Archive of Our Own

Their house is on fire. Although it's not in the literal sense, Luke can still feel flames burning at his back with every stroke of Mommy's belt. (Not Daddy's. They don't have one.)

Cece's lucky. She likes flames. With every hit Luke gets, she goads Mommy into giving her two more. All she does is spit in Mommy's face and shout, "Getting weak in your old age, aren't you Mama?"

"Cece!" Luke hisses to her, "Stop it!"

"No!" Cece yells, "Just 'cause this old bat," pointing her small finger at Mommy, whose reaching for the knife again, "adopted us don't mean she can call you Hannah and get away with it!"

Luke squeezes his eyes shut as Mommy approaches. "But—but she's Mommy. Sh-she can call me by my real name."

"Hannah ain't your real name, Luke!" Cece says, "Don't let her poison you just 'cause she's a cock-sucking bitch!"

Luke gasps. He wishes he wasn't such a coward, but when Mommy starts cutting into Cece's shielding arms, he curls into the corner of the bedroom and doesn't pick up his head until Cece's slippery fingers find his.

Cece never screams in pain, only anger. Not once does her voice crack or tremble. As she guides Luke to their shared bathroom, she's completely calm, sitting her brother on the toilet seat and getting the first-aid kit.

"I gotta make sure I don't bleed all over the place first," she tells him, "so you just wait there. Okay?"

"O-okay."

He's such a coward.

Biologically speaking, Luke and Cece aren't siblings. They met in foster care when he was five, she nine. He knows next to nothing about her life before then, only that she knows how to nip things from others without anyone being the wiser. That, and she's really good at being an adult.

Luke didn't approach her. Honestly he was too scared to try. His crippling anxiety's not very conducive for making friends, and Cece's stiff upper lip and thick arms didn't help one bit. One day, though, Luke was bouncing a ball in their foster parents' backyard, and she caught it when he accidentally threw it too hard against the patio.

"You always by yourself?" she asked.

Luke felt his heart start to race. Playing with the hem of his (uncomfortable, out of place) dress, he stuttered, "Um. Y-yeah."

"You like being by yourself?"

"W-well...well, I..." she patiently waited for him to finish, unlike everyone else. For that, he managed to finish in a lame mumble, "No, Miss. Not really."

He avoided her gaze, opting to stare at his worn sneakers instead.

"Okay then."

Luke startled. "O-okay?"

She smiled, big and pretty. "Name's Cece. What's yours?"

Luke's hearts sank. He always hated this part. "Hannah," he said quietly.

Cece's face scrunched. "Don't sound like it is."

"M-my parents named me Hannah."

"Well where are your parents now?"

Luke blinked at her, owlish brown eyes staring into open grey. "Uh...they-they didn't want me anymore."

Cece strode right up to him and said, "Then their name don't count for shit. So let's try again: Hi, my name's Cece. What's yours?"

She transferred the bright red ball under her arm, holding out her free hand to shake. Luke's vision blurred with tears.

With the brightest smile Cece will ever see, Luke replied, "I'm Luke."

"Nice to meet you, Luke!"

After that, wherever Cece went, Luke followed in her shadow like a baby duckling. If someone mocked Luke, Cece gave 'em a roundhouse to the face. She got kicked out of a lotta foster homes that way; Luke always made trouble when she did so he could go back to the orphanage too. Pretty soon Child Services saw they were inseparable.

They said it was a shame. They said Luke was such a nice boy, and Cece was—well. Cece.

When Luke told her this, Cece scoffed, "That's 'cause they're white, and so are you."

Luke tilted his head. "Does that matter?"

Cece smiled at him in the way he liked: soft, sisterly, and kind. "'Fraid so, little brother."

The only one who'd take them together was Mommy. Look how that turned out.

"Luke. Luke!"

Luke jolts awake to Cece's shaking.

"Come on. We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Luke whispers, "Where?"

"Anywhere but here sounds like apple pie to me. I got the money from her safe—should be enough to at least buy you some decent clothes and get us enough food to last us a few days. I packed some stuff too." When Luke doesn't move, Cece huffs impatiently and grabs his hand. "Come on!"

Cece drags him from the suburban neighborhood, all the way to the bus stop. Early March cold seeps into Luke's skirt and Cinderella hoodie. Cece shoulders her backpack and holds him against her. She's twelve, but she looks twenty to him, standing tall and ready to take the world down a couple pegs. Her bruised face and bandaged arms just add to the warrior's glow swirling through her dark curls.

