Whumptober Prompt #3- Delirium And Alt. Prompt #10 Nightmare

Whumptober Prompt #3- Delirium and Alt. Prompt #10 Nightmare

Hey guys!  Me again!  I have no idea how long my blog will stay unflagged but... I’m trying my best here.  I’ll link it to AO3 so you can read it there if you can’t see it here.  Until I inevitably get flagged again, enjoy some Coldflash.

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886941

Len soaked the cloth back in the water basin he’d grabbed.  Barry moaned, trying to fight Len off but his arms were so weak, Len easily pushed them back down.

“Hush, Barry, it’s okay.”  Len said, trying his best to be soothing.  “This will help you.”

“So cold.”  Barry whined at him through glazed eyes.  Len doubted he had any true idea where he was or what was going on.  Barry hadn’t even recognized him yet and it had been two very long days.

“You’re too hot, Barry.”  Len murmured, as even for a speedster, his fever was way too high.  When he’d first agreed to do this, Dr. Snow had explained to him that a speedster, due to their biological makeup to accommodate that kind of speed, ran at a higher temperature than normal humans.  She had told him to add an extra two degrees to what was considered normal, as Barry’s usual resting temperature was one hundred degrees.

Barry closed his eyes again, fading back into unconsciousness.

Len was tempted to call Dr. Snow again but she still couldn’t do anything, not with the rate this disease could spread.  When he had first returned to Central City after basically being blown up and reconstituted, looking for a certain speedster to remind him of what was normal and what he knew, Flash hadn’t been out to play.  That had frustrated him.  Yes, he liked it when he got the money he wanted but the thrill was part of the game.  He wanted to toy with Flash, gamble with his life, always wanting to one up himself and Flash.  After three heists with no sight of the speedster, he had gotten fed up with being ignored.  So he went Star Labs, blaming his back-from-the-dead experience for his impulsivity, denying to himself that he could potentially have missed Barry, storming the Cortex, demanding to know why the great Flash was no longer paying attention to his number one nemesis.  He had found an unconscious Barry on a medical bed, and Dr. Snow and Cisco Ramon in Hazmat suits with thick gloves hovering over him.  They had explained that a disease, specifically designed to only affect metahumans, had been released by the latest Big Bad, a doctor who had lost a child to Zoom’s metahumans terrorizing Central City.  But when Flash had taken him down, he had been exposed to the airborne virus.  And since both Dr. Snow and Ramon had the metahuman gene, as Killer Frost and Vibe apparently, they couldn’t help him without risking exposure.  The virus worked fast, as Barry’s healing had been working overtime, leaving him going in and out of consciousness, unable to retain information.  If they were exposed, the virus would kill them before they could do anything to stop it.  That had also frustrated Len.  Saying that Barry would owe him a favor, Len had offered an old safe-house of his, one he actually owned and could sacrifice, saying Mick would love to see the old place burn. That way, they could actually focus on finding a way to cure the virus instead of fumbling around in Hazmat suits and Barry would be in a place that wouldn’t expose anyone else, as Len wasn’t a metahuman.  He hadn’t been expecting it, but Team Flash had been desperate enough to agree to it.

That had been two days ago but it felt like a week.  Barry’s fever hadn’t gone down the entire time.  He’d barely slept or ate, as getting Barry to eat or cool down was nigh impossible.  Dr. Snow had given Len very specific instructions on how to take care of Barry, including the few antivirals they had, but nothing she gave him was working.  So he had resorted to trying to cool the speedster down manually, for lack of a better word.  Dr. Snow had told him an ice bath would be too risky, as it could actually increase body temperature and if Barry’s body slowed down due to the cold, the virus could kill him faster as his healing factor, the only thing they truly had going for them right now, could cease entirely.  So cool water, not cold water, and washcloths since Barry was clearly in no state to take a bath on his own.  Len did the best he could as more and more time went by as Dr. Snow and Ramon went without calling with a cure.  The antivirals weren’t helping him, his healing was in overdrive, his fever was sky high, and he couldn’t keep a thought in his head for any length of time.  He was starting to get scared.

“Hey.”  A small voice brought him out of his thoughts.  Barry was awake again, staring at Len in confusion.

“Hey yourself.”  Len said, laying another washcloth across his forehead.

“‘M I dreaming?”  Barry murmured, glazed eyes staring into Len’s soul.

“No, you’re not.”  Len answered.  If this had been any other situation, he would’ve teased Barry but Barry’s mind was unable to process teasing so he didn’t.  “But you do owe me one.”

For some reason, Barry smiled.

“Yo-r alive?”  Barry whispered, his hand gently reaching for Len’s face.

Len was too stunned to to stop him and Barry gently cupped his face, though it was as graceful as a smack in the face.

“You’re alive.”  Barry looked on the verge of tears.  “Said you died.”

Len realized that the Legends must have told Barry of Len’s death before they found him again.  He had been dead for about six months after all.

“I’m alive, I’m right here.”  Len said.  “I just need to cool you down.”

Len wrung out another washcloth, hoping to wipe away some of the hot sweat Barry was soaking into the sheets.  Barry hadn’t let go of him yet.  When the first drops of cooler water hit Barry’s skin, he hissed.  “Cold.”

“It’s not, Barry.”  Len repeated, continuing his work, wiping down Barry’s collarbone and chest.  “You’re just too hot.”

“Hot?”  Barry frowned.  “Where’s Mick?”

“Probably off saving the timestream.”  Len replied, torn.  This was the longest conversation he had had with Barry since this whole thing started, but he certainly wasn’t coherent for the damn thing if he thought ‘too hot’ meant Heatwave.

“Save… save city.”  Barry said, his grip on comprehension loose.  “Too cold.  Too hot.”

Barry smacked him in the face trying to get up.  Len pushed him back down.

“City’s already saved.”  Len said.  “It’s okay, you did it.”

“Did it?” Barry asked, his green eyes wide, trusting and fevered.

“You did it.”  Len assured him.  “Stopped the bad guys.  Saved the city.  Everyone’s okay.”

“Dreaming.”  Barry slurred, tears welling up in his eyes again.  “Have to be dreaming.”

“Dreaming what, Barry?”  Len asked.

“You.”  Len stopped.  He hadn’t been expecting that.  “Not okay.  You’re gone.  My fault.  You’re gone and you’re not coming back.  Miss you.”

“You miss me?”  Len asked, floored.

“Want you back.”  Barry kept going.  “Miss your voice.  Miss your eyes.  Miss you.”

A few tears slipped out.  Len gently brushed them away with his thumb.

“I… missed you too.”  Len admitted.  With Barry as he was, he stood no chance of remembering anything Len said.  Might as well speak the truth.  “I missed you a lot.”

“You did?”  Barry asked, his tearful eyes glistening.

“Traveling through time is… incredible.”  Len said slowly.  “Seeing things I never thought possible.  I was a cowboy, a spy against Russia, and hell, apparently, even a bomb to stop the Time Master assholes…  But as much fun as I had, stealing from everyone, breaking out of prisons, and saving the world from a homicidal maniac, I always wanted to come home.  To you.”

“Love you.”  Barry’s eyes fluttered, his crying spell having taken all the energy he had.

Len stared in shock as Barry fell back asleep.  Len had to be dreaming.  Having a nightmare.  Or the virus fried his brain.  No way he could’ve just admitted that he loved Len.  It was impossible.  They hadn’t even been dating.  Sure, yes, they had a relationship filled with bantering, and trust, and an… admitted very unusual amount of sexual tension.  But so many Heroes had that with their nemeses.  Batman has Catwoman, he’d met Selina Kyle briefly once, she was just like him, and Green Arrow had slept with more than one of his villainesses, if Sarah’s account was to be believed.  And Len, while maybe not as much of recurring villain as Reverse Flash or Zoom, was Flash’s number one nemesis.  He had the ultimate blackmail on him, he had betrayed him before, though, only to have Barry come back to him once again.  However, that had not been his fault.  Lisa had gone to Team Flash for help, not him.  And when he trusted Barry to save his sister, when he didn’t kill him on his father’s orders, despite the risk to Lisa’s life, it had been because he believed Barry could save everyone that night.  And yes, he had approved Barry as a visitor when he was in prison for his father’s murder, but that was simply to thank the man for saving his sister.  That couldn’t have been because Barry was in love with him.  Barry was like that with others who he saw good in.  It hadn’t just been him.  It couldn’t have just been him.

