#why the fuck does hypoglycemia do that though it literally just says

[many-gay-magpies]

i want to go back to sleep but my blood is not sugaring

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 18 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

Barry is watching TV.

Yes, damnit, his boyfriend who he's in love with just left him (rightfully) over crimes he didn't even realize he was committing, he's having to rethink his entire system of morality because clearly the current version isn't up to the task, his foster-dad just got arrested, his new friends aren't talking to him because they're too busy scrambling as the police raid their apartments, he hasn't heard anything from Iris, the man who killed his mom and is probably a Family hitman is still at large and he's way too depressed to do anything about it -

But at least Mel and Sue sure are enjoying stealing bites from those yummy-looking biscuits that are probably a bit under-proofed.

Barry's life might be falling apart, but The Great British Bake-Off will never hurt him.

...yeah, things are bad.

Barry concedes this, but he also has no idea what he can do about it, so he's just going to sit here and watch television at regular speed like a normal person and, he’s not sure, maybe hold out hope for a sign from above or something.

"Barry!" Iris shouts, bursting in through his apartment door, closely followed by -

"Len?" Barry yelps, sitting straight up and disappearing into his room to put on something slightly sexier than his beloved oversized 'Runaway Dinosaur' shirt and shorts set that Iris got him years ago as a joke.

He reappears a second later in sweatpants and a button-down, which will just have to do because apparently that's all he has that's clean right now.

Len is here.

Len is -

Len is stealing a spoonful of Barry's Phish Food ice cream that he’s been eating instead of lunch.

"Hey!" Barry exclaims.

"Seriously?" Iris says, crossing her arms.

"I need sugar," Len says primly. "Hypoglycemia is a serious issue."

Iris rolls her eyes.

Len's smirk fades. "Barry, we need your help."

"What happened?" Barry asks at once. Len wouldn't be here for anything less than an absolute crisis - that much was painfully clear by the way things were left between them, with Len rushing out of STAR Labs, pale-faced, and the police showing up to talk to everyone the next day.

So whatever happened must have been serious.

"Wells took Eddie," Iris says. "And Mick."

"I - Wells?"

"You remember how Ramon theorized that Wells actually was the Man in Yellow rather than simply employing him?" Len asks, looking grim. "We've just confirmed that."

Crap. It’s not that Barry didn’t trust Cisco – even though it is sort of weird that he remembers the day-lost-to-time-travel when no one else does – but the idea of Wells being the Man in Yellow...

Barry’d always thought of Wells as being incredibly kind. A mentor. A trusted friend.

Turns out that was a lie from the very beginning.

"He was blurring his features at first, so we weren’t sure about it at first," Iris says, preempting the question Barry was about to ask. "But he stopped doing that after Len shot him in the face with the cold gun."

After Len –

What?!

"You shot Wells in the face with the cold gun?! Wells? Professor Harrison Wells?"

"In my defense, he was A, about to kill us all and B, not recognizable as Wells at the time," Len says dryly. "But yeah, I shot him, Iris and Thawne ran, and then he -"

Len's voice cuts off suddenly, and he closes his eyes briefly in undisguised pain.

Barry’s never seen him react to anything like that. Not anything except –

Except Mick.

His best friend. His Iris.

Barry's chest hurts, seeing Len suffer like this. Even after everything Len did, to him and to his friends, even after all the chaos and disaster that's happened...

He's still desperately in love with the man.

"He took Eddie and Mick and disappeared," Iris says, brutal in her practicality. There are tears shining in her eyes, tear-tracks still on her face, but she’s clearly moved beyond the point of crying. She’s on the warpath, and Barry knows exactly how dangerous an enraged Iris West can be. "We still don't know why he only took them -"

"I can only carry two people at top speed," Barry says. "I get stronger when I’m running, I can carry more weight than a normal person, but just as a practical matter I still only have two arms. If he's the same as me -"

"Why not just kill Snart, though?" Iris asks. "He was literally right there."

"Why run up and show me that he's still around, just to rub my face in the fact that he's faster?" Barry asks, feeling bitter. He knows why, now: because he tried to do something, anything, other than running faster and faster. He dared argue back, dared to stand up to Wells over wanting to focus on his work as a CSI, and he’d thought that Wells had accepted it. Sure, maybe not in good grace, but accepted it. Instead, Wells had just decided to dangle the Man in Yellow in front of him like a cat toy – here, have a prize, all you need to do is jump a little bit higher, run a little bit faster and you’ll get it. And it worked, too. "If we know anything about him, it's that he likes to play with people. Ruin their lives. You hurt him; he wants to hurt you. Just killing you wouldn’t be enough – he wants you to suffer."

