the Flash was and could ruin Barry's life at any moment.
Before Barry could come up with a response to that, Rory stormed forward and punched Snart in the face. With enough force to knock him off Barry.
"Mick!" Barry shouted, scrambling to his feet and grabbing Rory's wrist before he could throw another punch. "What the hell?!"
Snart, though, laughed from where he was sprawled on the floor, one hand rubbing at the side of his face that Rory had hit.
"Fuckin' asshole," Rory snarled, but he relaxed his stance, hands uncurling from fists, and Barry was fairly certain that meant he wasn't going to go punching Snart again.
"You would have done the same," Snart said, his smile less the familiar smirk and more something gentle. Fond.
Barry felt distinctly like an outsider seeing something not meant for him, and he let Rory go and stepped back, out of the way.
Rory reached down and grabbed the hand Snart held up to him, pulling him to his feet, and then they kissed, curling into each other like they were back where they belonged.
Something rancid was climbing Barry's throat – he should have known he'd regret that sandwich – and he turned and made his escape while the pair of them were otherwise occupied.
He eventually found himself in the hallway with the shattered whatever, wondering if he should clean it up, since it was...more than a little disturbing. Also, given Rory's reaction to it, it might be kinder if he didn't have to handle it.
"I see you've found my hand," Snart's voice said from behind him.
Barry jumped, just a little, and twisted to see that, yes, Snart had snuck up on him. And then he realized what he'd just said and took two quick steps back from the shattered mess on the floor. "Your–"
"Long, ugly story," Snart said in that irritatingly blasé way he had. "Rip had the technology to regrow it." He wiggled the fingers of his right hand at Barry, smirking.
Barry crossed his arms tight over his chest, not certain how he felt about...anything, really. "What do you want, Snart?"
Snart tilted his head to the side, and his eyes were too sharp, too knowing as he looked Barry over. "Right before our, hm, fateful journey to the Vanishing Point, I got a visitor: You."
"I didn't–" Barry started, before he realized what Snart's words meant.
"Not yet," Snart said, almost like he was reading Barry mind. "But you will. And I'll get to die knowing someone will be there, looking out for Mick. Or, well–" he held motioned to himself "–not die, evidently."
"So," Barry heard himself say, "it was my fault."
Snart's eyes narrowed and he suddenly looked a lot more dangerous than Barry could remember him ever seeming. "Saving my life?" he said, voice gone low and icy. "Yes, that was your fault. How dare you."
"That's not–"
"Don't complete that sentence, or I'll have to go punch him," Snart warned, and Barry swallowed down the rest of his correction; he didn't really want to be the cause behind Snart and Rory getting into a fight, honestly.
Snart stared at him for a long, silent moment, then asked, "How drunk was he?"
Barry shook his head. "It doesn't matter." Even though it maybe kind of did; one good thing about getting Snart back, was Barry wouldn't have to be dragging Rory out of the bottom of any more glasses or bottles. Which he appreciated.
"I suppose not," Snart allowed. "You stayed, despite him trying to push you away."
Barry frowned, because he wasn't certain what that had to do with anything.
Snart took three quick steps forward, moving into Barry's personal space fast enough to leave him wondering if he hadn't maybe picked up a little of the Speed Force on his way through. And then long fingers folded around Barry's chin, far more gentle than he'd ever have expected of their owner, and Barry had one long half-second to take in the wash of color that filled his vision, before lips were pressing against his.
Everything Barry had ever read romanticized the first kiss between soulmates, claiming there was a sort of electric zing, or that you would lose yourself in each other forever. Even Iris had gushed about her first kiss with Eddie, insisting it was the moment she'd felt most alive, that it was like the one thing in her life that she'd been living for, had made every hardship worth it.
Given who was kissing him, Barry would have expected confetti going everywhere, or a loud horn playing a victory tune of some sort. Instead, the world seemed to slow and narrow, easing back into real time in a way that wasn't dissimilar to when he'd lost his powers, but felt far more natural, less like a weakness, and Barry found himself relaxing into the kiss, returning it without meaning to, without having time to overthink or debate the consequences.
"Thank you, Barry," Snart eventually whispered against Barry's lips, and his name, for once, didn't sound like a taunt. Instead, it sounded fond and almost...precious.