Len started counting seconds, one of his main ways to get out of a panicked spiral.  Whether Barry loved him or not, he still had a job to do.  Barry loving him made no effect on making sure Barry didn’t die.  When he had first offered this safehouse, he had already known in his mind he would do whatever he could to help Barry.  Besides, he couldn’t get a proper answer out of the hero unless he survived, mental faculties intact.  He needed himself out of his anxiety, so did Barry.

Once he’d gotten himself back in control, he realized the washcloths now matched Barry’s temperature.  So he got himself back into his task at hand, taking care of the speedster.  He replaced the washcloths, and replaced the pillow underneath Barry’s head, wanting to throw the pillowcase in the laundry.  The sheets were next, as Barry’s sweat had soaked through them.  Len worked meticulously, thinking only of his duty and not dwelling on anything personal.  As he finished putting the sheets in the laundry and setting the washer, he returned to Barry.

Barry was squirming with what little energy he had, moaning almost incoherently.

“Barry, it’s alright, you’re alright.”  Len murmured, in the voice he used to comfort Lisa back when they were children.

“Snart, no, no please,”  Barry moaned.  “No, no, no, don’t, don’t, please.”

Of course he was dreaming about Len.  Made sense given his fevered brain was trying to process seeing what he considered a dead man.

“Wake up, Barry.”  Len whispered.  “You’re okay, wake up, Barry.”

Barry’s breathing picked up at Len’s voice, and his face screwed up in pain.  “Come back, don’t leave me, please, Snart, Lenny, Lenny!”  His legs kicked out, tangling the sheets, his arms weakly reaching out in random directions, as if grasping at air.

“Barry, kid, wake up!  Wake up!  It’s just a nightmare!”  Len shouted, trying to shake his shoulders.

“NO, LEN!”  Barry came awake with a scream, jolting up in bed.  Len caught him by the chest, with Barry sinking into him as he became conscious.

“It’s alright, Barry, you’re alright.”  Len whispered, reaching out and petting Barry’s hair.  It was sweaty and greasy, but Len’s fingers were almost on fire at the feeling.  He felt a desire previously unknown to him ignite, one he’d worked so hard to hide from others and from himself.

“Snart?”  Barry asked, sounding coherent but exhausted.

“Call me Len, kid.”  Len mumbled into Barry’s ear, thinking if he’d admitted to loving the criminal, he may as well call him by his first name.

“You’re alive?”  Barry asked, and Len knew he was back to square one.

“I’m alive.”  Len stated simply, fighting the urge to burrow into Barry’s hair and never come out.

Barry didn’t say anything else and neither did Len.  Neither moved.

Len’s phone rang, startling them both.

“I have to answer that.”  Len said, gently setting Barry down on the bed.  “News?”

“We have a cure.”  Dr. Snow sounded as exhausted as Len felt but triumphant.  “We’re almost at your place.”

“I’ll be by the door.”  Len said, hanging up.  They had previously “met” there before, to give Len more antivirals once Barry had already gone through his first regiment.  They’d dropped it off on the doorstep and Len had only opened the door after they were back inside their van.

Len waited by the door, just in case.  Dr. Snow and Ramon arrived within five minutes, hoping out of their car.  They dropped a small package and a small note on his doorstep before running back to their car.  He snatched it up without further ado.

Snart-

This cure should absolutely work for Barry, I designed it specially for him, and I tested it on samples of his DNA that we’ve used in the past.  But since this cure is for Barry alone, we can’t give it to him ourselves.  I haven’t designed a cure for all metahumans, the virus keeps evolving to affect certain powers differently, so if I get infected, we’re back to square one.  Call me immediately, I’m still waiting outside.  I’ll walk you through administering it.

Caitlin Snow

He did as she asked, and she gave him exact step-by-step directions he followed to the letter.

“How will I know if it works?”  Len asked, once the cure was in Barry’s sleeping system.

“His fever should break within the hour.”  Dr. Snow replied.  “He should become lucid after that.”

“Great.  You’ll take him after that then, I’m sure.”  Len sighed.

“Actually, I’m not so sure.”  Dr. Snow said hesitantly.  “Because this thing evolves so quickly, I need to make sure that Star Labs is cleared before we bring him back.  If another strain has evolved that I can’t fight, we’re back to square one.  And I’m not even sure when exactly Barry won’t be contagious anymore.  I needed to focus on curing Barry before this killed him before I worried about how long someone could be contagious.”

“So how long do I have to keep him here?”  He asked.

“One more day and I should have all the answers I need.”  Dr. Snow said.

“Well that’s just peachy.”  Len muttered, but part of him was thankful.  He could easily corner Barry and get the answers he needed out of him, as he literally couldn’t leave.

“If someone else needs to come in and watch him-” Dr. Snow started.

“No,” Len sighed, “I’ve already come this far with his shit.  You’ll just owe me another one.”

“Snart-” Dr. Snow said.

“Relax, doc,  I won’t hurt him.”  Len said, dipping back into his Captain Cold voice.  “I can handle one more day.  Oh, and order me some food.  You’re buying.”

“Fine.”  Dr. Snow huffed.  “Is Big Belly Burger okay?  Barry needs a lot of calories to regain his strength.  More so than a normal human.”

Len agreed, rattled off his order, and hung up.

After waiting for forty agonizing minutes, and after finally dragging himself away to  make himself a cup of coffee, Barry finally woke up.

“Snart?”  Barry muttered, sitting up slowly.  “You’re alive?”

“For the millionth time, yes.”  Len said, easily slipping back into Captain Cold.  “And you’ve saved the city, Mick isn’t here, and no, you’re not dreaming.”

“I take it we’ve had this conversation before.”  Barry said.

“Perhaps once or twice.”  Len said.  “How are you feeling?”

“Um, like jelly.  Actually like jelly got hit by a truck”  Barry replied, as if testing out his body for the answer.  He finally began to realize his surroundings.  “Why?  Wait, where am I?  When did I get here?”

“Your friends dropped you off, don’t you remember that?”  Len said, deciding to screw with him a bit.  He had certainly missed it.  “Something about being unable to resist my charms anymore and them giving me a gift for coming back from the dead?  I mean, why do you think you’re not wearing pants?”

Barry sputtered, as red as his suit, looking outraged.  “That didn’t happen!  Now what really happened, Snart, or I’m going to run right back to Star Labs.”

“You’re so easy to toy with, Scarlet.”  Len smiled, enjoying himself for the first time since he’d come back to Central City.  “No, apparently, when you went after the metahuman virus, you stopped the bad guy but got the virus.  Since both if your lovely science friends are metahumans, I graciously offered an old safe house that Mick could burn down when you were cured.  Dr. Snow said you had to stay at least a day more so she can make sure you’re not contagious anymore.  You owe me, by the way.”

Barry took in the information in silence.  “How did you survive?  Ray said you died.”

Len groaned.  Of course it had been Raymond who spilled the beans.

“I didn’t so much survive as something put me back together.”  Len admitted.  “What I destroyed was basically time itself, and time has a way of functioning like it wants to, no matter what who tries to write life otherwise.  And it wanted me back.”

Barry nodded.  “What did it feel like?”

Len frowned.  “I’m not sure I can put it in words.  It felt…”

“Like a thrumming all over your body?”  Barry offered.  “Like a force, a force that felt like an eternity and one second all at once?  Like every nerve on fire but no pain?”

“Something like that.”

“The speed force is what I call it, I think that’s it name.”  Barry explained at Len’s awed look.  “It’s how I got my powers, how all speedsters use their powers.”

“I’m not a speedster.”  Len said.  “I’ve never had any powers.”

“I’m not sure how to explain it.”  Barry rubbed his hand on his neck.

The doorbell rang.

“Ah, food’s here.  Courtesy of your Dr. Snow.”  Len said, tipping the young man generously.

They ate in tensioned silence.  It wasn’t quite uncomfortable, but Barry definitely knew something was different between them.  Len had to admit though, Barry could put food away like a champ.  He must’ve eaten five double cheeseburgers before Len finished his first one.

“All right, I can’t take this anymore.”  Barry said.  Len cocked an eyebrow.  “There’s something you’re hiding from me.  I know you, Snart, don’t try to deny it.”