"That'd explain why he'd take Mick," Len says quietly, his voice heavy. "But - why Thawne? Wouldn't Iris be a better target, if he's ultimately aiming at you?"

"Probably," Barry says, frowning. "I honestly have no clue why he'd take Eddie. Unless -"

"Unless what?" Iris asks.

Barry winces. "Hopefully nothing," he says. "But, it's just - okay, this is kind of weird, but, you see, if anything, trying to get me and Iris together was just about the only thing other than me getting faster that Wells cared about."

“Ugh, seriously?” Iris says. “Sorry, Bar, I love you, you know that, but I am just so sick and tired of people trying to make my romantic decisions for me.”

“No, I know, I got the message,” Barry says, smiling crookedly at her. He’s surprised – it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, hearing Iris blithely dismiss the possibility of the two of them together.

He’s finally accepted it. He’s finally gotten over Iris.

And all it took to do it was to fall in love with a man who broke his heart, and Barry can't even blame him for it.

"First he targets your mom, then he targets you, and now your love life...sounds like you've got a stalker," Len says. "A creepy, obsessed stalker that moves at super-speed."

"Seems like it," Barry says, making a face.

"You have to help us figure out what happened, Bar," Iris says. "If the three of us work together, we can find Eddie and Mick, stop Wells, and make sure the Families don't get away with - with whatever it is they're up to!"

Barry looks at Len, who isn't looking at him. "I don't mind helping," he says. "If - Len..?"

"We're not okay," Len says abruptly. "We're not. You still...what you did...Listen, I know I might’ve - reacted in a rather extreme way, yes, but -"

"You were right," Barry says, interrupting. "You were totally right. What we were doing was wrong, and the fact that Wells was encouraging all of us not to think about it is no excuse at all. We're all adults. We should accept the consequences of our actions."

Len seems - surprised, almost. Like he thought Barry would try to defend himself, or deflect, or make excuses.

Barry won't.

For once in his life, he won't run.

It's the ethical thing to do. It's the sort of thing that someone - that someone Len could be proud of would do.

The sort of someone Barry wants to be.

Len nods, slowly. "Okay," he says. "Let's work together. Let's figure this out." Then he wrinkles his nose. "Fuck, I hate mysteries."

"You're a detective!" Iris exclaims.

Barry snickers. He can't help it: her face is just so hilariously offended.

"I became a cop because I like justice," Len tells her crossly. "Not because I like mysteries. Mysteries are pests; they get in the way of justice."

God, Len's so damn cute it hurts sometimes.

Mostly because Barry had that, and then lost it.

"Anyway, back to the main issue," Len says. "We don’t have much time –”

“We don’t? Wait, have we figured out what the Families are doing?”

“No, not quite,” Iris says. “But Eddie and I figured out that the Familes' ‘big day’ is going to go down on Election Day.”

“Wait, Election Day? That’s tomorrow!”

“We know,” Len says dryly. “Iris, go to the precinct and find Danvers. Get her up to date and keep going on that Zoom Contracting company, find out where that money is coming from, including whether its income is all Family money, and if so which Family. Check if some of it comes from somewhere else, too – and if it’s paid out any money recently. Bribes, specifically."

"Ask Terri to help you," Barry interjects. "They're a CSI, over at the lab; they're the best forensic accountant in the state."

"Do that," Len agrees. "Danvers also knows my passcode for the cardboard brigade, squeeze 'em for everything you can get. I want to know what’s going on, where, when, how, and right now Wells is our best lead on that. Throw away all discretion; go at it with both barrels. In the meantime, Barry and I'll follow up on the Dibny angle -"

"Wait, Dibny?" Iris asks. "That guy Barry hated so much?"

"Yeah, him," Barry says. "We think he might be acting - or being used, anyway - as a go-between to send messages from Family to corrupt cops. I'm sorry, I don't think I mentioned him to you before – it wasn’t on purpose, I wasn’t hiding it –"

"No, no, it's not that," she says, frowning in thought. "You definitely didn't mention it, but it’s weird. I swear I heard his name recently.”

“You heard his name?” Barry asks, surprised. “Where? Who in the world would be talking about him?”

“They were angry,” Iris says, her nose scrunched up in thought, trying to pull out the memory.

“Not at the CCPD, then,” Len says. “They tend to be angrier at the people doing the prosecuting than the cops doing the cheating. Think about the context of the memory – where have you been in the last few days?”