Once they're on a bus headed for the city, Cece kisses his head and murmurs, "Don't worry, Luke. I got a plan."

Luke takes a fistful of her purple raincoat and says, "What're we gonna do?"

Cece tells him, "We're gonna find my Daddy."

Luke's told Cece everything he knows about his parents. John and Karen Blackwell of Blackwell & Blackwell Law, owners of a sizable house upstate with two dogs and, last time Luke saw them, a baby on the way. They'd always wanted a little girl, and Hannah Blackwell had been their pride and joy—right up until he admitted that he was actually a boy.

They only kept him long enough to sign him off to an orphanage. Luke tried calling them, pitching his voice as high as it would go, eagerly responding to 'Hannah', babbling about Barbies and princesses.

Karen yelled at him to stop giving her false hope. She wondered aloud what kind of womb she had that produced such an evil child, calling him names he didn't really understand but knew were not nice. Soon after that call was done, Luke was told he couldn't call the Blackwell house anymore, that his parents had filed for a closed adoption.

Cece held him as he told her, letting him get her shirt wet with tears until there weren't any left. Then she told him, "Well I'm proud to have a little brother like you, Luke. You and me, we're gonna stick together."

What Cece did tell Luke about her parents boils down to this: she had a mother who stayed with a bunch of other women in a city building. She went out, came back with money. Drank a lotta something called 'booze'—the funny word makes Luke laugh every time—and was only allowed to have a kid in that place because Cece picked up a few skills that brought more money in; namely, pick-pocketing, petty theft, and sometimes even joining her mother out on the town. Whatever she did during that last option was never said.

Her mother died from something with a Tee Dee. The women they lived with didn't want to be saddled with a kid, so it was off to the orphanage for her. "But that's okay," she said, "'cause I met you."

As for her Daddy, all she can say for sure is that there's a good chance he knows nothing about her. Her mother gave her a few tiny details she soaked up with her sponge-brain: he was white, a criminal, and paid well.

Now, sitting on that bus, Luke asks, "How're we gonna find him? There's lotsa white guys."

Cece grins, "Yeah, but there's one other thing: he likes fire."

Luke giggles, "Kinda like Heat Wave!"

There's something strange in her smile. "Exactly like Heat Wave."

A couple bus rides later, they're in Central City by around eight in the morning. Luke's been here a couple times. The Blackwells occasionally took him to work to show off his pretty blond pigtails and dresses to their subordinates. Now he's hand-in-hand with his real family, shopping for the clothes he's always wanted.

"M'am," Cece says once Luke comes racing out in his new jeans, sneakers, striped shirt and blue hoodie, "can I borrow your scissors?"

The woman behind the desk raises an eyebrow. "For what?"

"I wanna cut my brother's hair."

The woman—Dana, by her name tag—opens her mouth to say no when her boss walks out and says, "Child, you probably never cut hair in your life."

The boss, whose name tag reads Constance, intimidates Luke immediately. She's an imposing old woman, stout, hands on her hips with a colorful head scarf and an unimpressed scowl on her face. Her skin's a couple shades darker than Cece's, highlighting the grays in her hair and the light blue of her eyes.

While Luke cowers behind his sister, Cece crosses her arms and says, "Yeah, well I can try."

"Don't talk back to me, young lady! Your mama ever teach you about respecting your elders?"

"My mama's dead, so what does she care?"

Constance softens, not in pity but in empathy. "Then I'm teachin' you now: respect your elders."

"What if they don't earn it?"

Constance's lip curls. "Then kick 'em where it hurts. For now, you best come with me. My daughter-in-law owes me for savin' Christmas dinner last year, and her salon's open early on Mondays. She'll take care of your brother."

When Luke makes to follow, Cece holds him in place.

"What? You're just gonna give him a haircut for free?" she asks, eyes narrowed.

Constance snorts, leaning on her cane as she strides to the door. "You don't wanna freebie, then fine. Sweep up his hair when he's done."

Reluctantly, Cece retakes Luke's hand and follows Constance next door. The favor's cashed in, and Kneia Bridgforth ushers Luke to a seat. Luke keeps quiet the entire time, pinching himself under the black barber sheet to assure himself that this is real, that he actually has his own clothes and won't have to wear pigtails anymore.

Kneia and Cece talk, though.

"You new to Central?" Kneia asks.

Cece replies in a short, "What's it to you?"

"Excuse me for trying to make conversation."

"I'm twelve. What's there to talk about with me?"

"Well we're talkin' now, aren't we?"

"I'm gonna sweep up my brother's hair when you're done. I hope there's enough of it."