“Call me Len, kid.”  Len said.  “I’ll not have this conversation with that name.”

Confusion took over Barry’s face.  “Len, then.”

“We haven’t been on one date and yet you love me.”  Len stated.

Barry blushed, and stuttered out, “What?  What- what makes you sa- think that?”

“You told me.”  Len said easily, taking a drink from his coffee.  “You told me not five hours ago, right on that very bed.”

He wasn’t sure how, but Barry got even redder.  “I did?”

“Yep.”  Len popped the ‘p’.  “I have to admit, your fever was at its zenith.”

“I was just sick.”  Barry said defensively, entirely too quick to latch onto the excuse.  “Nothing more!  Totally just a fever dream, I probably thought you were Iris or Patty.”

“No you certainly did not.”  Len said, starting to get annoyed at Barry’s obvious lie and his heart ached.  “You were talking to me.  You said you missed me and you thought it was your fault.  You did not mistake me, Barry.  You said you loved me.”

Barry’s mouth opened, as if going to lie again but he closed it.

“I don’t think I’m in love with you.”  Barry admitted.

“But there is something there?”  Len easily saw through his lie of omission.

Barry blushed harder, ducking his head.

“Just get it over with already.”  Barry muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?”  Len asked.

“Get it over with!”  Barry said, fresh tears brewing.  “Laugh at me, kick me out, leave me here alone, just do it already!  Stop staring at me like that, I know I fell in love with someone who wouldn’t love me back, it’s a curse for me, I know!  I know you don’t love me back so just make fun of me or kick me out or whatever!  Just do it!”

Len stared at him, completely in shock.

Barry groaned.  “Look, thanks for letting me crash here.  But I think I’ll be better off somewhere else.”

He made to stand and wobbled a bit as he put weight on his feet.

“Sit back down.”  Len said, harsher than he intended.  Barry froze but stayed standing.  “Seriously, Scarlet, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Len easily moved him back to sitting on the bed.

“You never cease to surprise me, Scarlet.”  Len said, finally regaining control of his thoughts.  “I’m speechless.”

Barry stared warily at him.

“Why?”  Len finally asked, sitting down beside him.  “I’ve been nothing but cruel to you.”

“That’s not true.”  Barry said.  “I think it started when your father put that bomb in Lisa’s neck.  You kept pushing me away, and I realized it wasn’t because you hated me.  You didn’t want me there because you didn’t him to hurt me.  I heard you, you know.  After he ‘shot’ me.  I heard the real grief in your voice, even if in that moment, you chose your sister over me, which I completely understand.  And then you didn’t shoot me.  He told you to, threatened Lisa’s life, and you didn’t shoot me.  I mean, yeah, you shot your father but, off the record, I know exactly why you did.  I’ve wanted to kill Reverse Flash plenty of times for murdering my mother.  I just… didn’t.  And then you let me visit you in prison, more than once! And then, when Mardon and Jesse broke you out, you totally could’ve taken advantage of that, of me, but you didn’t  You even went so far as to warn me!  I know you said that it was because of Lisa, but it didn’t feel like that to me.  And then, you joined the Legends and Ray told me you died a hero. You died a hero and one of the last things I told you was there was good in you, that you could be more than just a thief.”

“I joined the Legends because Hunter played to my ego, and I thought I would be the smartest person in the room at all times.”  Len admitted.  “I thought I could steal from the greatest treasures of time and be remembered as the greatest thief of all time.  If I’m being perfectly honest, I didn’t even think about you until we left and I started to miss you.”

Barry turned to look at him.

“You missed me?”  Barry asked, and a small crack broke through Len’s heart.

“Since it seems we’re both baring our feelings today,” Len rolled his eyes, “yes I did.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“Are you going back to the Legends?”  Barry asked, breaking the silence.

“Eventually, I suppose.”  Len shrugged.  “I’m not really sure if I have a place in this world anymore.  When I first returned to Central City, I wanted nothing to do with them.  Now, I understand why Mick stayed with them.  I’ll end up going back, but probably not for a while.”

“So you’ll stay here?”  Barry asked.  “At least for a little while?”

Len nodded.

“Good.  That’s good.”  Barry said, awkwardness radiating off him like a neon sign.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

“Are you gonna ask me or are you gonna make me ask you?”  Len said, unable to take it anymore.

“Ask?”  Barry repeated.

Len rolled his eyes.  “You want me to stay because you’ve got a thing for me.  I missed you while I was galavanting through time.  There’s some obvious sexual tension when we fight.  Time, or the Speed Force, whatever you wanna call it, I think it gave me back to you.  And, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but a… partnership between us could be,” Len shoved down the image somehow now vivid in his head, Barry happy, himself smiling, lying in bed together just enjoying life, “mutually beneficial.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”  Barry asked, as if Len had asked him if he wanted a million dollars.  Disbelief, confusion, but underneath, excitement, happiness, and so, so hopeful.

Len nodded jerkily.  Mentally, he made a pact with himself.  Lisa and Mick could never know, as they’d know how ridiculous he was acting and would make fun of him for the rest of their lives.

“I’d like that.”  Barry’s quiet admission, like he couldn’t believe his eyes made up for how terrible a flirt he was being.

“Peachy.”  He said, on instinct.

Barry laughed tiredly.

“You should get some rest.”  Len said.  “You’ve been out for the better part of two days, and that was just with me.”

Barry nodded slowly, laying back down.  “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

Len nodded, resisting the urge to chuckle at Barry’s blush.  “Go to sleep, Scarlet.  I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Whumptober Prompt #10 Unconscious

Hey guys!  I’m back!  I slept through a lot of yesterday, my antihistamines can make me drowsy, but I did manage to finish this one!  I’m gonna post #10 and then #11 a bit later I will be unable to post tomorrow for the most part.  So enjoy two prompts today!  Let’s start with some Lucifer!

Lucifer wasn’t sleeping.  That she saw clearly.  It wasn’t as bad as the week long bender he’d gone on when Maze tricked him into thinking he was flying and saving people in his sleep, but this was definitely up there.  Hair disheveled, suit wrinkled, eyeliner smudged, eyes red, occasionally going off on seriously crazy tangents, he hadn’t called her Booth yet but she was waiting for it.

“Chloe?  You okay?” Ella asked, concerned.

Chloe snapped back to herself.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.  I was just thinking.”

“About?”  Ella asked.  “You think of a new lead?”

She looked about as tired as Chloe felt.  This case, a serial killer who left biblical verses in the victim’s blood, had everyone working overtime.  She’d even found Dan asleep at his desk, when she and Lucifer went to give him another cup of coffee.  Lucifer, in a surprisingly kind move, had simply adjusted him so he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck while sleeping.  And since Lucifer didn’t “need” sleep, he was helping with everything he could.  When one of them collapsed, he made them as comfortable as he could, and took over what they were doing.

The problem was, “The Adversary” as he called himself, left almost no evidence and there was very little connection between the victims, his last one being a young, single mother, a girl just barely twenty-one with a one year old son left to foster care.  The only thing that connected all of his victims was the biblical messages he wrote, all quotes by the Adversary about testing the human soul, each of which incensed Lucifer more and more as time went on.  According to him, Lucifer was “The Adversary”, as before his Fall.  His Father had sent him to test the humans He deemed worthy, or “the ones He wanted to write the bloody books”.  Lucifer, already infuriated that someone had the nerve to call himself a version of the Devil, had grown angrier with each killing, saying that when he tested someone, it had never been so senseless.  Lucifer had admitted the day before, more than likely completely unaware of it, that when he did his Father’s work to test humans, he knew if they passed the test, He would reward them for being faithful and never straying.  And if they failed, he knew his Father was right to test them as they weren’t living honestly.  But this had no reward at the end of it.  Their souls would ascend to Heaven or fall to Hell and that was it.  No eternal reward, no true test of character, just a madman with a knife and not being fast enough to run away, or in one case, not being able to withstand blunt force trauma.  That wasn’t punishment, that wasn’t testing someone.  That was just senseless death.

“I’m worried about Lucifer.”  Chloe said.

“Yeah I know.”  Ella agreed.  “I swear, I know he’s “the Devil” but seriously, he needs to take a break or he’s going to crash so hard.

Chloe sighed. “I don’t think he will until we catch this guy.”