The world caught up to him, then, and Barry choked on what tasted depressingly like regret. "Yeah," he whispered, and tried to pull away.
But Snart caught his head between his hands, fingers curling around the shells of his ears in what was clearly a threat to use them as handholds if Barry didn't stay put. His eyes, when Barry met them, still had that too knowing glint, and Barry felt uncomfortably naked. "The problem," Snart said, quiet but with a slight edge, like he maybe hated what he was saying, "with mucking about with time travel, especially Mick's experiences with it, is that you end up finding out things you never should have known. Did you know that history has you marrying Miss West?"
"Yeah," Barry croaked. When Snart raised an eyebrow, he explained, "Eobard Thawne, the Reverse-Flash, he was from the future. He had a version of Gideon we found, and one of his favorite articles was written by Iris West-Allen."
Snart hummed. "And how do you feel about that knowledge?"
How did Barry feel about marrying Iris?
He'd been relieved, at one point, but also disgusted with himself, because Iris belonged with her soulmate, no matter how long Barry had loved her. After Eddie's death, it had felt like an ugly reminder that Iris had never been meant to marry her soulmate; what should have felt like a promise of their happy future – or as happy as they could be, when Barry was destined to vanish in less than a decade – had felt like yet more proof that Eddie's death had been Barry's fault.
Now, though...
Iris being willing to try, Barry finally finding his soulmate – soulmates – he felt... He wasn't certain. It wasn't like Snart and Rory had room for him, no matter what Rory had said – no matter how comfortable kissing Snart had felt – so he supposed it was nice to know he could still have one happy ending.
Almost like he'd seen Barry reaching his conclusion – and didn't approve, judging from his tone – Snart snapped, "Here's the thing: I fucked up." His eyes slid to the side, like maybe saying that was a little too honest, and Barry caught himself holding his breath as Snart took a breath and met his eyes again, something raw in them that made Barry's chest ache. "I fucked up," he said again, a little bit quieter, "and Mick paid the price. Not the first time, given, but this time..."
Snart stepped back, letting Barry go, and he looked down at the shattered remains of what was apparently his hand. "The Time Masters got him, Mick, tried their damnedest to break him, to turn him against me. Us. The Legends." His mouth quirked at the last, looking somehow bitter and mocking all at once. "They almost managed it."
Barry felt a chill go down his spine; the heavy shadows that crossed Rory's face sometimes, his missing scars, him owning a ship where he was called a different name, the shattered remains of Snart's hand... He'd been seeing the signs all along, but he hadn't realized what it meant. "He tried to kill you," he guessed.
"No," Snart corrected, smiling a tired smile. "He threatened to kill Lisa."
Lisa Snart, the one person Snart probably held more dear than anyone else. Except maybe Rory.
The rage that washed through Barry reminded him so very much of the rage he'd felt towards Zoom after watching him kill Dad, he staggered under the weight of it.
He wanted the Time Masters dead.
He forced himself to breathe, to remember that, from what Rory had said the first time Barry'd got him to talk about Snart's death, that explosion had taken out the Time Masters. (Or the Time Pigs, Rory always called them.) They were dead, couldn't hurt either of his soulmates again. Both of whom had made it out alive, thanks to fate and some judicious misuse of the Speed Force's time travelling capabilities.
"Impressive blood lust," Snart drawled.
"Shut up," Barry snapped, crossing his arms tight over his chest. "It's been a shitty year."
Snart was quiet for a moment, then he said, sounding so honest it actually hurt a little bit to hear, "Mick told me about Doc Allen. I'm sorry."
"Yeah," Barry whispered, willing himself not to cry at the reminder of his loss. It was easier, after two weeks away from Central, but it still ached, and Barry knew, from experience, that it always would.
Snart kept quiet for long enough that Barry managed to mostly get his emotions back under control, then he quietly said, "I can't put Mick back together alone."
"What makes you think I'll be any help?" Barry had to ask; he was pretty sure he was enough of a mess, himself, that he'd do as much harm as good.
Snart caught his eyes, the certainty in his gaze holding Barry fast. "You already have been. And not just because you dragged me away from that explosion," he added, before Barry could think it. "I know how he self-destructs."
Barry winced at that, because Snart would put it that way.
