Whump-tober Day 1 - Shaky Hands

Whump-tober Day 1 - Shaky Hands

“you’re doing ok, uunffff, really, it’s gonna be fine”

The reply was something between a whimper and a laugh

“I should be telling you that.”

The tech pulled the last piece of shrapnel out of the medic’s chest and dropped the shred of metal on the dirt, their shaking hands nearly dropping the forceps in the process.

“Please don’t drop those! They’re barely clean as it is and you’ll need them for sutures. There’s a kit in the bag.” 

The medic lifted a shaky blood stained hand and feebly pointed towards the first aid backpack that lay next to a crew member who then pushed it towards the tech.

The backpack had been tossed aside when the tech skidded to a stop and dropped to their knees when the medic went down. The tech ripped the backpack off the medic’s back so they could push the the medic onto their back. The blast had thrown the medic face first into the dirt but not before embedding no less that 15 jagged fragments of hot metal into the medic’s chest. Usually kept out of the line of fire, the medic had forgone the kevlar vest and everyone was regretting it as they watched the tech play a high stakes game of Operation and pick shrapnel out of the medic’s pale sweaty chest. While several hands pressed down on the medic’s chest to stem the bleeding, it was quickly decided that if the tech’s hands were steady enough to defuse a bomb, they could pull shrapnel out of their medic’s body.

“No not-next to it-yes that one.” The tech pulled a box of curved needles and packets of suture thread out of a side pocket and ripped open a packet. Their hands were quivering so severely that they could barely thread the needle. “Come on, c’mon, you stupid sonofa- got it.” The relief of threading the needle momentarily soothed them as pressed their shaking hands into their thighs and dropped their chin towards their chest.

“I can’t do this, pulling out shit is one thing, but stitching you up…I clip wires, dismantle electronics-”

“Exactly, the medic sighed, you keep us alive, and that’s literally what you’re doing now. I trust you.” The medic laid their trembling hand over the medic’s and weakly squeezed it.

“You can do this. I need you to do this.”

@99point9percentwhump @whumptober2019

Whumptober Prompt #2 and #6- Explosion and Dragged Away

@winedark-whump you wanted to know who Sam was, and how he died.  Your wish is granted.

A high pitched ringing was going back in forth from one side of his head to the other. He blinked slowly, the darkness mixing in with colors, until he could finally distinguish the sky from the buildings under it. The ringing shifted, assaulting both ears now that he could focus better. He tried to pull himself up, they needed to go… somewhere. He wasn’t sure exactly where but he knew it wasn’t here. Here had fallen debris all around, lots of little fires, tons of smoke, and was that blood? Not a good place to be. He tried to lift himself by his arms but fell to his left side. He looked down and saw dirt. He frowned. Dirt? Shouldn’t there be something there that’s not dirt? His eyes slowly traveled upwards and saw what was left of his left arm. Memory hit him like a freight train.

Ever since Arrow had lost her Hero, she’d become almost as fanatic as the rest of them. Phoenix and Mirror Mirror had just been causing a little mayhem, nothing too big, just a casual museum heist. They’d hoped not to run into any Heroes but together, they were unstoppable so it didn’t really matter. It seemed, however, that someone was dumb enough to try.

“Fucking lousy criminals.” Arrow sneered, Michael catching her first arrow from up in the rafters of the museum. He knew that was merely a warning shot, Arrow always hit her targets. “Always have to ruin everyone else’s day. This artwork is supposed to inspire love for humanity, for life. And taking it just leave those without. How cruel.”

Michael clenched his fist, her arrow exploding in his hand. He sneered right back at her, “Lousy Heroes. Always ruining our day.”

Arrow rolled her eyes and notched another arrow, the tip glinting in the light. Michael snarled, recognizing one of her cracked diamond arrows. Those were a bitch to get out, as if you weren’t careful, the diamond would shatter in you, forcing you to go to a hospital or risk having diamonds enter your bloodstream.

Michael grabbed a button out of his pocket, he always kept spares in case he needed a weapon, or more importantly, if one popped off his corset. He charged up, and threw it upwards. He wasn’t Arrow, with the gift of impossible accuracy, but he was a pretty good shot. She dived as the button exploded, using the rafters as a gymnastics bar, swinging herself down to their level.

He motioned for Sam to take the props and leave the ringers behind, while he charged straight at Arrow. He had to admit, some of the best parts of a classic museum heist is leaving the fake artwork behind so cops have no idea what they’ve stolen.

She jumped back at his straightforward attack, knowing he only needed one slip up to get all five fingers around her. He wouldn’t kill the little shit, but singeing her a little wouldn’t be too bad.