“Yeah, he always take these biblical cases so hard.”  Ella replied.  “I mean, I know he’s really into the character, but he’s got to take a break sometime.  I mean, he’s only human.”

One of Ella’s machines beeped.  Ella went to check it.  Chloe stopped in her tracks, reminding herself that Ella did not know the truth.  Chloe had once tried to slyly suggest it to her, but Ella had just laughed it off.  Whether she wasn’t ready to face the truth, or just didn’t comprehend was Chloe was really trying to say, she didn’t know.

She walked back over to where Lucifer was looking over some surveillance video on her computer.  “Hey.”

His head snapped up three seconds too late.  “Detective.  Any luck?”

“Not yet.”  She said, and saw his shoulders slump a little further.

“Well.  Must press on, then.”  Lucifer gave her a shaky smile.

“Lucifer, you need to rest.”  She tried.

“I’m the Devil, darling.”  Lucifer recited by rote, already immersed back in his current fixation. “I don’t need rest.”

“Guys!”  Ella came running out of her office, holding a folder in her hands.  “I know how he’s picking his victims!”

Once Ella had figured out they had all had the same type of alcohol in their stomachs, which all but hid the traces of a roofie type drug in their system, she was able to trace the connection that they all went to a bar three hours before they died, and due to the radius of the killings, she was able to pin down five potential bars that sold that particular mix of liquor.  Financial statements showed that two victims, the ones who didn’t pay cash, went to the Heavenleaf Bar.  Once that bar was found, it was a phone call for a list of employees away from a cross reference between employees who had shifts when the victims were there and who was off shift when the victims were killed.  That had only left one name- Abe McMillion.  A man who heard his victims complain to their bartender, the shoulder who was supposed to help them ease their sorrows and instead shoved a knife into their body for their ‘sins’.  A man with no history of mental illness, who simply hated the people he served.  Chloe would never admit it, but she felt a sick sense of satisfaction when Lucifer revealed his true face, she had long grown used to it, though his scars still made her worried about him.  McMillion had been reduced to a blubbering mess, saying the religious aspect was to throw the police off his trail.  He hadn’t even really read the Bible.  Chloe arrested him, and sent him to booking where he could be processed.

“Lucifer?”  Chloe said, gently reaching out to his shoulder.

Lucifer startled.  “Yes, Detective?”

“Head home.”  Chloe said.  “The new lieutenant gave us a half day for tomorrow, we can finish paperwork later.  You should rest.”

Lucifer gave her a small smile.  “You need to go home as well, darling.  The spawn hasn’t seen you in a while.  Don’t mind me.”

“Trixie is with Dan for the night.”  Chloe said, having already asked Dan who jumped at the chance to see his daughter on a non-designated Daddy-Daughter night.  When he asked why, she simply replied that she needed to drive Lucifer home as he was in no shape to do so.  Dan had understood that, and the trouble driving Lucifer meant for everyone involved.  “Let me drive you home.”

“Detective, I adore you in every way.”  Lucifer smiled his usual flirtatious smile. “But you are not driving my car.  No one drives my car but me.”

“Except Trixie.”  Chloe muttered, pulling his attention back to when he had made a deal with Trixie to get him into the “progressive” school for driving lessons.

Lucifer frowned.  “A deal is a deal, Detective, I never go back on my word.”

“Then make a deal with me.”  Chloe offered.  “Go home and sleep, and I won’t bug you about driving your car.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I can’t make that deal at the moment.”  Lucifer said, trying to play it off.  “Lux will be rip roaring with people tonight and I’ll have my hands full.”

Chloe’s heart sank.

“Then how about we spend a little time together tonight?”  She tried.  “I can drive you home tonight, we can hang out a little at your penthouse, grab some dinner and I’ll pick you up tomorrow on my way into work?”

Lucifer frowned, as if trying to deduce her intentions.  Chloe kept her face as still as possible.  “I’m… amenable to that.”

“It’s a deal then.”  She said, knowing those words just sealed her victory.

“I am a Devil of my word, Detective.”  Lucifer said, gathering his belongings.  “Though I do hate to leave my car alone for a night.”

“It’s in a police station.”  Chloe said.  “Nowhere could be safer.”

Lucifer smiled, a real one, one she had missed this past week.  “If you insist, darling.  Lead the way.”

Chloe drove him home in near complete silence.  She kept glancing Lucifer’s way, seeing him fight to stay awake.  When they arrived at Lux, Lucifer glided into the club like he wasn’t about to drop, shaking hands with his bouncers, asking about their days.  That had surprised her once, thinking that Lucifer wasn’t the type to care about his employee’s day-to-day lives, but he made sure that every single one of his employees had everything they needed.  It made sense, when she thought about it, though.  Lucifer embodied righteous punishment, and the “punishment” his staff faced, such as being abused for being LGBT+ or being threatened by poverty or homelessness was not deserved nor righteous.  It was not his Father testing them.  It was human cruelty, and Lucifer was not one to give in to human cruelty.

They made their way up to the elevator.

“Anything fancy you for tonight?”  Lucifer asked, as if talking would help him stay awake.

“What?”  She replied.

“For dinner.”  Lucifer said.  “You must be starved, I know I am.  Shall we order in?  I fear I’m not really up to cooking tonight.”

“Ordering in sounds great.”  Chloe said, slightly relieved that Lucifer wouldn’t attempt to work a stove or oven in his state.  “How about Chinese?”

Lucifer perked up.  “I know a great place over on Santa Monica Boulevard.”

“Do they deliver?”  She asked.

“They’ll deliver for me.”  Lucifer smirked.  “Your usual?”

Chloe nodded and they arrived at his penthouse just as Lucifer was ordering in fluent Mandarin.  She set her purse down on the couch, and dug through it to find her chapstick, and found another small vial she thought she had gotten rid of.  Father Kinley had given her the “sedative” back in Rome, so she could send the Devil back to Hell.  She had taken it in a moment of weakness, not that she wanted to send Lucifer back to Hell, but being away from him for a month made her memories of him seem different.  She should’ve known that’s exactly what Kinley was preying on, and when she found Lucifer again back in L.A., she had told Father Kinley that she knew what Lucifer was and she was not going to send him back to Hell.  Lucifer may be the Devil, but he was her Lucifer, the one who literally gave a stranger the clothes off his back, the one who loved her daughter, at least enough to suffer through her childish whims and try to teach her how to drive in his car, the one who cried in her arms after he realized that God Johnson was not the man he thought he was (though that may have been the drugs).  She didn’t care if he was the Devil.  Maybe Ella was right.  The Devil really does get a bad rap.

She had meant to get rid of the vial.  She hadn’t wanted anything to do with Father Kinley or the prophecy she was sure he made up, or anything else that painted Lucifer as being as manipulative as he called his Father.  The Prince of Lies was something humanity used to justify using Lucifer as a scapegoat.  She knew his true face and it did not scare her anymore.  But… she wondered if it hadn’t been a mistake, not getting rid of the vial.  The liquid was supposed to suppress his angelic nature and sedate him.  She remembered how he was when he didn’t sleep for a week, eyes as wild as his nature, his mind unable to form just about any coherent thought.  She slyly checked his bedroom, and found his room unlived in for at least a few days.  She stuffed the vial down into her purse and grabbed her chapstick, putting it on quickly.  She knew he hated being lied to, and lying by omission definitely counted, but hopefully, he would never catch on to what she thought about doing.

They chatted amicably on the couch, Lucifer only leaving to pour them both drinks, until food arrived, piping hot and Lucifer went to pay the delivery man.  After he gave the young man a hefty tip, he brought the food to the couch.  They bounced off each other as they ate, Chloe feeling like she did before she found out that her lieutenant was the first murderer, a criminal mastermind, and trying to marry her because he found out she made immortals mortal.  Granted, that knowledge also came with Lucifer’s true face, and once she got her head on straight, she appreciated that knowledge.  She appreciated him.

“All right, Lucifer, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”  Chloe said, after they had finished their meal and cleaned up after themselves.

“I think I shall pop down to Lux for a little while.”  Lucifer said.  “I’ll ride the elevator down with you though.”

“Lucifer, you need to sleep.”  She stressed.

“I don’t need sleep, Detective.”  Lucifer said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.  “I am the Devil.”

“Lucifer, please, I’m worried about you.”  Chloe said.  “You haven’t slept in days.”