Cece scowls when all Kneia does is smile.

Finally, the hair dresser backs off and says, "How d'you like it, sugar?"

Luke looks at himself in the mirror. It's not something he does often, but now—now he knows he'll do it every day.

He throws his arms around Kneia and cries into her stomach. There aren't enough "thank you"s in the world.

Cece makes quick work of the hair. "Thanks," she says curtly, "we'll be going now."

Kneia brushes at her stained shirt in vain. "Good morning to you too."

Once they're outside, Luke repeats to his sister, "Thank you, Cece. Thank you!"

Cece's chest puffs out a little. "Hey," she says, throwing an arm around him, "my baby bro deserves the best!"

She shows him around Central City, pointing out stuff like the Rathaway building and the big toy store on 5th and Main. They have lunch at a nice place called Jitters. Cece frowns a little at the bill, but is smiling when Luke looks back at her, 'cause he deserves a nice day.

They're lucky enough to see a streak of lightning blow past them in the park. Luke jumps up and down, pointing after it.

"That was the Flash!" he bellows, earning smiles from other adults, "Did you see that, Cece?"

She's just as amazed as he. "Yeah," she murmurs, "I saw."

Eventually, the sun starts to set.

"Come on," his sister says, "it's a long walk from here."

"Where?"

"Well, we gotta sleep somewhere, right? Don't worry. I told you I have a plan."

 Cece takes him to a hovel next to a bar. It's a rough part of Central, as evidenced by the suspicious looks Luke gets and the rough look of the locals. Cece returns each and every one of their gazes with her own defiant stare, gripping Luke tighter against her as she knocks three times on the door.

It's an old brick building, weather worn, with a couple windows that have sheets covering them from the inside. Pushing his free hand into his hoodie pocket, Luke looks up and down the street. Nothing much to see, except for the bar's sign: SAINTS AND SINNERS.

A woman in a tight skirt and long-sleeved shirt that doesn't reach her belly button answers, ridiculously high heels clicking as she leans against the door frame.

"Whatchu want, kid?" she snaps, raspy voice indicative of a smoker's lungs.

"My brother and I need a room for the night," Cece replies.

The woman barks a laugh, "And you think you're gonna come in here for one? Honey, you know what this place is?"

"Sure I do. My mom died in here, Yolanda."

The woman starts, entire posture straightening. "How the fuck you know my name?"

"I know your name just like I know you got a nice closet under your stairs. Oh, and that this building's been condemned. I'm sure CCPD wouldn't like it if I told them alllll about what's goin' on."

Yolanda's fists clench. "Little shit like you wouldn't dare."

"Wanna bet?"

They stare each other down. Luke, frightened, looks back at the bar. Through the window, he can see a guy wearing a huge blue coat, kinda like his own hoodie but really big. He's talking to someone, occasionally drinking from his glass.

By the time this man searches for whoever's watching him, Cece and Luke are inside.

"Cece," Luke whines, "I'm hungry."

Cece rummages in her backpack. She pulls out two sandwiches wrapped in tin foil. "Here you go, Luke. But you gotta keep quiet. Folks in here don't like to be disturbed, let alone by kids."

"I don't like it here. It smells funny."

"I know. But don't you worry. Tomorrow, we'll start lookin' for my Daddy."

"How will we know where to start?"

Cece winks at him, "Let's just say he's a regular next door. But Luke," and Luke perks up, 'cause that's her serious voice, "in case we don't find 'im right away, I gotta teach you how to get money."

Luke swallows a bite of his PB&J. "What d'you mean?"

"I'll show you tomorrow. My Daddy won't be comin' by until nighttime. Okay?"

"Okay."

Cece kisses his forehead. "You're a good kid, Luke. I love you lots."

"Love you lots more!"

"Shh!"

"Oh, sorry." Luke repeats in a whisper, "Love you lots more."

Cece grins around her sandwich. Once they're done, she uses her backpack as their pillow and clicks off the light.

They don't find Cece's Daddy right away. But that's okay. Luke doesn't like sleeping in alleys and subways, but he gets to curl up in Cece's lap without worrying about Mommy's belt.

Cece teaches him how to pick-pocket. He's not the best, but he can get away with it if the target's really gullible. Basically, he takes uptown, she takes downtown. They meet towards sundown at the big toy store on 5th and Main with their winnings. At first, Luke was terrified of going alone. The thought of Cece being proud of him keeps his chin up.

Unfortunately, he takes on another rich guy. This one's in a black coat and expensive suit; Luke doesn't bother looking at his face before he bumps into him and snatches his wallet.