Suddenly, there was a rope around his neck.

“We’re taking this outside so you don’t break shit!” Arrow shouted, throwing him through a window.

His back hit the glass first, and he felt it crack underneath his weight. The shards embedded themselves in his back and legs as the force propelled him through the now shattered window. Somehow, he landed on his right foot before crumpling to the ground. Pain flirted with his body but never truly stayed in one place too long so he knew nothing was broken. Trying to ignore the bruises forming all over him, he pulled himself up, knowing in the back of his head it had been her ability to accurately throw him that had saved him from permanent damage.

A sharp cry brought his attention back to the shattered window. Sam had Arrow pinned to the edge, nearly succeeding in throwing her off. She threw a punch Sam easily deflected, tried to kick Sam’s feet out from under him which he easily blocked, then grabbed an arrow from her quiver and sprayed him with a foamy substance, which caused him to pull back and which sent herself over the edge. She grabbed onto one of the banners advertising the very painting Michael was stealing, flipping and landing without any injury to her perfect high-heels.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to break shit, you seemed to have no problem throwing me out a window.” Michael said, grabbing a couple pieces of broken glass around him. He charged them up slowly, knowing glass was a very dangerous weapon for him, as too much power would cause the glass to break and simply latch onto the nearest surface.

“Better to replace a window than mourn a priceless Monet.” Arrow fired back, notching another arrow.

“It’s Mo-ney, you idiot.” Michael jeered as it were a schoolyard tiff. “He was French, the T is silent.”

“Whatever!” She shouted back, clearly embarrassed. She fired her first arrow, easily and quickly notching another, and Michael threw his first piece. They hit each other straight on, resulting in a small explosion. Arrow narrowed her eyes at him, and smirked.

Then Sam hit her from behind with what was left of a nearby lamppost.

Arrow collapsed to the ground, seemingly unconscious. Michael stared.

Sam jogged over to him, and kissed him lightly. “Hey, babe.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow.

“Hmm? Oh that was easy. Once I copied her, I figured out her weakness. Hyperfocus. Don’t know if she’s ADHD but she can’t focus on the two of us at once without putting one of us on the backburner of her mind.”

“You’re the best, babe.” Michael smiled. “How’d I end up with such an amazing partner like you?”

“You’re a thief.” Sam smirked. “You stole my heart.”

“Would you still love me if I never gave it back?” Michael teased, the familiar words rolling off his tongue like raindrops off a leaf.

“I will always love you.” Sam whispered.

Michael gently kissed his fiancé. “I lo-”

Before he could finish, an arrow shaped like a boxing glove hit him in the mouth. A second with a net attached to it hit Sam, slamming him into a nearby wall. Sam’s head lolled haphazardly, blood trickling down a cut on his face.

“Sam!”

A punch to the face sent him reeling. A punch to the stomach caused him to double over. Arrow then brought her clasped fists on Michael’s neck, sending him to the ground with a grunt. A sharp stiletto dug itself into his left wrist, hitting the ligaments in between his hand and arm. Instinctively, he had let go of the piece of glass he was holding but found himself unable to stop the charge, as all five fingers were being forced upon the ground with the toe of her boot.

“You gotta let me up.” Michael gasped through the pain. “I can’t turn my power off.”

“Impossible.” Arrow snapped. “I’ve severed your median nerve and your transverse carpal ligament. There’s no way you can be using your gift. Even you’re human.”

The ground beneath the glass began to shift into a more fuchsia type color.

“Seriously!” Michael implored, panic starting to seep into his voice. “I don’t know how but I can’t turn it off! You gotta let me up!”

Arrow simply notched another arrow, this one tipped with what looked like a stunner.

“Liar.”

“Please!” Michael begged. The concrete beneath him began to crack, fuchsia energy building up underneath the surface.

“No!” Arrow screamed, and for a second, they locked eyes, and all Michael saw was a frightened child behind her mask. “All you criminals do is lie, cheat, and steal to get what you want. You can never trust a criminal. They’re incapable of trying to do anything good! Their hearts are black, their minds are corrupted, and their gifts are evil incarnate! Only those who use their gifts for the betterment of all humanity can truly have a heart!”

Unable to fight the growing power in his palm, Michael forced out a small breath. Small fissures raced down his hand, across his whole arm, bleeding raw energy. Arrow gasped at the sight, and looked at him, fear evident on her face. Helpless against what was about to happen, he simply gathered what was left of his strength. He had to release the energy before it got worse, and threatened Sam. Above all, if he got captured, if he got killed for killing a Hero, it didn’t matter. No matter what, he had to save Sam.

