Chapter Text
So far, things had gone smoothly. It was going to cut it a little close, but Barry had faith in his team. They were running out of time, though. He could feel it. Something was off with Snart.
“Got it!” came Cisco’s triumphant yelp through the phone and, as he was supposed to be dead, Barry had to fight the urge to smile; it wasn't exactly that he was glad that they were helping the bad guys be, frankly, really bad guys, but it was nice when his gut instinct predicted wins for the good guys. Still, he stood from his faked death on the floor - he deserved an Oscar for that death scene, he really did - and paused to be sure Snart would behave himself long enough for Barry to suit up and get back as the Flash. He moved to keep the vault door from closing, not wanting to bother with the code when he got back, and peeked into the chamber.
He could hear the Snarts growling at each other clearly. The younger had no love lost on the elder, Barry was certain. After hearing Lisa’s story and watching them interact, he understood. Leonard wasn't actually the monster his father wanted him to be; maybe the man had landed in a life he didn't belong. Barry was sure there had to be some good in the man.
And that was how his curiosity got the best of him.
Things went sideways suddenly. Just as he was about to call off the heist, do some quick-change Flash-magic and put the Snart Family Business Plan in prison before Leonard could put it on ice, Barry got a shot in the spine of over-amped electricity. Stun gun. Deadshot to the back of his unprotected neck. It validated the need for body armor over all the right places. But Barry Allen, the Fastest Man Alive, was literally seconds too slow on his decision to suit-up.
Tasers did hurt, they definitely didn't feel good, even with his faster metabolism and healing. It spazzed his hand and he dropped the phone, losing his still celebrating team at S.T.A.R. Labs. And Barry learned the hard way that when over-amped at just the right frequency, so close to the spine, tasers did a bit of a number on even a speedster’s central nervous system. He hit the ground like an ungraceful sack of potatoes and let out an embarrassing grunt. It distracted Leonard and Lewis from the family squabble that had been brewing. The younger Snart tilted his head, eyebrows raised in obvious surprise as he looked over at Barry. Down at Barry, to be more precise. That was embarrassing.
“What the hell is this-” Lewis’ disapproval was interrupted by a nervous shout down the short hall behind Barry. An officer stood at the propped open vault door, weapon trained on Barry as his partner advanced to take on the Snart duo.
“Freeze! CCPD! You’re under arrest!”
That wasn’t good. Barry reached to get his arms to cooperate, at least put his arms out so he didn’t get shot in the back before he could be recognized. All he managed was an awkward flail at lifting his arms that knocked his cell phone further out of reach. He definitely had to get somebody moving on that suit-ring theory a lot faster. This situation was not going to end well. His phone got stomped beneath a boot, a bad sign if that was any indication of the outcome.
Amidst the distraction offered by the stampede of boots down the hall, and the sudden presence of an officer handcuffing Barry’s twitching arms behind his back, the sound of Snart’s cold gun entered the noisy fray. Super great.
Barry had to worry about the officer crouched and kneeling on his back to keep him down as well as wonder who it was that had been shot. Someone was groaning and complaining and it sounded like Lewis. Officers voices barked orders to DROP IT! And HANDS! And DON’T MOVE! while somebody was on the radio calling for the EMTs. It was chaos.
Barry had seen some active scenes in his career so far, as a CSI and as the Flash, so he stayed still and followed orders. By the time the officer got him to his feet, Leonard Snart was on the ground in handcuffs, being searched for more weapons, and his not-so-dearly undeparted father was on the ground bitching about the pain in his arm. Barry stared, slack jawed, as the officers let in the EMTs to start care on their very injured suspect. He looked to the younger Snart as the officer got him to his feet to read off his rights.
“What the... what did you do? We had it handled- she was in the clear...” Barry said without thinking. He was shocked that Leonard had so obviously shot his own father, but perhaps more shocked that the man had apparently missed with his usual fatal aim.
“It was an accident,” drawled Snart. Barry knew a few things about Snart, and sometimes he could tell when the man lied. That was a definite lie. “The officers surprised me.”
“Crap...” Snart’s accident definitely added to the charge count. He needed to get himself sorted out of everything Snart-adjacent and fast. He looked around for the nearest familiar officer.
“Look,” Barry said to the beat cop holding his arm. “Can I speak to the scene command-”
“You!” howled Lewis. The EMTs had him on a stretcher and it popped up so he was a little closer to Barry’s level again. He was handcuffed to the support bar on one side as the EMTs worked on securing and stabilizing his frozen shoulder. All the same, he tried to point at Barry. “You are DEAD! This is on you! You! Will regret crossing me-”
“Aww, lay off him, Pops,” said Leonard, a dangerous smirk on his face. “He was just trying to help.”