"So," Snart said, taking a step forward, back into Barry's space, "since we have a time ship, you're going to stay, and you're going to help me, for as long as I say."
"The hell–!" Barry started, bristling at the implication that he was going to dance to Snart's tune.
"And you," Snart interrupted, keeping his voice at a perfectly reasonable indoors volume, but Barry still somehow felt like he'd just been shouted down, "will have a chance to grieve in peace, without any cities to rebuild or metas to take on without a plan or backup."
Barry looked away, hating that Snart had apparently figured out his own self-destructive tendencies; evidently, he'd finally found someone who wouldn't let him run himself to exhaustion.
"And both of you," Snart continued in a tone that somehow sounded both reasonable and conceited, "will figure out that I don't give a damn about whatever bullshit future a computer program has concocted; I keep what's mine."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Barry demanded, though he suspected he already knew.
"Miss West will simply have to find another husband," Snart said. And then he smirked.
"Now I know why Mick punched you," Barry muttered, because he was definitely feeling the urge.
Snart laughed, and it sounded somehow fragile to Barry. And then he reached up and cupped Barry's cheek, and Barry couldn't really stop the way he leant into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "Tell me you want to leave, and I'll let you," Snart said, voice quiet and pained. "We'll stay out of Central, let you have your little romance with Miss West. But if you stay, Barry, you will never get rid of us."
And then Snart pulled away, and Barry opened his eyes in time to watch him walk away, turning a corner and vanishing from sight.
"Shit," Barry whispered, drooping back against the handrail behind him.
He'd been all set to just leave, settle in with Iris like future records seemed to think he was going to do. (Probably take it slow; he wasn't certain he felt any more ready to start a relationship with her, now, than he had before he'd run into Rory. Albeit for slightly different reasons.) Maybe see Rory and Snart once every other year, probably have to stop them from stealing something priceless, possibly get dragged off to holiday on a beach, like Rory'd threatened. Keep a comet's orbit.
Trust Snart to throw a wrench in his plans.
So he had to pick between the love of his life and the other two thirds of his soul.
He looked down at his gloved hand, the play of the ship's lights over the red that, until recently, he never thought he'd see, and he knew what Iris would say. What she'd already said, even without knowing whose arms she was sending Barry towards. She honestly and truly believed people belonged with their soulmates, and she'd never forgive Barry if he turned his back on his.
(Honestly, Barry wasn't certain he'd forgive himself.)
Iris had been so certain that Barry would come to love Rory, and Barry could admit, at least to himself, that she was probably right. And he already knew he had...something with Snart. Obsession or a mutual enjoyment of pushing each other's buttons.
Barry choked out a laugh and covered his face with his hands, because he'd known what his choice would be all along. Had probably decided long before Iris had told him he'd come to love Rory.
No, Mick; there was no reason to continue the pretense of distance between them, was there? Same with Snart. Lenny.
God it felt weird to think of them by their first names. But also not.
Soulmates.
It didn't take him long to find them, even going at a normal speed, but, then, they clearly weren't hiding; Sn– Lenny was slouched in one of the bridge chairs, making it look somehow comfortable, while Mick was scrolling through something on one of the consoles set apart from the chairs.
"Barry," Lenny drawled, shooting him a lazy smirk. "So good of you to join us."
Barry suspected he was going to spend a lot of time wanting to punch that particular smirk off of Lenny's face. Which, given, was hardly something new; Snart – Lenny – could drive a saint to violence.
Rather than chancing violence by letting himself be baited by Lenny, Barry walked over to Mick. Who, he saw when he got close enough, was looking at marriage records. Barry and Iris' marriage records.
The bottom dropped out of Barry's stomach, and he almost didn't recognize his own voice when he snapped, "Gideon, shut it off."
The console went black.
"What the fuck?" Mick snarled, pounding his fist on the console, then glaring up at the ceiling. "Since when've ya listened t' sum'un other'n me?"
"Creator trumps captain," Barry informed him flatly, and the wide-eyed stare from Mick and the surprised noise from Lenny was actually kind of satisfying. "Learned that trick against the Reverse-Flash."
"Excellent use of your power over future technology," Lenny said.
Barry rolled his eyes and Mick's mouth twitched, like he was maybe debating a smile. Which was familiar and comforting, and Barry sort of hated that he was about to ruin it. But still, he had to know: "Mick," he said, forcing his voice to remain even, "do you want me to marry Iris? Shut up, Snart," he added, hopefully preempting any commentary from the smartass peanut gallery.