So, he simply… let go.

It seemed his left arm just couldn’t contain the power.

Ears still ringing, fires still burning, smoke still choking the breath out of his lungs, he forced himself to stand. He had to find Sam. They had to get out of there. He didn’t see Arrow but that doesn’t necessarily mean she was dead or gone. Heroes had a nasty habit of appearing out of nowhere when you least expect them. Horrifically off balance without his left arm, he turned to try and get a glimpse of the wall Sam had been thrown into.

He stumbled around for what seemed like an eternity, coughing up who knows what, nearly falling every two steps, until he finally found a collapsed wall with a familiar glove sticking out of it.

“Sam!” Michael shouted, and collapsed near his fiancé. Sam’s eyes were closed, with blood trickling out of his mouth, head leaning to his left side. “Sam, come on, wake up, we gotta get outta here.”

Sam didn’t stir.

You’re gonna make me do it, huh?” Michael gasped, dread settling into his stomach. “Fine but you don’t get to yell at me when we get home.”

Still nothing.

“Black is the color of my true love’s hair,” Michael crooned. He wasn’t the best singer but Sam always loved it. Michael had never done it in public. It was their little secret. “His face so soft and wondrous fair, the purest eyes, and the gentlest hands, I love the ground whereon he stands, I love the ground… C’mon Sam, wake up! Please wake up!”

He shook Sam by the shoulder, and Sam’s head rolled limply to the side.

Michael screamed.

The very same lamppost that he’d used to knock out Arrow was now embedded in his skull. Blood poured from the wound, slowly, as if the motion itself had no life left.

“Sam! Please, no, Sam, please don’t be dead, please, don’t be dead.” Michael screamed. “You can’t leave me here alone. Please, I love you, Sam, I love you! I love you more than life itself! Please. You can’t be gone, you just can’t!”

“Phoenix, c’mon, you gotta get out of here.” A new voice said, tugging on his jacket. This one sounded young, and very, very scared. “You gotta move! They’re going to arrest you!”

He ignored her.

“Please, Phoenix, you’ve got to move! This is my fault, not yours. You can’t stay here!”

He whipped around, his left arm dead weight. There stood Arrow, covered in blood, bruises but with an unblemished face. She looked shell-shocked, as if unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“Don’t die with him. Please.”

The “please” shattered what was left of his heart. A scream escaped his lips without conscious thought, a sound he never knew he could make, and he flung the broken-hearted shell of what used to be Michael Winters upon the chest of his dead love.

“No, I’m not letting you take the fall for this. This was my doing, not yours. We’re leaving now!”

With a strength Michael didn’t know was possible, Arrow lifted him under the arms and heaved. Michael, unexpectedly limp in her arms at first, lurched away from Sam.

“No! Don’t take me from him, please, he needs me, no, no!”

“I’m sorry!” Arrow shouted, but continued to haul him away.

Little fuchsia sparks flew past his fingers and out of his stump. “Stop! Let me go! Sam, I won’t leave you! I won’t leave you, Sam, I promise! Let me go!”

He fought against her hold but she had leverage against him so all he could do was skid his feet along the road and try to elbow her as she dragged him away. He got in one good shot to her ribs, eliciting a hard cry. He went to aim for that same spot.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, then he felt a strong electrostatic charge and finally succumbed back down into the never-ending darkness.

It wasn’t too bad once my fever broke. I slept through most of the illness, I just remember that waterfall even though I was nowhere near one. I’ve turned it into fun bits of whump idea after idea.

I once hallucinated when I had a fever of 104! I was lying in bed, burning up, and knew it was a school day. So I got out of bed and immediately collapsed to the ground. Thankfully my door was open and roommates were able to check on me. They couldn’t lift me into bed, but made sure I wasn’t dead and got me some water. Except- that’s not what I remember. I remember being stuck under a cold waterfall, against a rocky surface. When I woke up a few hours later, I could stand and got back in bed

Ooo, that sounds really scary!

Whumptober Prompt #13- Adrenaline and #17- “Stay With Me”

Heeeey.  I’ll make this short, no one’s really reading anyways. This is ColdFlash.  The Adrenaline is interpreted rather loosely.

Chest compressions.  Breath.  Breath.  Chest compressions.  Gasp like there’s no air.  Breath.  Breath.  Listen to his heart.  Don’t hear anything.  Chest compressions.  Don’t panic, don’t paNIC, DON’T PANIC.  Breath.  Breath.  Nothing.  Start chest compressions again.

“Stay with me, Barry, stay with me.”  Mutter under breath.  Barely notice the water vapor.  Jacket is still sticking to skin.  Hope that the cold won’t kill him faster.

