Chapter Text
~*~
Leonard's eyes flew open, and he gasped for air that wouldn't come. Light filtered in through the veil that imprisoned him, stained in gold and stinging his skin with pins and needles, as if he'd been asleep. He clawed out, his arms and chest and face covered by a thin layer of something that felt like a second skin. Whatever was covering him like a shroud tore under the force of his fingers, and he feverishly stripped out of it, pulling the veil away from his face until he could breathe.
He sat up, blinking in the dim, yellowish light from a nearby street lamp, and then he rubbed at his arm, frowning when a sticky, viscous substance clung to his fingers. Upon a second look, he realized it was all over him, and he clawed at the film that covered him, shedding it like an old skin. He wasn't in the sewer anymore. Alchemy and his followers were nowhere to be seen. Leonard scrambled away from the mess he'd awakened in, moving until his back hit the brick wall of the building behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and ground the heels of his palms against his eyelids.
He was freezing. The cold radiated off him like steam into the humid night air. His head pounded. His mouth was parched.
"Lisa," he whispered, and memories crashed through him like a tidal wave. He struggled to breathe, trembling as he tried to make sense of what he now knew.
Before his current life—his empty, thankless, miserable life—he'd had Lisa. He'd been a hero in another life, and they'd been happy, right up until the moment when a metahuman had killed her. The bloodthirsty rage Leonard had experienced at her death left him shaken—when he'd killed, he'd done it methodically, only when necessary, and with very little consideration. But now… Now he could remember the burn of bile at the back of his throat, the savage pleasure he'd taken in freezing her murderer limb by limb until he'd lain shattered in pieces on the bank floor.
Before that, though there was more. A fainter memory, none the less real for the distance. Mick. The Vanishing Point. The Oculus.
Three different lifetimes packed his pounding head. Leonard pulled his hands away from his face and flattened his palms against the asphalt as he tried to force his thoughts into some semblance of order. Alchemy had said the Flash had taken something important from him, but Leonard had had no idea. No idea that Barry had taken the only person Leonard had ever loved.
Leonard scrambled onto his hands and knees and vomited, his stomach clenching over and over again, even when there was nothing left to expel. When he finally stopped retching on air, he leaned back and rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, coughing and gasping for air. His breath escaped in a rush of steam, and when he pulled his other hand away from the ground, he heard a small clinking sound. When he looked down, his hand print was on the ground, perfectly outlined in a fine layer of frost. Ice crept upward from his fingertips, inching over his knuckles. Leonard tilted his head and pressed his hand to the brick of the wall next to him, watching as ice spread out from his touch.
He staggered up to his feet, leaving icy hand prints on every surface he touched, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The memories were there, rattling in his head, and he focused on sifting through each lifetime, compartmentalizing what he could. He wouldn't be able to hide anywhere if he was leaving ice behind him like breadcrumbs. He flexed his fingers, and somehow, he could feel the ice retreat, some instinct pulling that familiar power away from the surface. He took one step forward and then another, narrowing his eyes as he looked around one more time.
In the mess of his shed skin, Leonard found his cold gun. His heart pounded with something like relief when he reached down and picked it up, the handle of the gun fitting his palm like it belonged there. Another swift look showed him that he was alone, and for a moment, he wondered about Alchemy, about the catch Leonard was now expecting. Was he alone because he woke up early? Because he failed some unspoken test? Or would this be considered a favor, to be reciprocated at a later time?
And why the hell hadn't he asked those questions before he accepted Alchemy's offer?
Because Alchemy had mentioned the Flash, that was why. Leonard frowned at himself. Pathetic.
He looked down and brushed off his jeans, taking one last moment to steady himself before he headed toward the street light, squinting even in the dimness of the early evening twilight. He was still in Central, and—looking at the street signs—he wasn't more than a mile or two away from one of his safe houses. He needed to find out what date it was, how long he'd been out, find a way to control the ice with more than luck and instinct. He needed to find Lisa.
He didn't trust himself around people at the moment and didn't want to draw attention to himself, so he chose to walk, even though the humid Missouri air made his shirt stick to his skin and his jacket made him a little too hot. There was a newspaper stand on the corner. A glance at the front page told him that he'd lost three days to Alchemy and his magic. He shook his head at his own eager stupidity and continued onward to his safe house. No one stopped him. No one even looked in his direction, and when he finally made it to safety, he locked the door behind him and sank onto his sofa in relief.
Hunger tightened his stomach, but for the moment, he ignored it. He had to get his head figured out first. He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on his interlaced fingers.
In this life, Lisa never existed. In the last life, he'd failed to save her from the Rogues. In the first one… there was no way the Time Masters had gotten their hands on her. Leonard had made sure of that. He hoped. If the rest of the team on the Waverider had done their job, she would have been returned home safely.