“No need, Detective.”  Lucifer said, definitely defensive now.  “I am not in need of assistance, nor do you need to worry.  I am perfectly capable of handling things myself, I don’t need humans meddling into my Devil work.”

She pursed her lips.  She knew he was hiding something.  “Lucifer, please.  Don’t push me out.  Last time this happened we were a mess.  I don’t want that to happen this time.”

“This is not comparable.”  Lucifer said.  “Maze is not tricking me this time.  I… simply do not wish to sleep.  This case… affected me more than I expected but I am not going to give in to my Father’s manipulations and dreams and I’m going to do what I want.  And I don’t want to sleep.”

Nightmares.  She should’ve known.  No wonder he wasn’t sleeping.  His solution to these problems was to run himself into the ground until he literally couldn’t anymore.

“Then let me at least get a drink for the road.”  She said, changing course.  “If you’ve got this completely under control, I should head home.  Do you have any water or am I going to have to drink from the tap?”

Lucifer gave a surprised chuckle.  “I do have water, Detective.  Staying hydrated is a very important part of-”

“Just water, please.

When he got up to pour her one last drink, she quickly grabbed Lucifer’s glass of bourbon and poured in three drops from the vial- hoping if it was poison, three drops wouldn’t be deadly.  After all, he was the Devil.  No human poison should affect him.

She hoped.

He returned easily, and he took his bourbon, unaware.  She offered a small toast, and he clinked their glasses together, downing his leftover alcohol in one gulp.  He immediately swayed, holding onto the bar for support.

“Lucifer, are you alright?”  Chloe asked, panic flooding her system.  She couldn’t believe it.  She’d just poisoned him.  She’d just killed the best partner she’d ever had.

“‘M fine, Det’ive.”  Lucifer said.  “I’m… I just got so… tired… all of a sudden.”

“You need to go to bed, now.”  Chloe said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

She half-carried, half-walked him to his bed, setting him down on the side.  He fumbled with his buttons, his eyes half-lidded, his fingers sloppy and uncoordinated.  She helped him out of his suit jacket, then his button-up.  When he realized what she was doing, his fingers dropped loosely to the side and he stared at her with glazed eyes.  She decided to leave the pants on because there was no way that she could lift him to get them off, and she wasn’t sure he was wearing underwear underneath and she didn’t want to add sexual to her assault on him.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer, I’m so sorry.”  Chloe said, helping him lie down on his side.

She was half-tempted to run, to get as far away from what she’d done as she could, to run and run and run and maybe that would save him.

Lucifer weakly grabbed onto her wrist.  “Stay.  Please.”

His drug-addled mind had confused what she was apologizing for.  His eyes were barely open but he seemed so desperate for her not to leave.  She couldn’t deny him.

“Okay, just let me get you some water.”  She whispered.

By the time she found the stash of bottled water and come back, he was already unconscious.

She immediately put two fingers to his neck, feeling a strong pulse underneath.  She checked his breathing.  He seemed alright.

“Oh God, what have I done?”  Chloe whispered.  She knew she wouldn’t get an answer.

She moved one of his chairs into his bedroom, curling into it, staring straight at him.  She had to watch for anything that could be signs of a weakening heartbeat, or him not being able to breathe.  Then she knew she would have to run, whether he wanted her there or not.  Since they became close, she had always known she had to protect him.  She just never thought she’d have to protect him from herself.

“Not that this isn’t is a lovely sight to wake up to, but I think you’ve slept long enough, darling.”  Lucifer’s voice, clear and strong, woke her.

“Lucifer!”  Chloe startled, coming awake with a gasp.  “You’re okay!”

“Yes, I’m okay.  Actually haven’t slept this well in a long time.”  Lucifer smiled at her, sitting on his bed, a fresh suit on, holding a water bottle out to Chloe.  She ignored it, standing, checking Lucifer’s pulse.

“Detective, what is the meaning of this?”  Lucifer asked, genuinely confused.

“What’s the last thing you remember from last night?”  Chloe asked.

Lucifer frowned.  “We had a lovely dinner, you were heading home, we had a toast… then I felt very, very tired.  You were heading home.  Why did you stay?  I didn’t do anything to you, did I?  Consent is not merely a mortal invention.  I do not normally black out, I’m not sure what happened.”

Chloe let out a single laugh, nearly crying.

“Detective?”

“I think I poisoned you last night.”  She admitted.

Lucifer took a step back from her.  “What do you mean?”

She explained that when she’d gone to Rome, she’d met a man named Father Kinley, who was a priest, who called him evil, who tried to manipulate her into sending him back to Hell.  A man who told her of a prophecy, that Lucifer’s love was the key to Armageddon, and how he’d found evidence of Lucifer with Nazis, in circles filled with the worst of humanity, and she hadn’t had answers that could solve why Lucifer was there.  How Kinley specialized in exorcisms and he’d given her a vial, a sedative he called it, to drug Lucifer so he could take it from there.  She’d been wary of him, he had talked so horribly but sugarcoated it so well, it took her seeing him again to realize Kinley exploited her human fears, her grief at Charlotte’s death, her dealings with Marcus/Cain, her uncertainty of how to proceed, even her daughter, for he had said that Trixie could never grow up safe while Lucifer was around, and how she’d taken the vial but never once thought of using it.  She told him that when she saw Lucifer again, heard his voice, she was reminded of who he truly was, and while that was the Devil, she knew he would do everything he could to protect her, protect Trixie.  How she gave Father Kinley a rather explicit send-off, saying he was never to contact her again, and that she chose Lucifer over him.  She told him that she had meant to get rid of the vial, but had somehow forgotten.  She didn’t know how but she forgot.  She had handed the vial to Lucifer, who studied it carefully.

“And after this case, you were so upset, you didn’t even tease Dan, and I was so worried about you and I knew you weren’t sleeping and I know what happens to you when you don’t sleep and while you’ve never told me about your nightmares, I know you get them, Devil or no, and Kinley called it a sedative and I thought a few drops couldn’t hurt, you’re Lucifer, it’ll just make you end up sleeping afterwards but you just sort of shut down, and you basically passed out and I’m so sorry Lucifer, this is all my fault!”

Chloe had somehow started crying during the speech, unable to look at Lucifer.

“You must hate me.”  She whispered.

“I don’t hate you.”  Lucifer whispered back.

She looked up at him, and saw him frowning deeply at the vial, as he did when he was concentrating, but she saw no anger on his face.  She knew he never lied.

“Detective, I don’t blame you for being afraid of me.”  Lucifer said.

“I do.”  She said.  “You’re my partner, my friend, my-” She stopped herself.  She couldn’t admit to that.  Not now, not after what she’d done.  “I trust you.  I was never afraid of you, not really.  You’ve never lied to me, from day one, and I should’ve known better. You trusted me, and I betrayed you.  I should’ve been more careful with you.  I could’ve killed you.”

“You didn’t.”  Lucifer said, his tone subdued, his eyes never leaving the vial.  “And I think you’ve already suffered the punishment for your actions.  You didn’t kill me, let’s leave it at that.

“I lied to you.”  She cried.

“You did.”  Lucifer nodded slowly.  “And I will come back to that.  But right now, I’m much more interested in this Father Kinley fellow.  How did he know you make me vulnerable?”

“I don’t know, he already knew when he met me.”  Chloe answered.

Lucifer growled, a Devilish growl, low and frightening.  “I think I sense my father’s hand in this.  Or perhaps even one of my siblings.  Human prophecies have a going rate of maybe fifty percent, and this man knows answers to questions he shouldn’t.  No mortal sedative should’ve knocked me out so quickly, not even with you there.  A few drops is not enough to do any damage to me, for a mortal drug.  He must’ve got a hold of something angelic.  That is the bigger problem.”

Chloe nodded.  “I’m so sorry, Lucifer.  I swear, I was only trying to help you.”

“I know, love.”  Lucifer’s face softened, finally making eye contact again.  She found solace in his brown eyes, seeing no resentment.  “I’ve hurt you so many times in the past that I think you deserve a few shots back at me.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you.”  She insisted.  “I won’t-” She stopped, knowing he wouldn’t like an empty promise.  “I will do everything I can to never lie to you again.”

Lucifer smiled sadly.  “Thank you, Detective.  But for now, I think we should start looking into this Father Kinley person.  He seems to be the biggest threat to my safety at the moment.  Besides, I think we’re late for work.”