Don’t look at his slack, angelic face.  Rip off mask just in case it’s impeding his breathing.  Check his airway again.  Don’t think about doing CPR on his lifeless body.  Continue doing chest compressions.  Breath.  Breath.  Check his pulse.  Check again.

Panic.

“No, no, no, please, Barry, stay with me.  Don’t go, don’t go, stay with me, please.”

Feel lost.  Feel scared.  Feel angry.

“You bastard!  How dare you?  Come back, you bastard!  Come back!”

Clench your hand into a fist.  Pound on his chest.  His body jerks.  A small trickle of water comes out of his mouth.  Grasp onto the smallest hope.  Do it again.  And again.

… 

With the greatest sound Len had ever heard in his life, Barry coughed, throwing up water and bile as his airways cleared.  Len turned Barry onto his side, and the coughing became easier.  When he stopped throwing up, and his breathing seemed to come naturally, Len hooked his arms around Barry’s knees and back, hauling him into Len’s arms.  He really wished he could take Barry to Star Labs where his friends could help him, but there was no way he could do that.  Len would have to leave his bike behind, he couldn’t hold onto an unconscious Barry and drive at the same time, but thankfully, he had a safehouse a couple of blocks away so he planned out a route in his head.  They were in a neighborhood where nobody ever looked out their windows, so he could just run with an unmasked Flash in his arms and no one would see anything, or say anything if they did.

In exactly fifteen point seven minutes, Len fumbled for his keys in his back pocket, trying to balance an unconscious Flash and open his locked door at the same time.  It took him fourteen point three seconds, an increase from his usual ten point nine, to get the door open and manhandle Barry inside.  He set Barry down on the nearby couch, glad he had had the foresight to put the couch close to the door, though he had done it in case he needed a quick shield or barricade.  He grabbed the throw pillows Lisa had given him as gag gifts, the ones with the Flash and Captain Cold personas on each, and tried to set Barry up so he was comfortable but still kept his airways clear and his chest without too much pressure on it.  He wasn’t a doctor by any means, but he’d read enough from the medical textbooks the prison libraries had available to know he needed to keep the stress off of Barry’s chest.  Soon as he was satisfied, he wrapped Barry in as many blankets as he could find.

Soon after, Barry’s wonderful, beautiful green eyes fluttered open.  Len’s entire body sagged in relief.  Barry’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, his mouth moving stiltedly.

“Barry?”  Len asked, trying to be gentle.

“-one.”  Barry struggled to get out, coughing again.

“One?  One what?”

Barry tried to clear his throat.  “Phone.”

Len pat down his jacket, and pulled a waterlogged phone out of his pocket.  He grimaced.  He hadn’t taken anything out of his pockets before jumping into the water after Barry.

“I have others.”  Len stated, setting the now useless phone on the coffee table.

He bolted to the bedroom and easily got into his safe, the one where he kept his important documents for the apartment like ownership papers and fake identities in case he needed to run, and pulled out the first burner phone he saw.  When he returned, he saw Barry trying to reach for the dead phone.

“Use this one, this one works.”  Len pressed the phone into Barry’s hands.

Barry’s hands were shaking as he tried to type a number into the text message function.  He kept slipping so Len gently took it from him, listening ardently.  Barry rattled off a number, a local one, so it was either Cisco or his father.

“What do you want to say?”  Len asked quietly.

“Cisco- it’s Bar.  Am safe.  Will come back ASAIC.”  Barry panted, sounding exhausted.  “Am safe, aren’t I?”

Len chuckled dryly.  “Yes because I’ve gone to all of this trouble to pull you out of a river, given you CPR, and dragged your dumb Hero ass all the way to one of my apartments to kill you.  It’s all a part of my master plan.”

Barry’s mouth quirked into a small smile.  Len would deny ever feeling a flutter of butterflies in his stomach like a schoolgirl at seeing that smile.

“Typed and sent.”  Len said, showing Barry the phone.

Barry nodded and closed his eyes again.

Len sighed, feeling just a tad guilty but shook Barry anyway.  “Nope.  You can’t rest just yet.  You gotta help me get you out of this suit.  You’re freezing.”

Barry didn’t open his eyes, he merely hit a button on the chest plate of his suit and it became more relaxed than Len’d ever seen it.

“Come on, you can’t help me?”  Len teased, feeling a little better about getting back into their usual rhythm.  “You’re gonna make me strip you alone?”

Barry didn’t answer him.

Len checked his pulse and breathing, and found them both strong.  It seemed Barry’s metahuman healing factor was putting him back together at record speed.  Len double checked them again, just in case.