"Sorry, sir!" he calls as he starts to run off.

A cold hand clamps on his shoulder. Luke's heart stops.

"First rule of pick-pocketing, kid," a calm voice drawls, "don't announce what you're doing."

Luke gasps as he's hauled in front of the man. Vaguely familiar, his eyes are as cold as his hands, impassively scrutinizing the child before him. From the look on his face, he doesn't find much to care about.

"I," Luke swallows, thoughts reeling around his sister, who's gonna be waiting for him in two hours at their spot, who he can't let down, "I wasn't!"

The man raises an eyebrow. Without preamble, he plucks his wallet from Luke's pocket.

"No one apologizes in the city," he says.

As younger siblings do, Luke tries to imitate Cece's hard glare. "I was bein' polite, is all!"

"While stealing my wallet?"

Oh...well, when he puts it like that..."Yeah, but—but—"

"You're new at this, aren't you?"

Luke flushes red. "Am not!"

The man clearly doesn't believe him. "Tell you what, kid," he says at length, opening his wallet, "I'll give you points for effort. Here."

He hands Luke two twenties. Amazed, Luke reaches for it—only to have the man pull it back.

"Don't apologize again," the man stresses.

Luke gulps. "Y-yes sir. Um," he pockets the twenties, "thank you very much!"

The man hums. In seconds, he's on his way without a glance back at Luke. It's the view of the back of his head that rings a bell in Luke's head.

That blue coat isn't on him now, but it's definitely him. Come to think of it, that coat...kinda reminds him of...

Luke sprints after him. "Sir! Sir, wait!"

The man's eyes narrow on him. "What now, kid? I gave you what you want—not like you deserved it."

Knees knocking, Luke whispers, "Are you Captain Cold?"

The man's eyebrows shoot to his widow's peak. "I didn't know I had a fan."

Luke's mouth drops. "So—so you are?"

"Yes."

"But...but you're just—you're in the middle of a sidewalk."

"Talking to a kid at a standstill too. You wanna continue this conversation, you keep walking."

"Okay!"

Captain Cold doesn't seem to know if Luke's an idiot or just new. Nevertheless, he resumes his brisk pace, prompting Luke to practically jog after him.

"How are you just walking around?" Luke asks.

"Take off the parka and no one's the wiser," Captain Cold replies, "no one looks at someone twice in the city. Why do you think I wear it?"

"I dunno...'cause it's your costume?"

An amused smirk. "I suppose it is. I am a supervillain, after all." It's almost like he's preening with that title.

"A supervillain? You're like, the supervillain!" Luke crows. Just as Cold said, no one spares them a glance. "I saw you on TV when my Mommy was out! The Flash was like, fwish!" Luke thrusts his arms in front of him to demonstrate the Flash's speed. "And then you were like, zzz!" this time he's miming the famous Cold Gun.

"Very accurate description," Cold deadpans, "well done."

"And Heat Wave! Golden Glider! Are they as cool as they look?"

Cold smirks, "Not as cool as me."

"Well duh, you're Captain Cold. No one's as cool as you, it's in your name."

Cold chuckles, "I keep telling 'em that."

"Really?"

"No."

"...oh. Well, you should! That'd be so funny! And you make all those puns on TV!"

"Look, kid—"

"Luke!"

Cold waves a dismissive hand, "Luke, fine. It's been fun talking to you, but I've got somewhere to be."

"Are you gonna make dastardly villain plans?"

"Sure. We'll call it that."

"Cool! Well, could you tell Heat Wave that we're looking for someone exactly like him?"

Cold pauses. Turns to face Luke head on at the curb. "What do you mean, 'exactly like him'?"

Luke rocks back and forth on his sneakers, still so excited that he met the Flash's nemesis. "My sister got us away from Mommy. She says that we have to find her Daddy. She knows he's white, a criminal, pays well, and likes fire. She says he's exactly like Heat Wave!"

Cold's eyes widen by increments the longer Luke talks.

"How old is your sister?" he asks.

"Twelve. I'm eight!"

Cold looks somewhere above Luke's head for a second. Kinda looks like Cece when she's doing mental math.

Luke adds, "We stayed next to a bar on our first night. I got a haircut and clothes! I mean, my hair's grown back, but Cece says I can get it cut again soon!"

"What bar?" Cold demands. He reins himself in when Luke shies away. "What bar, ki—Luke?"

Eyes on the sidewalk, Luke recites, "Saints and Sinners."

A curse punches out of Cold in a hiss between his teeth. Luke's fingers close tightly around the day's winnings.