Chloe gasped, she hadn’t realized how long she’d slept.  Thankfully, when she grabbed it, her phone had no updates from the station.  It seemed the lieutenant either hadn’t noticed they weren’t there, or was giving them the benefit of the doubt after such a long case.

“We should go, I need to drop you back off to your car.”  Chloe said.

“Can I drive this time?”  Lucifer asked.  “After all, you did just drug me.”

“I also shot you and you turned it into my favorite necklace.”  She said dryly, falling back in line with their banter.  “And I did drug you, I’m not letting you drive my car.  What if you suddenly pass out while driving?  We’d crash, and I’d have to get a new car, and a new partner, and I don’t want to go through the hassle of training another partner.  So I’m driving.”

She took her keys from his hands, he’d tried to sneak them away from her, and marched to the elevator.

“You coming?”  She called out.

“Of course, Detective.”  He walked over to her.

The elevator dinged.

“So it’s your favorite necklace now?”

“Shut up, Lucifer.”

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20977646

@its-not-too-bad the good news? I know how to fix this. Bad news? It might happen again. I’ve had to appeal several times. But I’m also kinda an expert.

So go to tumblr.com/support and then wait for the side menu to load. Once it does, there’s a drop down menu for category- click on my blog was incorrectly marked explicit and then in the box say that you’re a human being, not a bot, and anything else you find relevant. Then click which blog got censored, make sure it’s the right email, and do the captcha. Repeat as many times as necessary.

guys my blog was fucking censored I’m so angry NONE of what I’ve posted is explicit! Every post that got flagged was repealed immediately!

Whumptober Prompt #14 Tear-Stained

Woooooow guys!  Nineteen notes on my last post?  Last time I checked anyway.  Thank you.  Thank you all for the support.  I am kinda overwhelmed, my last one was more popular than anything I’ve ever had!  And here I am thinking that no one is reading this shit!  Thank you all.  I adore each and every one of you.  You’re amazing.  So here’s fourteen- this one is set after Killian’s death in my (Not sure if this will be the name but I need to name this damn verse) Villainous verse.  @winedark-whump if you have any suggestions, I’m open to them- fuck if anyone has any suggestions

......

It was raining.

She should’ve figured.  Of course it would rain on a day like this.  Once she would’ve danced in delight, it hardly ever truly rained here, and she had always treasured the rain when it did come.  Whenever it rained, truly rained not the usual sprinkle in the wee hours of the morning followed by thick fog and high humidity, that meant hot chocolate, cuddling on the couch, and her favorite movies.  She had always laughed when he put the same movie on for the millionth time, telling him he could pick one for once, and he would laugh back with her and say that he had chosen one.  Rainy days she always went to bed with a smile, chocolate lingering on her tongue.

She wasn’t smiling now.

Lying in bed took too much energy.  Getting up took too much energy.  Breathing took too much energy.

Knock.  Knock.  Knock.

“Little one?”  The Administrator.  “Are you awake in there?”

She found her body sitting up without her permission.  “I’m awake, sir.”

The Administrator slowly opened the door, to give her time to become decent she assumed.  She wasn’t sure where the strength to sit up was coming from, she certainly wasn’t putting on other clothes, but she did manage a proper salute.

“No need, little one.”  The Administrator waved her off, sitting on the edge of her bed.  “There is no need for such formalities in this trying time.  How are you feeling?”

She couldn’t answer him.  Though, she supposed to tear stains all over her face, stained into her pillow, her disgusting, tattered uniform she had yet to change out of was answer enough.

“I understand, my dear.”  The Administrator said kindly.  “You have no obligation to speak if you don’t want to.”

“Why…” She barely managed a whisper, but she said it, “are you here, sir?”

The Administrator sighed.  “I wanted to check up on you.  No Sidekick should lose their Hero so early.  And Soldier practically raised you, which I know makes his loss so much harder.”

She flinched away from him.

“Like I said, no obligation to speak.”  The Administrator repeated.  “But listen closely, little one.  This feeling, while you must suffer it, as all those with hearts do, are what separates us from Villains. They’re incapable of feeling grief, as that would mean they had felt love.”

She flinched, ducking her head. “Wonder told you.”

“That you called yourself a Villain because you feel what happened was your fault?”  The Administrator said, not unkindly.  “Yes, Wonder told me.  Little one, you have no need to think such terrible things.  The fact that you feel such grief, that means you are capable of feeling a great love.  You must turn that love you had for Soldier into something for the betterment of all humanity.  Heroes cannot be biased towards any minority or majority, and that love must be given freely.  This grief will soon become a source of strength for you.”

She curled into a ball, her joints cracking from stiffness.  She did not want strength right now.  She wanted Killian.

“If there is anything you need, my dear, please let us know.”  The Administrator said at last, realizing she was not going to answer him.  “We will do everything we can to rectify the situation.  Call is no matter what you need, whether it is help with rent payments, or a school tutor.  Nothing is too small or too big to call us for.”

But they couldn’t.  What she needed they couldn’t give.  She needed Killian back.  She needed a warm voice, strong hugs, gentle forehead kisses, blinding smiles, and so much laughter her heart might burst.  That was what she needed.  That was what she was lost without.

Fresh tears streaked down her face.  She went to wipe them away, to not show such weakness in front of The Administrator.  He stopped her hand.

“There is no shame in crying, little one.”  The Administrator said kindly.  “I have outlived many friends, even family.  Grief is not something to be ashamed of.  It is not a weakness.  Not yet, anyway.”

She furrowed her brow at him.

“If left too long in the grieving process, grief turns to hate.”  The Administrator explained.  “Hate leads to vengeance.  And Heroes do not seek revenge.  Revenge is something only Villains are capable of.”

“I’m not a Hero.”  She sobbed.

“Not yet, you’re not.”  The Administrator said.  “But soon you will be. Soldier’s death is a trial he could never have prepared you for, and you are facing it.  Take heart in that.  There is no need for you to submit to state testing, I have already submitted your trial as complete.”

She stared at The Administrator.  Very, very few Heroes didn’t have to go through state testing.  It was all there, the final step to become a Hero.  Psychological profiles, physicals, tests of strength and speed and everything in between, there were nine levels of passing Paradiso.  Some Heroes were excused from certain tests, only if they had already proven themselves, but no one had been excused from them all.

“Soldier would have wanted you to become a great Hero.”  The Administrator said.  “It was often the only long term goal he spoke of.  He had no interest in finding a wife, or a husband.  He only wanted you to become the Hero you were meant to be.  I intend to honor his final wish.”

“Thank you, sir.”  She said, wiping away tears.  “I won’t let you down.  I won’t let him die in vain.”

“I know you won’t.”  The Administrator said.  “I only have one order for you, little one, until your new Hero orders come in.”

“Yes, sir?”  She asked.

“Get out of those disgusting clothes and take a shower.”  The Administrator said, a touch of teasing in his voice.  “Wonder must sleep in here as well, until we catch Soldier’s killer, and you can be released to your old apartment.  And right now, my nose feels very bad for her.”

She blushed.  “Yes, sir.  I’ll do it immediately.”

The Administrator nodded and walked out the door.

Ever since Killian died, she hadn’t had the strength to get up, let alone stand in a shower.  But if the Administrator wanted her to clean herself up, she was going to do so.  She had already let Killian down, had already failed him.  She wasn’t going to fail anyone else, ever again.

Whumptober Prompt #7 Isolation and #9 Shackled

@winedark-whump So here’s a bit more about a certain Hero who needs some more character development.  I hope you enjoy it.  Dammit all, I hope you see it.  I have no idea how long this unflagged status will last me.

Line

Fayelin tested out the restraints she was locked in for what must’ve been the millionth time.  She knew she had been strapped down for her own safety, but getting out of these restraints was her top priority these past few days.  At least, she thought so.  The days blurred together without sunlight, she wasn’t sure how long she had left, but it couldn’t be too much longer.  They were already at the torture bit, and the torture bit was always last, according to her friends.

She kept her breathing as controlled as she could.  She could do this.  Killian wouldn’t have recommended her for the higher level courses if she couldn’t handle it.  Sure, minor Heroes-in-training weren’t allowed to take these courses because they were too young, but Killian knew her limits.  He had pulled a few strings to get her into this test.  He believed in her, she couldn’t let him down.