Barry straightened up, worried at the implications of the men’s words. The cops around them were taking notes and the whole thing was getting dangerously layered in lies Barry was going to have a hard time talking his way out of.
“Woah! Wait! I didn't-”
“Tell it to your lawyer, Allen,” came a somewhat familiar voice. Barry turned to see Detective Johnson walking up. The look on his face said he had heard it. “And you’ll probably need to explain a few things to the Chief while you're at it.”
“This is sooo not what it looks like,” Barry started.
“Right,” added Snart, with more than enough sarcasm. He looked far too amused with himself. Barry scowled at him as the officers escorted the other two out ahead, Lewis still shouting threats and obscenities at Barry’s alter-ego “Sam” and the general existence of the police force world wide. Barry looked again to the detective.
“I’m serious, man. There is a perfectly acceptable explanation for all of this,” he said. “It is really not what it looks like.”
The way Detective Johnson squinted at him made Barry fairly confident that the man didn't believe him. “It better. Because it's not looking so good from where I'm standing.”
“I promise- just- let me-”
“Nope. I’m not talking to you without your lawyer, Allen. We do this by the book. No favors,” said Johnson. It wasn’t Barry’s best moment. He couldn't find words. The officer started him walking out to the waiting cruiser and Barry still couldn't figure out how to defend himself from how the scene looked. It didn't help at all that he got put in the same back seat with Leonard Snart. The man just stared at him, that dark, gloating grin on his face.
“Did you plan this or something?” Barry asked.
“Hardly,” replied Snart. “But I work with what I get.”
******
“You know,” Barry announced, to no one in particular, slumped over the table and talking into his arm. “This was not how I saw my day going when I woke up this morning.”
“Tell me about it,” grumbled Joe West. The detective was there to lecture Barry for the Bad Idea - emphasis on the capital letters - that had brought them to standing in an interrogation room rather than at home with a beer and pizza. Well, Joe was standing. Barry was sitting. To make it better, Barry was sitting because he was handcuffed to a table. Because he was a suspect in a crime. He was one of exactly three suspects, one of whom had quite literally - not figuratively - been caught holding the bag of stolen gems.
There really wasn't anything for Joe to say. It was an open and shut case. Barry was a cop, he knew the rules, he even knew a few laws, - like the kind of things a cop wasn’t supposed to break - and anything Joe had to say about it would be completely redundant. He had gotten about three words into the lecture before Barry had taken it over for him to save his blood pressure. It seemed to work to get the anger out of Joe’s system without him actually raising his voice at his adopted son in a monitored and recorded police interrogation room. That just left the awkward quiet of Barry sharing space with his foster dad who deserved answers with no lawyer in sight.
“I promise, Joe. This isn't what it looks like. It's not... it’s not bad...” But it wasn't enough and Barry knew it. He couldn't even tell Joe to talk to Cisco and Caitlin because the room was monitored. “When Laurel gets here, I swear.”
“I really don't see how that helps anything, Baer. If it was really nothing, you could tell me,” Joe said. “Here and now and on the record.”
Barry nodded. He tried to wave toward the door and the general direction of Detective Johnson but the handcuffs left him a little limited on it. It turned into a pitiful kind of shrug and flutter and Barry sighed. “He said by the book, no favors. No appearance of favors, Joe. You’re my dad but you’re still a cop...”
Joe looked a bit like he wanted to wring Barry’s neck but he refrained, nodded. “Fine. So in the meantime, I’m supposed to believe a couple of criminals over you, because I'm a cop.”
Barry blinked at him. “Wha- no? What?”
“Snart’s dad is in there calling you ten kinds of traitor and half of it I know are lies. The other half I can't defend you from because I don't know where you've been, son. I’m not part of this. I can't help-”
“I know, it’s Johnson’s case-”
“And Johnson’s got their word against yours, Barry. The video at the vault is dead. We don't know how that happened. But that says nothing good. And you won't say anything until your lawyer gets here. And your lawyer lives what, six hundred miles away? Shouldn't take her long to get here at all. By train.”
Barry stared, mouth hanging open in shocked silence. “The tapes are dead? wha-”
Joe nodded. “Wiped. Erased. Nada.”
“Wow...” Barry put his chin in his hands, staring at the wall. That put him in a bit of a situation. Lewis had shot him, the tapes would have shown that. It would have been a risk to Barry as the Flash, so he figured Cisco was behind the disappearance. It would also be hard to explain as Barry Allen, unofficially undercover and escaped lab-tech, how exactly he had managed to dodge a bullet from a known killer. He couldn't have explained that away either, so even the tapes wouldn't have helped. “Crap.”
Joe nodded, annoyed expression reinforcing exactly how much of an understatement that was. “Yeah. A great big steaming pile of it.”
Barry slumped over and slowly thumped his forehead against the table. He was so screwed.
*****