“God, I don’t know,” she says. “I haven’t been doing anything but police stuff the last few days – I’m staying with Eddie, Wally’s with us, but it wasn’t either of them. And other than the precinct, the only place I’ve been...wait, I know!”

“Well?”

“It was when Eddie and I were doing research in the mayor’s office,” Iris says. “Those dusty old archives – we’d gone to look for more on Zoom Contracting, complaints, records, anything. It was our first stop.”

“The fact that it’s a good place to make out had nothing to do with that being your first stop,” Len says, sounding amused.

“We just got engaged, we’re allowed to prioritize for things like that,” Iris says primly. “But seriously, I remember it now –someone mentioned his name in an angry voice as they walked by the archives room. I remember thinking about how hearing it would’ve made Barry start up his usual rant again if he’d been there.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“The weird thing is, though,” she continues, frowning , “that particular area’s restricted – Eddie only got us in by flashing his badge around. The only people around would’ve been the mayor and his staff. Barry, does this Dibny guy have any connection to the mayor?"

"The mayor? No, I don't -" Barry pauses.

That's not quite right, though, is it? When he'd gone over to see Dibny, asking about corruption cases, Dibny initially thought he was looking for stuff about blackmail, and then he’d hidden a folder -

And he'd asked about the mayor.

It clicks.

"Holy crap, guys," Barry says. "I think Dibny might be blackmailing the mayor."

"...well, then," Len says after a long moment, his expression rather perturbed. "Think we'd better go talk to him, then, don't you think?"

"Have fun with that, boys," Iris says, rolling her eyes and heading out the door.

Leaving them alone. Together.

It's suddenly awkward in a way it's never been for them before, the air in the room suddenly fraught with tension.

God, Len is so beautiful - beautiful and right and not Barry's.

And it’s all Barry’s fault.

"Okay," Barry says, breaking the silence. "Want me to run us to Dibny's office? Will you be okay?"

"Haven't torn anything recently," Len says with a shrug, because he’s an idiot who doesn’t take proper care of himself. Barry wants to chastise him, but he can’t; he knows he can’t. Len’s not his to worry about anymore. "So I'll manage. But –”

“But?”

“Maybe put on something slightly more formal first?"

A few super-speed seconds of digging uncover a better set of pants that are clean enough, and then they're off.

The hallway to Dibny's office is just as grubby as Barry remembers it, though luckily free of Family members.

Len seems unperturbed by their shabby surroundings, but then again his accent makes it clear that he grew up in slums far worse than this neighborhood.

God. Barry wants to ask him about it – about his past, about growing up in the slum, about everything. Was this like what you knew when you were a kid? Better? Worse? How have things changed? Does it hurt you to come here? Or does it feel like climbing back into your worst old rattiest set of pajamas, like coming home even though you know intellectually that it’s awful?

Barry thought he’d have all the time in the world to ask those questions.

Those questions, and more.

He’d dreamed, soft and secret and deep down where he wouldn’t tell anyone about it, that he’d have a whole lifetime to ask those questions.

But no.

Just because Barry’s in love with Len doesn’t mean – doesn’t mean Len feels the same way.

All hope of that’d been extinguished right alongside his trust in Barry.

At least Barry has this much: Len still trusts him enough to work with him. A colleague, an ally, maybe even – one day – a friend again.

It’s not what Barry wants, not at all; he wants so much more than that. But if this is all Barry can get, then he’ll take it and he’ll never let it go.

He’ll be the sort of man that Len deserves to have as a friend.

"Any thoughts before we go in?" Barry asks.

"You know Dibny better than me," Len says. "I don’t think I know him at all – he joined the force well after the point where I was officially not on talking terms with any cops except org crime’s undercover people, and he was gone before I got back. You take the lead to start; I’ll jump in if there’s anything I feel I need to add."

Barry nods.

Dibny doesn't do the pretentious chair-swirl when Barry walks in this time, just startles a bit from where he's standing by the window. He has a view of the street, so he's probably just surprised that he didn't see them coming into the building. That seems like the sort of paranoid thing that Dibny would do, watch the street like a creep for oncoming visitors.

Though in this neighborhood, maybe it’s less paranoia and more of a reasonable precaution…

"Allen," Dibny says blankly.