"Captain Cold? D-did I do something wrong?"

Seeing the look on the child's face, Cold takes another deep breath. Calmly, he replies, "No, Luke. I have to make a phone call, but I need you to do something for me."

Captain Cold was asking him to do something? Luke bites down on an eager grin. "Sure!"

"Take me to your sister. I'd like to meet her."

"Really? Awesome!" Luke takes Cold's hand and starts dragging him in the opposite direction. "We meet at the toy store on 5th and Main when the sun hits the top of the Rathaway building," he dutifully recites per Cece's instructions. "I think you'll really like her, Captain! She's real tough. She can take on anything!"

"I have no doubt she can. Does she like fire?"

Luke shrugs a shoulder, "She's got some matches in her backpack—but I'm not supposed to know about those! Don't tell her I said that, okay?"

"Cross my heart," Cold says dryly, "there's one problem though."

"What?"

"Sun doesn't hit Rathaway for another two hours. I need to see your sister as soon as possible."

"Oh! Well, she takes downtown. Tourists are there."

"And she sent you here?"

"I'm not that bad! Not my fault I ran into Captain Cold!"

Cold smirks, "That's true. You've got spirit, Luke, I'll give you that. What does she look like?"

"Um, lots of black hair, like, really gigantic curls on her head," Luke expands his fingers over his own head, swinging his joined hands with Cold all the while, "and she wears a bright pink headband. In case I need to find her, she wears her purple raincoat. Oh! And she has really pretty gray eyes."

Cold nods. "I'm gonna make that phone call. Then we'll look for her."

"Okay!"

Luke watches as he takes out an expensive-looking phone, hitting a speed dial. Soon as the person on the other line picks up, he hisses, "Mick. We have a small problem."

Luke watches his face, trying to warm his cold hand with his littler one. Without the goggles, Captain Cold isn't as animated as he is on TV. If he hadn't been so blindsided by Luke's sudden appearance, he would've been a lot more composed, Luke thinks. Maybe he really wants to help find Cece's Daddy.

"I'm not explaining a damn thing," Cold growls through clenched teeth, "just meet me on the corner of 5th and Main. Get your ass down here, and for fuck's sake, don't bring your gun. Yes, I'm serious, Mick. Do it."

He hangs up without a word. Luke asks, "Are you okay, Mr. Cold?"

Cold snorts, "Just call me 'Cold', kid."

"Then call me 'Luke', Cold."

The comeback accomplishes what Luke intended: some of the tension eases in the hard line of Cold's shoulders.

Luke rambles on and on as they walk. He's never talked so much to someone who isn't Cece, but then again, this is Captain Cold. No way is he just gonna sit back.

When they reach 5th and Main, Luke stops short. A delighted smile brightens his face.

"Look! She's already here!"

Indeed, there stands Cece, leaning against the toy store wall. She's playing with her matches, staring at the tiny flame like it's her last hope. Cold stiffens all over again.

"Yeah," he says, slightly hoarse, "she definitely is."

"Cece!" Luke calls as they approach, "Cece, look, look!"

Face tightening in guilt, Cece stomps out her match, as if her brother hasn't already seen it. "Hey, little bro," she says, "what'd you—you..." her eyes widen on Captain Cold. "You."

"Yes," Cold smirks, "me. I'm told you're looking for your father."

Cece recovers herself. Straight-backed, she snaps, "Damn right I am. What'd he do, go off to Europe or somethin'?"

"How are you so sure it's him?"

Cece puts her hands on her cocked hips. "I got his nose, chin, and I'm definitely gettin' his muscle. Look me in the face and tell me he's not there. And don't you dare tell me I'm wrong 'cause I'm black! I don't care who you are, I will kick you in your icy balls!"

Cold lets out a quiet sigh. "No," he says, "I see it."

"Snart!"

The three of them look over. Cece gasps; Luke beams.

For there, stomping over to meet them, is none other than Heat Wave. As Cold instructed, he's without his gear, but no less menacing in his ill-fitted shirt and jeans.

"What the fuck's goin' on?"

Cold drops Luke's hand, gesturing to Cece. "Mick," he says, "I didn't know you had a kid."

"What?"

Golden Glider won't stop laughing. Luke doesn't know what's so funny, but he laughs along.

Meanwhile, Cold reclines on a stuffy chair, arms crossed, watching Heat Wave watching Cece. Father and daughter aren't doing much outside of staring at each other.