The fact that he could remember the first timeline at all must have had something to do with the fact that he'd died outside of time. It was the only explanation he could think of with such little information. Even that annoyed him—being forced to guess because there was no other way to know.
His fingertips started icing over again, and Leonard shook his hands out. He stood, focusing on his first and most immediate problem. He was starving and thirsty. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, frost immediately decorating the surface when he grasped it. He stuck it beneath the faucet of the sink, barely waiting until it was full before he gulped it down. The last mouthful of water turned to slush on his tongue, but fortunately, it was easy enough to swallow. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on his hand, pulling once again from memories of his previous life, and he exhaled a relieved breath when he opened his eyes and discovered that the frost was gone. He'd have to concentrate in order to eat anything hot, so he made himself a sandwich, pausing every time the cold threatened to expand out of him. He could already see the advantages of having both his cold gun and these new powers, if he could only learn the control he needed to keep his abilities a secret.
He managed to eat his sandwich without any problems, although the focused control he held over himself was starting to give him a headache, and then he sat back down on the sofa. With the requirements of his body met, it was easier to think, easier to filter through his memories and piece together those other bizarre lives. Alchemy had said the Flash was responsible for him losing Lisa, but Leonard couldn't figure out how that was possible.
"There is good in you," Barry had said, and Leonard had stored those words in the back of his mind, even though he'd known they weren't true. He was a criminal. He enjoyed stealing, he enjoyed skirting the law. He had only sacrificed himself at the Oculus because he'd owed Mick a debt that he would've never been able to pay otherwise. He hadn't heard from Mick in months. Maybe he was still out there on the Waverider, maybe he'd found his way there without Leonard by his side, and that… that was good. Better for him.
In Leonard's other memories, he'd only seen Barry once or twice, usually from a distance, when Barry was working on a crime scene. He was a good kid.
Leonard frowned and started to piece together a plan. They weren't exactly friendly with each other now, but there was once a time the Flash and his team had helped Leonard save Lisa's life. Lisa had taken a shine to Cisco, and they were heroes. Maybe Barry was involved in whatever had happened that had changed Leonard's memories, but Leonard was sure, down to his core, that Barry would help him save Lisa. It was what heroes did.
~*~
As always, Barry was easy to find. Leonard took his favorite booth in the Motorcar, where he pretended to drink coffee as he watched the police station. He curled his hands around the mug—the coffee froze instantly—and cast his gaze back across the street.
Barry kept odd hours, sometimes leaving early, sometimes staying later, and Leonard imagined it had a great deal to do with his Flash efforts. For someone who could run faster than anything Leonard had ever seen, Barry was notoriously terrible at time management. When Leonard saw the lights in the second floor lab go off, he put money on the table for the coffee and headed out the door.
Barry's face changed when he saw Leonard standing outside the restaurant, his eyes widening in surprise when Leonard inclined his head and skirted around the corner of the building, fully expecting Barry to follow him.
He wasn't disappointed.
When he turned around, Barry was standing behind him, his expression lost somewhere between confusion and delight. "Snart!" Barry edged a step closer to him, and Leonard frowned, effectively freezing Barry into place. "I didn't expect to see you."
"Why would you expect to see me?" Leonard crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he watched Barry.
Barry shifted awkwardly again, wiping his palms on the back of his jeans. "Oliver told me you were with the others in the Waverider. Are you taking a break or—"
"They didn't tell you." He supposed they wouldn't, but for some reason, the thought that Barry knew he was gone but not gone seemed… unfair.
"Tell me what?"
Leonard felt tension uncoil from his shoulders, and he took a deep breath before he dropped his arms. "Nothing, Red. It's not why I'm here."
"What's going on, Snart?" Barry's eyes narrowed and focused on Leonard, as if he were pushing aside his surprise to give Leonard his full attention.
Leonard hated telling anyone anything so bluntly, hated being obviously desperate, so he remained silent, trying to figure out any way he could say something without looking like he needed Barry to believe him. There was something niggling at him, though, and he narrowed his eyes on Barry again. "My sister's gone."
Barry stepped forward like he couldn't stop himself, his eyes widening again in genuine surprise. "Lisa's gone? Like kidnapped or—"
Leonard stalked closer and pushed Barry against the wall, his hand flat over Barry's chest. Barry shivered, his next breath coming out into the air as steam. "You know."
"Know what? You're acting strange—and your hand is freezing." Barry reached up to knock Leonard's hand away, but Leonard let go before they connected and took a step back.
"I thought I was going crazy, at first," Leonard admitted. "But you know. You knew her name. You knew I was on the Waverider."