Then, a second later, his overly-facile face splits into a truly nasty smirk. "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Heard you got yourself suspended, Allen – suspended pending investigation – possibly going to get fired –"

"That isn't important," Barry says impatiently. Yes, there’s a better-than-decent chance he’ll lose his job, maybe even go to jail – unlikely, but only because the CCPD hates imprisoning its own people, and they definitely don’t want to re-open all the cases Barry’s worked on as a CSI. Yes, he knows that’s extremely unfair, but he also knows that’s probably how it’s going to turn out. Yes, Barry’s extremely upset about it, since being a CSI isn’t just a job he got to pay the bills, it’s a job he got because he loves the work, but it doesn’t matter. They have the Families to deal with – they have Wells to deal with. He doesn't have time for a stupid rivalry-driven ‘I told you so’ from Dibny of all people. "I need you to tell me everything you know about what the Families have planned."

Dibny's eyes flicker and he flinches, just the slightest bit.

He knows something!

"I don't know anything," he says.

Ugh.

Barry hates this guy.

"We know about what you're doing with the mayor, Dibny," Barry says, crossing his arms. "And we know that messages between the Families and the corrupt people on the police force are being passed through here."

"They are not," Dibny says, mirroring Barry. "And even if they were, or even if you did know anything about the mayor that might interest me, what's it to you? I don't have to tell you anything. You're not even a real cop – and anyway you're suspended!"

"Oddly enough," Len drawls from where he's hanging back by the door, "that's why I came along."

Dibny twists to look at Len for the first time, scowling. "Who the hell are you?"

"A cop," Len says dryly. "Who's not suspended."

"Yeah, right," Dibny says dismissively. "I know all the cops, every one of them, no matter where or who; it's practically my superpower. And I don't know you, which means you're not a cop."

Len's eyebrows go up as Dibny speaks, his expression incredulous.

Barry can’t blame him – all this time and fuss about people finding out that he’s a cop, and he finally tells someone who doesn’t know and they don’t believe him?

Weird.

Len balances his weight on his crutches and reaches into his pocket – actions slow and steady, the way you would around someone who might be afraid you’re pulling a gun – and he pulls out his ID. He's holding it awkwardly, suggesting that he's not yet accustomed to being called upon to show it to people.

Probably because he doesn't actually bother arresting non-police people for stuff, and all the police already know who he is.

It’s definitely a real ID, though, and Dibny’s an ex-cop; he’ll recognize that much.

"As you can see," Len says, waving the ID around a bit. "I am, in fact, a cop. Captain Leonard Snart, at your service."

Dibny goes dead white.

Barry wasn't expecting that. Judging by the surprised tilt of Len's head, neither was he, though he's probably hiding his reaction better than Barry is.

"And it's clear you've heard my name before," Len observes.

"I - er - that is - there isn't - aren't you dead?"

"Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," Len says, starting to frown. "Who told you about me, anyway? Your friends at the precinct wouldn't have any reason to mention me – and certainly not by name."

"Uh, no, that is – I mean – they don't – I didn't - "

"Oh, but you did, didn't you," Len says, his voice dropping into that calm, cool voice he gets when he's really pissed off. "That's why you were hoping I was dead, wasn't it?"

Barry looks between Len and Dibny, confused. Len was calm three seconds ago, and now he’s suddenly furious? Just because Dibny knew his name?

He knows that Len’s super upset about what happened with Mick, but this reaction seems outsized even for a particularly emotional Len.

So it has to be something Dibny said. But what?

"I don't get it," he says hesitantly. He doesn’t really want to get in between Len and Dibny right now; Len is really glaring death at the guy. Not that Barry objects, of course, if you’d asked him how he’d rank Len trying to murder Ralph Dibny with his eyes as a mental image, he’d probably have put it somewhere in his top twenty most wanted – but he doesn’t like being out of the loop. "What did he do?"

"'I know all the cops,'" Len mimics Dibny, his voice hard. "'It's practically my superpower.' Really is, isn't it? And it's one you've had for a while now, ain't it, Dibny? For quite a while now."

He takes a few steps forward, his crutch making an ominous thudding noise as he moves.

Dibny flinches away before him, scrabbling backwards towards his desk, then past it, to the window – backing up until he can’t back away any more.

"And you like to talk, don't you, Dibny?" Len continues, his expression more actively malevolent than Barry's ever seen it. "You like to talk about your little 'superpower' - maybe even show off a little -"

"I had to!" Dibny bursts out. "I had no choice! You don’t understand! I'd gotten fired from the force, thanks to Barry here, and after the first year or two, I realized that my private investigation business wasn't paying the bills - people didn't believe I had what it took to get them what they needed – I needed to show them –"

"Oh, and I bet you showed them all right," Len says. "Only way to build your new business, wasn’t it? Your new business selling information. But people don’t just agree to let people be information brokers – oh no – you have to give them a little taste of what you can offer – a freebie – something you know that no one else does, something valuable, something you don’t really care too much about – and that’s just what you did –"

"I didn't have a choice! They wouldn't have believed me about anything if I didn't know things! Secret things! Cop things!"