The cacophony of sounds was awful, but bearable, at least at first.  She knew it would get worse.  But this exercise was about being able to withstand unbearable torture, and to be able to escape when the time came.  She hadn’t been given permission to escape yet, but she was allowed to figure a way out beforehand.  A Hero should always be able to escape any situation, with as few injuries as possible.  That’s what the whole test was, you had to escape capture, with off duty Heroes pretending to be villains, after being able to withstand torture.

The sounds were growing louder.  There were newly added screams, screams she could’ve sworn she recognized.  She could’ve sworn she heard one of her best friends, Wonder, it sounded just like her.  They were definitely pulling from her personal background, that was definitely Gold, followed closely by Glitter.  She was rather close with the twins.  She supposed it was be able to withstand others getting tortured as well, more than one Villain tortured two heroes at once by torturing only one and making the other watch.  She could withstand that easily.  As much as she loved her friends, just hearing them scream was nothing.  Villains tortured, that was a fact of their lifestyle. Screams were just a way she could tell they were still alive.  Killian had told her several times to listen to how he screamed, as he would communicate to her through them.

Speak of the devil, Soldier’s screams were coming through now.  She wondered how they had gotten his screams because he wasn’t communicating, that was simply pain.  Fayelin blocked out the noise, after all, it was just noise, and went back to the restraints.  Thick iron wrapped solidly around her wrists with a thick chain wrapping around the legs of the bed.  It was made to withstand those with super strength but her strength was not her greatest ally here.  Her mind was.

“Remember little one, a Hero’s power can be their strength and weakness, only a Hero’s mind is their true strength.”

Killian was right after all.  Some Villains could take or copy abilities, but no one could take someone’s mind.  She just had to focus.  Killian had taught her to pick locks without her gift.  She simply needed something long and sharp, like one of the pins in her hair.  Problem was getting it.  She couldn’t lift her arms very high, her legs had weights on them, her hips were tied down with rope, and she wasn’t allowed to get off the bed until release was granted.  Her biggest advantage was how tiny she was, no matter how much she hated being so small.  If she played her cards right, she could slip between the ropes and slid herself into a position where she could grab a hairpin.  So she flexed some of her leg muscles, pulling on the ropes tautness.  When she felt her opening, she went for it.  She slid through the ropes, and got her hand to her left wrist, pulling a nonessential hairpin from her hair.  She always kept a few extra that didn’t keep up her ridiculous hairdo.  Logically, she knew her hairdo marked her status as a Sidekick, and Killian had spent a lot of time designing it, but the minute she became her own Hero, she was changing it.  She looked more like a sci-fi character than a Sidekick.

She hid the hairpin in her hand, just in case.  Then she drowned out the screams, she drowned out the crashing, the screeching, the breaking glass, the breaking of bones and focused.  Killian was trusting her to prove that he hadn’t made a mistake taking her on so early.  Other Heroes has whispered she wasn’t ready, that Killian was mad for taking a sidekick so young, that she couldn’t compete with her peers.  She couldn’t wait until she wiped those smirks off their faces.

“Heroes are now allowed to fight their way out of Caina.”  A loudspeaker spoke.  “If medical assistance is needed, then please contact Heroes before the rendezvous point is reached.”

She easily picked the lock of the left chain, then the right.  She kept the weights on her feet, to further her impact if she ran into anyone with invulnerability or super strength.  She was small, so she needed every advantage.  Once she broke out of the cell, a simple task with her gift pinpointing the systems weaknesses, she easily ran down the corridors.  She had all but grown up in Caina, where she was allowed to go anyway.  No one except a few Heroes were allowed to the lower levels (as that was where they kept unredeemable Villains, those with high body counts and usually personal vendettas against Heroes.  The two Killian had put down there had killed more than one Hero).  So working her way through was easier, she had no problems finding wherever she wanted to go.

Her first problem was Jerry.  That wasn’t his name, but she couldn’t pronounce his very Russian Hero name, but she thought he looked like a Jerry so Jerry it was.  Jerry had gravitational density manipulation, so he could give himself super strength when he wanted to, which was often his main weapon.

“I’m glad to see you out, little one, but I’m afraid this is the end of the line.”  Jerry cooed.

She growled. She hated when they treated her like a little kid.  But it did give her one great advantage.  They treated her like a little kid in fights as well.  She was often underestimated.

So when Jerry made an obvious feint to her right, she used his own momentum against him, flipping herself up using his arm and bringing her legs down  on the back of his neck.  She didn’t need to knock him fully unconscious, she just needed to run fast enough away that he couldn’t catch her.  So after making contact, she used the movement to propel herself forward and she made it past him.

Two more corridors to get through.  She could hear and feel the last Hero she would see inside Caina.  She snickered.  She’d nicknamed him Marshmallow because he was so soft and gooey on the inside, especially with children, and had the intelligence of a sugar molecule.  He used to give all the little Sidekicks or minor Heroes-in-training rides on his back when their Heroes were busy.  He was a solid mass of blue skin, muscles, and a mouth he couldn’t quite close.  She always thought of that old comic book series, back when those with unnatural abilities were considered fantasy.  Grundy, she believed he was called.  He would be easy enough, as she wouldn’t make the mistake everyone else makes when facing him.  Fighting him was unneccessary and stupid, it just wore you out and that’s how he caught his criminals.  He simply outlasted them in strength.  All she had to do was keep moving forward.

“Stop little one.”  He grumbled, raising his fists above his head.

She slid underneath his feet, unable to watch the confusion on his face.  Once through, she scrambled to her feet and kept running.  She was almost through to the end of the test, dodging explosions.  There were no mines in Caina, just in case some random civilian came wandering in, as this base wasn’t on a map to protect the people living here.  So that meant that other Heroes with gifts similar to hers would be launching projectiles ranging from cannonball size to actual missiles.  So once she made it to the open clearing that they used to hide the base, she turned around to see the five projectiles heading toward her.  Those were easy enough to dodge with her gift, after all, she never missed a step.  Dodging an explosion was simply a matter of jumping off debris at the right time and only putting a certain amount of weight down at a time.  That had been one of the first ways Killian had tested out the extent of her powers.

She made it to the end of the clearing, and found the rendezvous point.  Killian, and three other Heroes were waiting for their Sidekicks, with The Administrator.  She didn’t see any other Sidekicks but that didn’t mean she was first.  Once The Administrator said you passed, Heroes were allowed to leave to celebrate.  She skidded on her knees until she reached Killian, and stuck her leg out to stop herself, arresting momentum in a kneeling stance, arms crossed over her chest.

“Sir!  I have escaped Caina as ordered in the fastest manner I could, sir!”  She said.

“Well done.”  Killian said.

She fought the smile threatening to burst out.  Killian rarely praised her in front of other Heroes as to not seem unprofessional.

“You do continue to surprise young one.”  The Administrator said, his voice sounding as old as he was.  He was the oldest of their program, for this country at least.  He had once been a great Hero until he had finally gotten too old to keep up with the growing threat of Villains and now trained other Heroes to take his place.   “You are the youngest to ever complete this test, let alone unscathed.”

“Screams are just noise, sir.”  Fayelin said, bowing her head.  “Screams and begs for mercy will not interfere with how I do my job.  I cannot always trust what I am seeing or hearing so I cannot allow it to influence my work.”

“Good answer.”  The Administrator said.  “Villains will look for any excuse and will go to every new low you can think of to trick Heroes.  You must have the ultimate strength of will if you are to resist them.”

“I shall always endeavor for that strength.”  She replied.

“She has answered well, Soldier.”  The Administrator said.  “However, there is the matter of her age.”

She cursed silently.

“Heroes her age are not to be in this test.”  The Administrator said.  “While she has proven she is ready, we must abide by our own laws or we are no better than the criminals we hunt.”

“Sir, she turns sixteen in two months.”  Killian said.  “What is the difference between her being ready now and her being ready in two months?”

“I have not finished, Soldier, you would do well to not interrupt me.”  The Administrator snapped and even Fayelin saw the other Heroes flinch at his tone.  No one pissed off the Administrator.

“I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”  Killian said, bowing his head.

“I assure you, it won’t.”  The Administrator said. “As I was saying, we must abide by our own laws.  And our laws state that a Hero-in-training cannot become a Sidekick until they are sixteen.  However, due to this unparalleled show of bravery, control, and skill, I am allowing this passing grade to transfer over in two months.  She will become your Sidekick on the day of her sixteenth birthday.”