Then he soldiered on, manhandling Barry out of the Flash suit.  Barry must’ve been more than exhausted to let him do this alone because all he found underneath the Flash’s red not-leather, as Barry once insisted, was Barry’s smooth marble skin and toned muscles.  He didn’t even know that Barry had a six-pack, but to be honest, it made sense.  Flash was strong enough to take on guys like King Shark and Gorilla Grodd so having a six-pack and muscles that almost made Len drool didn’t seem too far-fetched.

When he got to the legs aspect of the suit, he hesitated.  Barry only wore his boxers underneath, and those certainly couldn’t stay but he did not want to do that alone.  But it seemed Barry was good and out, and wouldn’t be helping.  So Len tried to push his personal feelings for Barry, and definitely his attraction to Barry’s stunning runner’s physique, as deep in the back of his mind as he could and got to work.  He peeled the fabric away, first from the suit, then from the soaking wet cotton that was the only thing left protecting Barry’s modesty.  As soon as he could, he threw the blankets back over Barry so the temptation to look would not have its day.  He hung the soaking wet Flash suit over his shower curtain, with Barry’s boxers right next to it.  Hopefully, they could dry a little that way.

A low moan caught his attention.  He returned to the couch to find that Barry was beginning to wake up a little.

“Come on, baby, wake up.”  Len whispered, shaking Barry’s shoulder a little.

“Baby?”  Barry blinked his eyes open, much more coherent that the last time.

“What?  No, I called you Barry.”  Len said, cursing his stupid mouth for acting without his permission.  “You must still have water in your ears.”

“Water?”  Thankfully, Barry seemed to buy it.  “Wait, when did I get wet?  When-” Barry reached up to his face and recognized that he was no longer dressed.  “Where is my suit?!?”

“Relax, Scarlet,” Len smirked, enjoying that Barry was turning the color of his nickname, “It’s drying in my bathroom.  You were soaking wet, you needed to get out of those wet clothes.”

Barry nodded.  “That explains why I’m so cold.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”  Len asked.

Barry frowned.  “Jewelry store.  A new meta with some kind of either super strength or molecular density rearrangement… That’s it.”

“He got you pretty good.”  Len filled in.  “You took a bad hit to the head, and went flying over the bridge into the Mississippi.”

Barry stared at him.  “Then… how did I get here? With my suit in your bathroom?  Did you pull me out?”

Len distinctly ignored the memory of panicking in the murky water, desperately searching for the speedster.

“Eh, you more washed up on shore.” Len lied. “I couldn’t have anyone find you and know your secret.  How else would I still be able to continue working without you constantly throwing me in jail?”

Barry stared at him, his mouth twitching until he smiled.

“You saved my life.”

“I merely did what was necessary for me to do what I want to do.”  Len said.

“Then why did you give me CPR?”  Barry asked.  “I can feel it, you know.  I can feel my ribs knitting themselves back together and my lungs aching from the water.  You said I took a bad hit to the head.  Not the chest.”

“You probably broke your ribs when you hit the water.”  Len tried.

Barry’s smug smile was spreading across his face.  “No I didn’t. You saved me.”

“If you start with that ‘there’s good in you’ shit again, I’m kicking you out.”  Len snarled, his hackles rising.

Barry put up his hands in surrender.  “Wouldn’t want that.  You got a phone I can borrow? I need to tell the team I’m okay.”

“I already sent them a text.”  Len grumbled.

Barry’s smug smile got worse.

“Hey, that was your fault.”  Len accused.  “You were moving around trying to get a phone, I had to send it because you couldn’t.”

“I was?”  Barry asked.

Len nodded.

“I don’t remember any of that.”  The smug smile vanished, replaced by a worried frown.

“You took a bad hit to the head and fell off a bridge.”  Len said, gentler.  “Cut yourself some slack.”

Barry nodded back, then looked Len up and down.  “Are you okay?”

“Ask yourself that.”  Len said.  “You’re the one who fell off a bridge.”

“You seem cold.”  Barry started.

“Why thank you, and me without my parka.”  Len shot back.

“No seriously, you look cold.”  Barry tried again.

“The cold never bothered me anyway, Scarlet.”  Len smirked.

“Then why are your hands shaking?”  Barry asked bluntly, ignoring the terrible line.

That caught Len off guard.  He looked down and, shit, Barry was right. He shoved his hands and found his jacket still soaked through.

“Let me get out of these wet clothes and I’m sure they’ll freeze.”  Len said, standing.

Barry groaned.  “That was terrible!”

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

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!”