"Like the identity of one of Central's undercover cops," Len says, and suddenly Barry gets it.

"You did it?" he exclaims, horrified. He’s never liked Dibny at the best of times, but it’d never even occurred to him as a possibility. It should have, he realizes that now – Dibny’d all but told him when they talked, all his boasting about information and friends in the precinct and things that he knew because he cozied up to people while calling Barry an anti-social idiot. He’d learned things, all right; things like Len’s name, things like what Len did. An undercover cop. Yes, that was the perfect bit of information to sell out to show that you meant business – as long as you didn’t care what happened to the guy you spilled the beans on. "You're the one who leaked Len's identity to the Families? You got him tortured and shot and his best friend nearly murdered - to drum up more business?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds kinda bad -"

Len takes another step forward. His face is very, very level, very calm. His eyes are not.

"Oh God please don't kill me!" Dibny yelps.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now,” Len says conversationally. “I've had some things to say to you, you see. Now, while I wasn’t expecting you to just drop into my lap, I’m not one to say no when an opportunity presents itself...”

He takes another step, his hand dropping down to the cold gun by his side.

The one that’s fatal to normal people.

Barry takes a step forward, concerned. "Len, listen, I know you're angry, but you're an ethical guy, okay?" he says, holding out his hands. "You don't want to do this. You'd have to turn in your badge and arrest yourself. Let's just arrest him instead, okay? Nice and legal. Okay?"

Another step.

Len's not listening. Of course he's not; this is the man who destroyed his life, destroyed Mick's life, the man responsible for everything that’s gone wrong since the beginning.

The man Len's been hunting all this time.

The man Captain Cold has been hunting all this time.

"Listen to Allen, please, just arrest me, don’t let him kill me," Dibny babbles. "Listen, Snart, you - you don't want to do this, really! I know things, I know lots of things - I know what the Families are up to, I can tell you that, you want that, right, and in exchange you give me immunity for the leak -"

"No," Len says firmly, and that's about when Barry realizes that Len is totally playing Dibney right now. His voice is intimidating, yes, but he's not about to cross the lines he's set for himself. He's just dealing with the fact that they have an incipient crisis on their hands and Dibny is withholding information that could mean life or death for their city. "No deal. You talk, you talk now, and maybe, if your intel's good enough, I'll arrest you."

"What good's that do me?" Dibny protests. “You’re going to arrest me anyway!”

Len bares his teeth. "Well, alternatively, other option's that I don't listen to Barry here and I don’t arrest you. You don’t want that option. Trust me."

"Oh," Dibny squeaks, his voice suddenly gone higher-pitched. "Right. In that option I die, right?"

"No," Len says. "In that option I call up the CCPD, tell all your buddies that you're a would-be cop-killer, and have them arrest you."

"...shit."

"Limited time offer," Len says. "Talk. Now."

"Listen, as a preliminary thing, I want to be clear that I've got nothing to do with the Families," Dibny says. "I don't! I've never worked with them, I've never dealt with them; at most some of their thugs come by and do some stuff down the hall, that's it. I'm not involved!"

"Yeah, right," Barry says with a snort. "You're not blackmailing the mayor for them?"

"I wouldn't! Not for the Families!" Dibny exclaims. "I'm not a Family cop, you know; I never was. And it's not much blackmail, not really, just some pictures of him cheating that he doesn’t want to get out so close to Election Day - and I really only do it when my landlord suddenly demands I pay the back rent -"

"Of course," Barry says with a sigh, figuring it out. It makes sense. Why involve more people than you have to? "If you’re doing it that predictably enough, then they don't actually need you to be involved. If they know that you're blackmailing the mayor, then they can blackmail him with the fact that he's being blackmailed - and since they almost certainly either own the building or have something on your landlord, they can control when you press him. You're just an unwitting tool."

"Yes! Exactly! Unwitting! That means I'm not working for the Families!"

"I'll grant you that much, sure," Len says with a sneer. He looks at Dibny like he’s something he just stepped in. "But that doesn't change the fact that you fancy yourself some sorta information broker. Well, give us the information, now, or else you'll be the one who's broken."

Barry will not laugh. Barry will not laugh.

Barry cannot believe Len actually just made that pun.

More to the point, he can't believe it could possibly work as a threat, except apparently it does because Dibny starts talking.