"I mean," Heat Wave finally says, "I guess—"

"No," Cece interrupts, "you don't guess. I got a paternity test when I was ten. Got some welts 'cause of it, but damn it was worth it to know my Daddy's none other than Mick-fuckin'-Rory."

Golden Glider laughs harder. Cold remains impassive.

Cece continues, unzipping her backpack to show a crumpled paper showing the results. "Twelve years ago you thought with your dick. It happens. Really I don't care. You don't gotta keep me," Heat Wave deflates, clear relief on his brow, "I don't expect nothin' from you. But," Cece turns to Cold, who raises an eyebrow at the abrupt attention, "I'll take jobs from you."

Glider finally stops laughing. "What's there for a kid to do?" she asks with a smile that makes Luke uncomfortable.

Cece waves a flippant hand, "Like you don't know. We kids can get into tiny spaces. Luke's a smart kid; whatever you need to teach 'im, he can learn. I can pick locks just as well as pockets. You pay us, we won't give you trouble."

"And if I decline?" Cold asks.

"Then I gotta take my little brother back to Mommy."

"What's wrong with Mommy?" Glider wonders, inspecting her nails.

Cece responds by rolling up her sleeves. She's got plenty of scars from Mommy's knife.

"I didn't get these by myself," she says. When no one says anything, she leans forward and tells Captain Cold, more fiercely than any fire Luke's every felt, "Let me tell you somethin'. If my little brother gets one more bruise from that worthless bitch, I don't care if I'm a twelve-year-old kid. I will march into CCPD and make sure you never see the light of day again."

Silence. Luke scrambles off the counter's stool to sit beside his sister. She relaxes like he wanted, putting her arm around him.

"Yeah, I'm your partner's daughter," she says, "but that don't mean shit to me. My brother, though? He's my world. You got it?"

Heels click behind them.

"Oh Lenny," Glider purrs, "Let's keep them."

So they do.

Cece's taken out on a job three weeks later as a contingency plan. Luke stays at one of the safe-houses Cold set them up in, a two-bedroom apartment that's rarely used by the Rogues and far from the suburban atmosphere the kids specifically said they did not want. He watches cartoons and binges on cereal after a long, hot shower.

All in all, best night ever.

Cece bounds into the apartment late that night. She's got soot under her fingernails and a bounce in her step that Luke's missed very much.

"Told you I had a plan," she whispers as she kisses him good night.

Luke burrows underneath her chin. "Love you lots, Cece."

She squeezes him tight. "Love you lots more, Luke."

Their bedroom door's kicked open the next day.

"Rise and shine, buttercups!" Golden Glider chirps, "We've got things to do!"

Cece's up like a shot. Luke—well, he needs a second.

"Auntie Lisa's gonna show you some things, darling Cece. As for you, sweetheart," smiling at Luke, "you're off with my big brother."

Luke hasn't seen much of Cold since he and Cece moved in, which is funny since they kinda work for him now. The prospect of spending time with him again has the child practically cartwheeling out of bed.

"When?" Luke cries, already rushing to the dresser for his trusty blue hoodie so he can wear Cold's colors.

Cold's voice replies from the living room, "Soon as you're ready."

Luke, hoodie flying behind him, runs to the bedroom door, shooting his head around Glider. And there's Captain Cold, in all black except for a blue jacket (awesome! They'll match!) leaning against the back of the couch.

"Hi!" Luke exclaims, "Good morning!"

Cold smirks, "And to you. I'd hurry up; my sister doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Aw, don't listen to him," Glider coos, "I've got a soft spot for cute kids like you."

Cece's already halfway dressed. Glider's looked away, but evidently the little girl doesn't care who's watching. She tosses Luke the rest of his clothes, asking, "What're we doing?"

Glider replies, "I'm taking you and your dear old dad out for some one-on-one training."

Cece's eyes narrow. "I told you that I don't give a damn if he's my daddy or not."

"That's why I'm coming along. Besides, we girls gotta stick together in this sausage fest."

Cold snorts quietly.

Luke brushes his teeth fast as he can. Cece asks what he and Cold will be doing.

"I'll be refining your brother's skills," says Cold, "you've taught him the basics. But if we're gonna pull of a job I'm looking into, we'll need two pairs of small hands."

Cece nods. "You take care of him or you'll have me to answer to. You got it?"

"Oh, yes ma'am."

Cece stomps over to him. Stares.

Punches him in the gut.

Cold lets out a small "ugh". Glider smothers a laugh with her hand, but a shriek escapes.

"I said," Cece growls, "you take care of him."

"Lenny," Glider says, "I adore her."