She couldn’t fight that smile from spreading across her face, and it seemed neither could Killian.

“You may rise, Arrow.”  The Administrator said, and she slowly stood.

“Sir, isn’t it my job to choose her Sidekick name?”  KIllian whispered.

“Do not test your limits further, Soldier.”  The Administrator said coldly.  “You should feel lucky that I will not put you on probation for those two months of waiting.  If she hadn’t performed as admirably as she did, I assure you, you would’ve been suspended for putting her in this test.  Now, you will take Arrow as a Sidekick in two months.”

“Yes, sir.”  Killian said, saluting.  She very quickly followed suit.

“And Miss Arrow?”  The Administrator said. “I expect great things of you, young one.”

“I won’t let you down, sir!”

Whumptober Prompt #15- Scars

Yo- here’s another ColdFlash.  Author’s notes are getting kinda annoying.  Enjoy

...

The one thing Barry would never have called himself a year ago was lucky.  Losing his mother at such a young age, his father’s wrongful imprisonment right after, child psychologist after child psychologist telling him the yellow lightning was a manifestation of some bullshit or another, always denying the truth that he saw that night, the bullies, the consistent inability to be punctual to anything, the lightning strike, his powers… it was a long list on why Barry considered himself very unlucky.

But tonight?  Tonight, Barry was the luckiest man in the world.

Leonard Snart, Captain Cold himself, was lying asleep beside him, still just as in love with him as Barry was in love with him.  The Legend of Tomorrow had returned to Central City, after the Oculus explosion apparently didn’t kill him but simply sent him through time.  Once he’d regained the ability to travel back to Present Central City, he’d returned to Barry.  Thankfully, Barry hadn’t sold their apartment yet, as everyone else had been trying to convince him to do.  Granted, they thought Len had died so it had made sense but he hadn’t been ready to let go yet.  Barry had come home with groceries and another realtor business card to throw in the trash and Len had simply been waiting at the kitchen table with a cup of hot chocolate, the newspaper, and piping hot dinner.

Barry had dropped the groceries, unable to try and catch them, even with his super speed.  Len had cocked an eyebrow, and simply laughed.  “Didn’t think you’d be so clumsy, Scarlet.”

Hours later, once Len had proved that he was alive, and his Len, after dinner and a dance and a kiss that quickly led them to the bedroom, they laid in bed together but Barry had been unable to sleep.  Len had fallen asleep a little while ago, spent and exhausted.  Barry had been very demanding after losing Len for six months, and now that he had him back, he couldn’t stop staring at his partner.  Len’s face hadn’t changed, the same piercing blue eyes that made Barry’s knees weak, the same jawline now peppered in hickeys, the same mouth that worshiped Barry, infinitely pouring love from those wonderful lips, and yet… Barry couldn’t help but notice small differences.

There was a scar on Len’s right arm, from the Oculus no doubt.  It ran from about half his forearm all the way to his middle knuckle.  It wasn’t straight, like a knife, but almost a lichtenberg figure like the one he got from the lightning strike.  It branched out from the main scar, the littler scars fading easily into the skin.

There was another new one just behind Len’s ear, this one much smaller.  It seemed more like what had once been a small nick, or maybe a blow to the head, and Barry could really only see it because Len wore his hair so short.

Len’s left hand had a new scar as well, but this one obviously different from the others.  Maybe he was crazy, maybe he was reading too much into it, but Barry was ninety percent sure Len had done this one himself.  Len’s hand was unharmed, the same calluses, the same chips in his fingernails, the same scars on his hands from his father, but this one was new.  This one was a small slash across his wrist, right above where handcuffs would fit him.  It looked like a razor had torn up Len’s skin in one short but deep cut.  It looked too small and precise to be anything but razor, and a razor wasn’t a normal method of torture.  So, Len had to have done it himself.  He wasn’t sure why, but that question could wait.  They had all the time in the world now.  Len had promised to stay as long as he could.  Barry knew he would go back to the Legends eventually, Len missed Mick, and the thrill of working through time, but for right now, Len was home.

It was Len’s back though, where Barry noticed the biggest change.  Len was sleeping on his back, so Barry had an open view.  Len’s scars from childhood, the beatings, his father’s belt, those were all intact, but there was one new one.  It wasn’t quite a burn scar, but it was at the same time.  He knew it didn’t come from Mick, Len had a few burn scars from when Mick couldn’t protect Len from himself, and this wasn’t like that.  It was more like a sunburn on a regular scar.  Like light itself burned into Len’s skin.

“Scarlet, you’re supposed to be sleeping.”  Len’s tired voice brought him to reality.  “Not staring at me like a stalker.

Barry blushed.  “I couldn’t help it.”

Len turned over and his sleep-lidded eyes stared up at him curiously.  “And what, pray tell, couldn’t you help?”

“I thought I would never see you again.”  Barry whispered.  “Forgive me for making sure I get a good look this time.”

Len’s eyes softened.

“Besides, you’ve changed.”  Barry leaned over and kissed the new scar on Len’s ear.

“Not that much.”  Len murmured, matching Barry’s soft tone.  “Not really.”

Barry made his way down Len’s spine, kissing the jagged edges of the newest scar.

A small gasp escaped Len’s lips.  Len had told him once that he didn’t like taking off his long-sleeve shirts, even in summer, because of his scars.  Tattoos could work their magic, but Len was proud of his scars.  They showed he survived.  But often he found lovers who were uncomfortable where his obvious childhood scars lay.  But Barry, with plenty of scars of his own, loved each and every scar.  He hated the man who put them there, but he admired how Len lived with them.  On a ship where scars could be healed within moments, where losing a limb was reversible, Len had made sure to keep his scars.  Len never shied away from his past, no matter how much he hated it.  He never ran from his problems like Barry did.

So Barry made sure to show Len just how much he loved Len, every part of him.  He kissed his way down Len’s spine, taking care to watch Len’s reaction. Len’s face held a touch of uncertainty he hadn’t seen since they first started dating, but also a kind of serenity.  Once he finished Len’s spine, he gently grabbed Len’s left arm, bringing himself over Len to try and not pull the hand behind him, pressing his lips against the line of raised skin, harder than before.  Len exhaled sharply, his breath catching at Barry’s touch.

“Your handiwork?”  Barry whispered.

“Long story, but yes.”  Len admitted softly.

Barry kissed it again.  “You wanna tell me?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Scarlet.”

Barry took that for what it was, a promise to talk later.  So Barry moved to Len’s right side.  He kissed the lichtenberg figure, brushing his lips over each branch.

“Now we match.” Barry smirked, finishing up Len’s hand.

Len cocked an eyebrow, his body relaxed but his mind as sharp as ever.

“My lightning strike.”  Barry said.  “May not have been lightning, but it bears the same scar.”

Len conceded.  “Felt like it.  From what you told me of that night.”

Barry frowned.

“It was like getting hit by one of your punches but all over and you had your lightning going.”  Len explained.  “It was an all-encompassing eternity yet it must’ve only been a few seconds.  But the people who found me, the ones who helped me get back to the Legends, they said I didn’t stop shaking for a week.”

Barry nuzzled Len’s neck.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  Len murmured into Barry’s hair, twisting himself around to wrap around Barry as the big spoon.  “I can see a bright side to it. Brought me back, let me come home to you, helps me understand you.”

Barry couldn’t help the laugh.

“What?!?”

“You, trying to look on the bright side.”  Barry said, still laughing. “And you say you haven’t changed, you big liar.”

Len snickered with him.  “Alright, so I’ve changed a little.”

The laugh went quiet as Len kissed Barry’s hair.

“I don’t care, you know.”  Barry said, stifling a yawn.  “Doesn’t matter how you come back to me.  You can come back with no hands, or in a wheelchair, or, hell, with more scars than Mick.  It doesn’t matter.  Just as long as you come back to me.”

Barry laid his head on the pillow between Len’s shoulder and neck so he missed Len’s grateful smile.

“I promise, Scarlet, I’m always trying to come back to you.”  Len’s arms wrapped around Barry, tight enough to feel comforting not trapped.  “Every time I leave, always remember I’m trying to come back to you.”

Barry hummed contentedly.  “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”  Len whispered.  “My hero.”

...

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052184