"It's the fact that they're failing," Dibny says, voice hushed as if to convey the importance of the information he’s telling them – or possibly just afraid someone will overhear them. "The Families - between your undercover work and the Feds' inroads, their power is in serious decline. They're too risky. No one wants to work for them and get killed. And if they can't get people to work for them, fear them, things like that - well, with that gone, they don't have as much influence over anything. They want that influence back, and they have a plan to get it."

“Stop running out the time,” Len says, his eyes flickering very briefly to Barry, who wants to kick him and kiss him at the same time. Now is not the time for puns! “What’s the plan?”

“They’ve got a deal set up,” Dibny says. “A big one. The biggest deal. I don’t know how, but they’ve managed to get in contact with the military –”

“The military?” Barry exclaims, alarmed. Sure, he's had some brief encounters with them – after Bette Sans Souci died, her meta powers turning inwards to kill her – but he’d forgotten about them right afterwards.

It’d never seemed like a big deal, and Wells had dismissed all of their concerns.

Wells.

Of course.

If he’s in on this whole deal with the Families – and he has to be – then of course he’d make sure they didn’t think too much about the local military, the ones who thought it was a good idea to take someone with meta powers they barely understood and try to use her as a weapon.

Not unlike what Wells was trying to groom Barry into.

God, he was such an idiot.

“The local guy, Eiling; all reports say that he’s a nutcase,” Dibny says. “Military, yeah, but he’s involved in all sorts of weird science stuff, too. Normally the Families don’t go anywhere near military stuff in the best of times – they know when they’re outgunned – but somehow one of their people got in contact with the military and started brokering a deal –”

“Someone legit,” Len murmurs. “Trustworthy. A prominent scientist with military connections, maybe.”

Wells.

It has to be.

“So that’s the deal,” Dibny says. “The Families are going to supply the military with all the black market goods they want – including people to experiment on, especially people who’ve been affected by the Accelerator explosion – and the military’s going to feed them back enough military-grade guns and cash that they’re going to be able to run this city the way they used to.”

“Shit,” Barry says with feeling. There’s no other word for it. Especially if Wells planned the whole time to throw the metas he'd had Barry capture in as part of the deal...things are just getting worse and worse.

“The military money’s going to get laundered through city government, but it’s going to go to all the corrupt guys – there’ll be enough to go around,” Dibny continues. “That’s helping them get it through, but it’s not enough, they’re needing to pull out all the stops to make sure no one blows this deal up. They’ve got pressure on politicians no one even suspected they had pressure on, to get this whole deal moving – we’re not just talking the mayor; we’re talking the governor, we’re talking the cops –”

“The Commissioner?” Len asks.

“Probably, I don’t know,” Dibny says with a helpless shrug. “The thing is, they can’t just make this deal and be done with it – they know the military’ll just wash their hands of them the second any of it comes to light. So they came up with this plan to make sure that no one’ll be able to back out at the last second: an actual deal, signed on paper, with a videotape of the signing. All the big guys in the city with their names on one document –”

“Making sure they don’t back out – after all, if they don’t hang together, they’ll most definitely hang separately,” Len says.

“Seriously, Len?” Barry says.

“What?” Dibny asks. “Wait, was that a musical quote? 1776?”

“It’s a Benjamin Franklin quote,” Barry says. “Still sort of inappropriate.”

“To be fair, I was in fact quoting the musical, and anyway it’s entirely appropriate because after a certain point it’s gotta be either laughter or tears and I don’t got time for the latter,” Len says. “That’s why this is on Election Day, isn’t it? Because everyone in the state’s gonna be in Central and no one’s gonna question it – and all of that talk about logistics, that’s the Families working out how to escort all the relevant people to this big meet-up without anyone noticing that all the bigwigs in town are all gone at the same exact time.”

“Exactly,” Dibny says.

“If you knew all this, why didn’t you tell someone?” Barry demands.

“Tell who?” Dibny shoots back. “I know they’ve got people in the cops, they’ve got people in the government, they’ve got judges, DAs, everything, and to be perfectly honest I don’t exactly want to go up against the Families, okay?! People who do that get shot!”

“Not as much as they used to,” Len says. “A situation that they’re now trying to reverse. Barry, we’re leaving.”

“Wait, what?” Dibny exclaims. “You’re just – leaving?”

“Do you have any more information?” Len asks. “Like where they’re going to meet to do the signing?”

“Uh, no, that’s all I know.”

“That’s what I thought. Since unlike you we intend to actually do something about this, we’re leaving.”