Mick went tense and hunched, and Barry half expected him to reach up and rub at his chest, because that body language usually meant he was thinking about Lenny. But he didn't, instead choosing to look away, towards the blank console. "I know that history–"
"We literally just rewrote history," Barry pointed out, motioning towards where Lenny was being suspiciously silent in his chair. "Anyway, weren't you the one who said something about that explosion stopping the pigs who were taking away the will of time?"
Mick jerked and turned a startled stare on Barry. "That's different," he said, but he didn't sound like he believed his own words.
"Mick," Barry said quietly, "what do you want?" Because he wasn't going to stick around if Mick didn't want him there. No matter what Iris thought about the inevitability of soulmates, or how certain Lenny seemed to be that Barry would be wanted by both him and Mick.
"No," Mick said, sounding a little like it was a struggle to get the words out. "I dun want ya marryin' her."
"Then I'll stay."
"Didn't I say?" Lenny said in an irritatingly superior tone.
"Shut up, Lenny," Mick ordered, before giving Barry an uncertain look that made his chest ache. "Ya sure?"
Barry swallowed and somehow managed a careless shrug. "I mean, I need to get back to Central eventually, because I can't just leave without warning–"
"Yes, let's avoid that," Lenny said with a world of meaning in his voice.
"We've been ta few futures where you weren't," Mick explained, clearly reading Barry's curiosity. And then he and Lenny shared a look that seemed to speak volumes, though Barry lacked the translation guide, or whatever.
"I...honestly don't know how to explain this to my friends," Barry added. He was pretty sure Cisco and Caitlin would be okay with it – they at least already knew he had a bad habit of trusting Lenny when he probably shouldn't, and Cisco had that weird sort of wish-I-could-date-you thing with Lisa – and probably Felicity. And Iris would be delighted, once she got past the criminals bit. But Joe and Oliver would be...
Well. Barry wondered how long he could keep who his soulmates were from certain people who were more likely to shoot first. Maybe he could ask Ray or Sara to help him break the news to Oliver? They'd at least travelled with the pair long enough to figure out they weren't completely irredeemable. And Iris would help with Joe. Probably.
Lenny, of course, let out a loud, mean laugh. "This is going to be fun."
"I should let Oliver shoot you," Barry threatened.
"Probably," Mick muttered.
Lenny snorted and rose from the chair in what looked to be a practiced, but no less attractive, languid stretch. "Queen will keep. For the moment, I've just come from almost being blown up, so I'm going to take a shower and find the bed. Which, hm, apparently there's only one of." He shot Mick a pointed look, then turned and strode from the bridge.
"Ananke were only meant ta have one long-term crew," Mick muttered, looking at one of the consoles instead of at Barry. "Bed's big 'nough fer three, but I c'n get Gideon t' make a cot 'r sum'thin', if ya'd ruther."
"How many times have we fallen asleep in the same bed?" Barry had to ask, because he'd taken to either pulling Mick down to sleep in his bed, or crawling over to his bed to sleep there after one of his nightmares. Because there was something about being in the same bed that had made it possible for him to get back to sleep, when usually he'd have been awake for the rest of the night.
"That's different," Mick muttered.
"Oh for–" Barry huffed, then took a page out of Lenny's rule book – probably not something he should do too often – and stepped into Mick's personal space, leaning up to kiss him.
As soothing as Lenny's kiss had been, Mick's wasn't, especially once he'd stopped standing stiff in shock and started kissing Barry back, one hand catching in his hair and pulling. It felt a little like running into a burning building; so very hot and with an edge of danger, but knowing he would make it through safe.
"Shoulda done that sooner," Mick gasped against his mouth, and Barry laughed and kissed him again, because they'd probably have avoided a lot of angst if they'd got some things out of the way before saving Lenny.
But, then again, maybe they wouldn't have.
He didn't suppose it really mattered, in the end.
"Mr Snart would like me to remind you both that he's waiting," Gideon informed them.
Mick snorted and Barry laughed and they turned to go find their absent third before he resorted to something more obnoxious than having Gideon pass messages.
One || Two || Three ||
Epilogue
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