Barry shook his head. "I'm not following you."
"She doesn't exist, Barry." Leonard's voice was flat, emotionless. He couldn't let himself lose it, not when she was gone, not when there wasn't anyone he trusted who could watch his back. "I looked. No birth certificate, no social security, none of her aliases. It's like she never existed." He licked his lips, his eyes locked on Barry, something in him thrumming with what might have been hope. "But you. You knew exactly who I was talking about. You even knew about the Waverider, and I—"
Barry averted his eyes and hugged himself, rubbing his upper arms. "If she doesn't exist, how do you know?"
"I'm gonna sound crazy," Leonard admitted, but Barry shook his head.
"Try me."
Leonard didn't even know where to start. "Five days ago, I didn't know anything about Lisa or the Waverider. I was having dreams. About being a hero, or— I don't know. I was found by someone named Alchemy."
Barry ran a hand through his hair and looked up toward the sky. "Alchemy. Of course." He realized Leonard was still watching him and shook his head. "I've seen the name around. Go ahead."
Leonard shook his head. "When I woke up, I remembered. I have a sister, but I don't have a sister. I was a hero, but I'm not a hero. And there was another me, who went with the others on the Waverider. I—remember three distinct lives. She was there. She existed." He splayed out his hands in entreaty. "We haven't always seen eye to eye, kid. I know that. And I know that Lisa wasn't exactly a law-abiding citizen. That was my fault. But saving people is what you do. Help me." Leonard clenched his jaw around the next word, but he thought of Lisa, how he couldn't help her by himself. "Please."
Barry looked back at Leonard, and his face was an open book like always, filling with a dawning awareness and a deep, terrible grief. "I'm sorry, Snart. I can't."
Leonard turned away to give himself a moment, to breathe. His hands iced over, and he slid them into the pockets of his jacket to hide them before he turned back around. "I know I'm asking for something that sounds impossible, Barry. But with your powers, our memories, your friends—"
Barry shook his head. "I don't know how you remember what you remember, but I can't do what you're asking." He clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it to his mouth. "I'm so, so sorry."
Leonard's heartbeat pounded in his ears, making him dizzy, but he couldn't give up. He couldn't give up and forgive himself for doing it. "I wouldn't have come to you if I had a choice. If I could get the attention of my friends, maybe I could fix it. I don't have that option. This is a Hail Mary pass, I get that. But you have to try." He shook his head. "I know there'll be theoretical physics involved, maybe string theory—"
Barry exhaled a shaky breath and dropped his hand, looking at Leonard with damp eyes. "I went back in time. I messed everything up."
Barry's words froze Leonard into place. "You can travel through time."
Barry squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "I can go fast enough to create a wormhole to the past. I did that, because—I guess the why doesn't really matter to you. It was the wrong decision, and I tried to fix it. When I came back to the present, almost everything was the same."
"Almost." Leonard scoffed. "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"
Barry swallowed. "Cisco had a brother. His name was Dante. Before I went back, he was fine. After… I found out that he was hit by a drunk driver." Barry stepped closer to Leonard, reaching out to touch, but he dropped his hand at the last minute, obviously thinking better of it. "I can't go back again. I don't know what else it'll break."
Leonard pinned Barry with another narrow look. "Living and dying isn't the same as never living at all." He shook his head again, ruthlessly forcing himself to stillness. "It's funny. Alchemy said you took something important from me. I didn't believe it. Barry Allen, he's a good kid. A pain in the ass, but heroes are like that." One step closer, and Barry didn't move back. They were sharing the same air, intimate in a way, the way they always were when they understood each other best. "I'll ask one more time. Help me save Lisa."
A muscle in Barry's jaw clenched, and his eyes were wet when he met Leonard's gaze again. "If I can't go back for one of my best friends, how can I go back for you?"
Something in Leonard curdled at Barry's words—hope, the sheer belief he'd somehow clung to that Barry was different. That was fine. Leonard wasn't a stranger to disappointed expectations. He'd known all along that the Scarlet Speedster was a liar. He just needed the right kind of pressure, and he'd fold, just like anyone else. "You'll do it because Cisco and I aren't the same. Cisco is your friend. He cares about you. I don't." Leonard pulled his cold gun out of his jacket and pressed the muzzle to the underside of Barry's chin, the core whirring in readiness. Barry tensed, but there wasn't much he could do this close other than listen. "Lisa was the best of me, Barry. If you want to play this game, you'll find out exactly what kind of man I am without her."
He held Barry's gaze for another long minute, almost daring Barry to say something, and then he turned away, tucking the gun inside his coat again. He heard the wind displace when Barry ran away, but he dismissed it. If Barry wasn't willing to help, Leonard would have to find a way on his own.
~*~