“But what are you going to do about me?” Dibny protests.

“Of course,” Barry hisses. “Always thinking about yourself –”

“Yeah, well, ‘myself’ seems pretty damn important right about now! I just blabbed on the Families to the cops! I want protection! I want to be surrounded by cops! I want -”

“Fine,” Len says.

“– to be...wait, really?” Dibny looks incredulous at Len’s agreement.

Barry can’t blame him; he’s feeling pretty incredulous himself. Dibny gets police protection? For that?

“Oh, absolutely,” Len says. “You should go to the CCPD right now. Or better yet, get any trustworthy friends you can find and then go to the CCPD. They’re going to need all hands on deck pretty soon.”

Dibny blinks. Barry blinks.

Len shakes his head at both of them, his expression gone grim.

“This is Central City,” he says. “The Families walk the line, remember? Everyone knows they’re there, but everyone that our city thinks is important thinks they’re not going to be affected personally by it. Oh, sure, there’s some corrupt cops, some corrupt politicos, anyone elected out of a slum district, we all know that, but we shrug it off because it’s just how Central City works – and anyway, we know who they are, so we can just avoid them.”

“But that’s not what this is,” Barry says, a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. “This is – this is corruption on an unimaginable scale. This is everybody finding out that everything is a lie: their democracy, their police, their laws...”

“People are going to riot,” Dibny says, his face pale. “The whole city's going to go totally fucking crazy.”

“Yeah,” Len says. “They are. And once I call the Feds to come in, the Families are going to lash out like the cornered rats they are.”

“You can’t do that,” Dibny hisses. “If you bring in the Feds, it’ll be absolute chaos –”

“There’s no choice,” Len says. “You want to be surrounded by police? Go to the CCPD and help out. You want to hide in your basement until it’s all over? Do that, if that’s what you want to. Barry?”

“Right. Leaving.”

Barry follows Len out the door, sliding it shut behind him so that Dibny, standing in his office and gaping at them, won’t see him run at superspeed once they get to the end of the hallway.

Once outside, though, he looks at Len. “He’s right, you know,” he says. “There’ll be riots, and it’ll only be worse if the Feds come in. If the Families think they’re dealing with some sort of existential crisis, they’ll pull out all the stops to protect themselves. Every person they have pressure on, every person who’s ever taken an unwise loan, every shopkeeper that ever paid them protection money...they’ll call them all in to fight for them.”

“I know,” Len says. “But we have to stop them from making this deal. And if the CCPD’s compromised, it has to be the Feds.”

“They’ll make a mess of things.”

“Probably,” Len agrees. “I know a bunch of them, though; worked closely with them. They trust me. If I say they have to work with the CCPD – the good, not-corrupt parts of the CCPD – they’ll bitch and whine but they’ll do it.”

Barry nods. “And it’s better than the Families,” he says, thinking back to his dad’s stories of the older days, when he was a kid, back when Central City had been a real Family haven. Murders on the train lines, police looking the other way except for when the ones on the take were assaulting people who tried to fight back against Family influence, drugs sold openly on street corners, violence and crime everywhere...

They can’t let that happen.

“I’ll call my guys,” Len says, pulling out his phone. “You call Iris. We need to make this public.”

“Public? The riots –”

“I know,” Len says grimly. “Publicizing it will only make the riots happen faster. I know. I’m planning for it.”

“Planning – but why?”

“Because we don’t have time to do otherwise. Even if I call the Feds, mobilization takes forever and Election Day’s tomorrow. As it is, the Feds won’t be able to pull in enough guys to properly fight the Families at full force. We need the citizens of Central City – even if the only thing they can do is create such a mess that no one in the Families will be able to escape.”

Barry swallows hard, imagining his beautiful city in flames, knowing that these types of riots can kill people, but he nods. There’s no other way of stopping the Families. The people have to know.

The people have a right to know.

“One last thing,” he says hesitantly.

Len raises his eyebrows. He’s already dialing.

“The Feds can do a lot,” Barry says, then swallows. “But they can’t defeat the Reverse Flash.”

No one can.

Not even Barry.

He’s not fast enough. But if the Reverse Flash is Wells, then maybe he was never going to be.

But Barry’s the only one who even stands a chance.

He has to try.

Len pauses, considering.

“You’re right,” he says after a long moment. “They can’t. They’re not equipped for something like that; he’ll plow right through them.”

Barry winces.

Another moment of silence.

“Okay,” Len finally says. “Okay. After we alert the Feds and Iris, you and I, we’ll go stop him ourselves.”