"Wha—Cece!" Luke cries, "You can't just hit Captain Cold! That's not cool!"

"Oh my fucking—" Glider puts her head in her hands. "Please tell me he didn't do that on purpose."

Cold, recovered from the small hit, smirks and says, "Actually," meeting Luke's shy grin, "he's got a very good sense of humor."

Cece grabs her toothbrush, gives Luke a final once-over, then hugs him. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Luke's nearly vibrating in her arms. "Okay, okay! Can I go now? Please, please, please?"

Cece laughs, ruffling his hair. "Yeah, go learn how to be the bestest criminal ever."

He lets out an eager whoop and races to the door, grabbing Cold's wrist on the way. Glider blows her surprised brother a kiss.

"You two have fun!" she calls.

Once the door's slammed shut by an over-excited eight year old, Glider turns to Cece.

"You know," she says, casually leaning against the door frame, "Mick worries an awful lot about you."

Cece spits into the sink. "Yeah," she mutters, "'m sure he does. Lotsa daddies do when they find out they got a kid. It'll wear off."

Glider shrugs, "Maybe. We'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

"You ready?"

Cece grabs her matchbox. "Now I am."

Cold takes Luke to the park. They sit down on a bench.

"What're we gonna do first?" Luke asks, bouncing in his seat.

"First," Cold presses lightly on his shoulder, "you calm down. Then you're gonna get us hot dogs from that stand over there and come back."

Luke pouts, "I'm what?"

Cold smirks, "While pick-pocketing everyone you can." Luke sits straighter. "You get two get out of jail free cards. One for going over, one for coming back. One is beside the fountain."

Luke turns.

"Try subtlety, kid."

"Oh! Sorry!" he pans the area like Cece taught him.

"Better. White-washed shirt, dark hair, reading a book."

When Luke sees him, he whips back around and whispers, "Is that Rainbow Raider?"

Cold mutters "Rainbow Raider" under his breath before replying, "Call him Roy. Other one's playing Cat's Cradle in front of the tree to our right."

Luke bites his lip. "And-and that's the Trickster?"

"He doesn't mind Trickster, yes."

"I...h-he's not gonna kill anyone, is he?"

Something hardens in Cold's eyes. "Rogues' Code: we don't kill."

Luke slumps in relief. "Okay...okay. I can do this!"

"Ready?"

Bracing himself, "Yeah."

"And..." Cold looks at his watch, "go."

Luke nearly sprints. He remembers Cece's lessons just in time to check himself. Gotta be casual.

Like Cold taught him, Luke doesn't apologize for bumping into strangers. They don't either, which gives him another incentive to take their wallets, because that's just rude.

He makes it across. With Cold out of earshot, he holds up two fingers and says, "Two for me and my dad!"

It's a good cover. Cold's silver hair doesn't exactly place him within the age range for being Luke's older brother, and Luke doesn't know if the vendor's gonna be watching or not. Also it's just fun to say that Captain Cold's his dad.

Still, maybe don't try it in front of the man himself. Luke might be young, but he's not stupid.

Luke pays for the hot dog with some of the money he took. It's a little harder to pick-pocket with two hot dogs in his hand, a challenge Cold obviously planned on giving him. Luke does his best, though he doesn't get nearly as much money in his hoodie and jacket than he did before.

"You did great, kid," Cold says, taking the hot dog, "why the long face?"

Luke plops beside him, "I didn't get as much on the way back."

"That's why we practice. Eat up; we've got a—"

"Hey!"

Both Cold and Luke look up at the sudden voice. Dread grips Luke's heart as he sees it's one of his targets, a man with brown hair and trimmed beard with big eyes and small lips. And he's pointing straight at the thief.

"That kid stole my wallet!" he shouts, earning quite a few stares.

Cold scratches behind his ear. Just as the man reaches their bench, Roy taps him on the shoulder.

"I'm sure you're mistaken," says the Rogue with a close-lipped smile. Luke only catches a glimpse of blue before Cold forces him to look away.

The man starts crying and flees.

"You okay, Luke?" Roy asks when he's gone.

"I-I'm sorry," Luke stammers, "I'm really, sorry, I—I didn't mean—"

Roy puts his sunglasses on, easing into a crouch. "Hey now," he soothes, "that's why me and Axel are around. You did good."

Luke tries to slow his breathing. "S-so—" he glances between Raider and Cold, "you're...you're not gonna punish me?"

Both Rogues look at each other. Roy nods and walks off, motioning for Trickster to follow. Axel whines that he didn't even get to have his fun. That all fades to the background when Luke dares to meet Cold's eyes.