“Ourselves? But we don’t even know where he is!”

“Of course we do,” Len says. “Now that I’ve had a moment to think about it, it’s obvious. I know where he’s hiding, and I know where he’s keeping Thawne and Mick.”

“Where?”

“STAR Labs,” Len says. “Right in the part that was hand-made – literally – by Zoom Contracting.”

Hand-made by Wells.

By the Reverse Flash.

By the Man in Yellow.

Of course.

“I know just where to go,” Barry says.

[dreamsinkandcoffee]

An Italian in Amsterdam: a summary

"I already know that Dutch people bike a lot! I'll just be very careful about the bycicle lanes!" *three months later* "ABORT ABORT I DON'T WANT TO DIE."

Let's count how many people I almost killed because I crossed the street at the wrong time.

I am 99% sure that you CANNOT do that even if you are on a bike.

Please forbid tourists from biking.

"ANOTHER ITALIAN TOURIST?! STOP IT! STAY IN ITALY! EAT PASTA!" "You are Italian." "THAT'S EXACTLY WHY I AM BOTHERED."

You are short and will watch at least one person a day straight in the crotch and you cannot do anything about it but wear heels.

You know you did something weird because everybody is looking at you like you just got naked in the room. Good luck figuring what it is you shameful Italian.

Cheese.

"I am openminded, I won't miss Italian food." *one week later* "I WOULD /KILL/ FOR MY MOM'S LASAGNA."

Rain is not really rain. If it rains only a bit, it isn't rain. Umbrellas are for the weak. It's not wind if it doesn't make you walk bent on one side.

"I LOST MY PHONE IN THE FUCKING REIN."

You are on the rich side of Europe and EVERYTHING around will remind you of that.

"6,50€ FOR A BOTTLE OF WATER?!"

*at the supermarket* "Why is this tomato so round and pretty?" *at home* "You are ugly inside."

Birbs. Of all kinds. One day I'll see a flamingo cross the street and won't even blink.

When you go back home, suddenly everybody is screaming and you realize that Italians are LOUD.

Let's play "Am I being polite, annoying or obnoxious by Dutch standard?"

HOW DO I GREET PEOPLE WITHOUT CHEEK KISSES SOMEBODY EXPLAIN IT TO ME.

"Rotterdam is so pret-" "ROTTERDAM IS /SHIT/."

The collective GASP when I say I can't bike nor swim.

"Do you miss Italy?" *crying to the music of 'Va' pensiero' in class* "... nnnno?"

I am sorry I am screaming alone in the street I swear at home it's considered kinda normal.

Italian tourists thinking I am Dutch and making comments freely around me until I drop the bomb of "Guarda che ti capisco, coglione."

Italian tourists generally thinking nobody here understands Italian when we are quite literally around every corner.

*finds somebody that speaks Italian as a second language* "You are my friend. YOU DON'T HAVE FREEDOM OF CHOICE I SAID WE ARE FRIENDS." *finds another Italian* "STAY AWAY OR THEY'LL THINK WE ONLY TALK TO OTHER ITALIANS."

In the end, somehow, you do speak only to other Italians.

Is highschool education considered low/fake or...? This point needs further examination but somehow if I say I studied it in highschool they look at me weird?

Deadlines.

Words minimum/maximum on papers.

General hate towards deadlines and words count.

Trying to speak Dutch to people and understanding absolutely nothing of what they say.

"That is not a real Italian restaurant" becomes a style of life.

"That is not espresso" also becomes a style of life.

Usually people hate you for said style of life though.

OH MY GOD THINGS ARE ACTUALLY ON TIME??

OH MY GOD YOU ACTUALLY LET ME CROSS THE STREET YOU KIND DRIVER??

Why do you call crepes pancakes?

Ohhh lunch on the channel so cute STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU SEAGULL SPAWN OF SATAN.

Ohhh lunch on the stairs so cute STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU PIDGEON SPAWN OF MEPHISTOPHELES.

Walking around already in winter clothes while people wear FUCKING T-SHIRTS and coming out as the weak ring of the chain.

*first day here* "Why does nobody use cash?!" *after a week* "I will never use cash again in my life this is Heaven."

Bless you guys for not judging me when I got out to eat or to the cinema alone. I love you all.

"Meh, waffles are not so good." She said, before getting addicted to them and dying of hypoglycemia ten minutes later.

The Museumkaart is a blessing.

"Wait, did I just speak Dutch or German?"

Forgetting Italian and spending half an hour staring in the void to remember a word you used to say daily.