"Listen to me, Luke," Cold says, "you're not getting punished. If you do something wrong, I'll tell you. But no one raises a hand against you again. Understand?"

What else can Luke do but hug him?

"Thank you," he sniffs, "thank you, thank you, Cold!"

He gets a tentative hand on his back. "How about we stick with Len?"

"L-Len?"

"My first name."

"Oh," Luke peeks up at him, "is that why Golden Glider calls you Lenny?"

Col—Len, Len smirks, "Did you think I didn't have a first name?"

"Sure I did. Just thought it was Captain."

Len laughs.

Glider takes them to an abandoned warehouse by the docks, claiming she wants to see if Cece can actually shoot like she said so during last night's job.

As they enter, Rory's gruff voice mumbles, "Here," as he tosses something to Cece.

She catches it. When she opens her palms, she finds an orange zippo. "What's this?"

Rory shrugs a shoulder. Cece flicks it open. The longer she stares, the better she feels.

"Why'd you give me this?" she asks once she can bring herself to close the flame.

Another shrug. "Better'n matches. I still use 'em, but those last longer. Relighting can be a bitch."

Cece finds herself empathetically agreeing. "Don't I know it. I sometimes go through whole boxes in a day."

"People lookit you funny when you get too many at once."

"Like they feel sorry for you but also wanna lock you up."

They stare at each other in surprise.

...and y'know what? Fuck it.

"My middle name's Duke."

Rory blinks. "What?"

"Cecilia Duke," Cece continues, "my mom said you called your gun Duke. Overheard you muttering to it. You really talk to your gun?"

He shoots her a scowl. "If you saw what it can do, you wouldn't find it so weird."

"So..." Cece's thumb rubs along the edge of the—her—zippo, "can I?"

She can. And damn but she could watch it for days.

Both kids reunite for a take out dinner. Luke relates every single detail about his day with Len, from the pick-pocketing to after, when he went for another haircut. Wasn't Constance's daughter-in-law, but they got the job done. And did Cece know that Leonard was Captain Cold's first name? Yeah! Leonard Snart! How funny does that sound?

Cautiously, Cece retrieves her zippo from her pocket. She knows she hasn't been hiding her matches very well, but Luke never seems to mind, so maybe...?

Luke pauses in his story to fixate on the zippo. "What's that?" he says, "It looks really cool!"

Cece calms her breathing. "Actually, it's the opposite of cool," she says, and flicks it open.

"Whoa! A lighter! Where'd you get it?"

"Um...well, my Daddy gave it to me."

"Wow! Cece, now you don't have to keep relighting matches!"

Her little brother is a special boy. Really he is.

"You can have the last slice," she tells him.

Luke brightens. "Really?"

"Yeah, bro."

"Yay!"

Lisa doesn't bother knocking. She just barges into the back room of the Rogues' den.

Still doesn't keep her eyes from burning when she finds her brother moaning in Mick's lap. On the bright side, at least they still have clothes on.

"So are we keeping the kids or what?" she asks once they're separated and not-so-subtly glaring at her for the interruption.

Mick looks at Len. He doesn't like Cece just 'cause she's his kid, and all the Rogues know it. She's bright, headstrong, and knows how to handle herself. She appreciates fire, but to Len's relief, seems to have more control than her father. Most importantly, she understands Mick on a level none of them can hope to reach.

And Luke. Shit. Lisa's never seen Len smile so much in her life, not even when he went out on a limb and dated that twink CSI or finally pulled his head outta his ass and finally jumped his best friend. When that kid's around, everything becomes brighter somehow. Might be his age, or that he's always so happy to see Len, like Len's worth smiling about. Lisa adores that about him, 'cause Lenny really is worth that smile.

"Even if they need a contingency plan on the next job," Lisa says, leaning forward, "we're keeping them around, aren't we?"

It's half-question, half-statement.

At last, Len replies, "They're good with—"

"Cut the practical bullshit, Lenny. Do you want them around or not? Because frankly, I'm not opposed."

"Me neither," says Mick.

Len sighs through his nose. "Kid Rogues. What a novel idea."

Lisa rolls her eyes.

"'Kid Rogues'?" Cece deadpans, "What're we, comic book characters?"

She's smiling though, so Len can't exactly glare at her.

"So we can stay here?" Luke asks, "Not just 'cause of jobs an' stuff, but like—home?"

Len feels warm. It's strange, and he's not sure if he likes it yet. "If you wanna call it that, be my guest."

Luke cheers, "Cece! Didja hear that? We're home!"