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To Love a Rogue	By : NekoMalik Category: DC Verse Comics > The Flash Views: 1525 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Flash, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Len had returned to Hartley’s apartment a number of times since his admission to the hospital. The first time he took Mick with him; ironically, the pyromaniac was the only other Rogue who he felt he could really trust, despite their obvious differences and frequent spats. It turned out that the man was fairly handy with a hammer and nails too, which came in handy when they decided to fix up the front door.

Between the two of them, they managed to clear most of the mess away, disposing of the broken furniture and destroyed CD collection. By the end of the first visit, the kitchen and living room were, while not spotless, at least in less of a shambles. The next time he visited, Len went alone, not wishing for any of the other Rogues to witness the state of the bedroom, more for Hartley’s sake than anything else. Cleaning up the blood and torn, soiled sheets was possibly the hardest thing Cold had ever had to do; it made him sick to his stomach to recall how the redhead had been when he’d stumbled across him, tied to the bed, beaten and bloody and abused. He still wasn’t officially allowed in to see the younger man, the hospital still treating it as a rape case, though at least that meant his attacker wouldn’t be able to get access to him either. Hospital security was pretty good, after all, and Len knew Fury wasn’t stupid enough to get himself implicated.

Two more visits and the apartment was suitably clean. Most of Piper’s possessions had, unfortunately, been destroyed in the attack and had to be disposed of. Sitting on the end of the couch, staring at the empty spot where a television had once stood, Len cracked open his third beer of the evening with a sigh. He’d looked the whole apartment over, top to bottom, and the cameras he’d found the previous week had been removed. The brunette wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but at least he knew he wasn’t being watched any more, and for that he was glad.

Sitting in the living room of one of his Rogues, drinking beer alone in the dark while the owner of the apartment was in the hospital, was possibly one of the stranger things Captain Cold had done. Not that anyone else had to know what he was up to, of course. He’d been able to sneak in to see Hartley on just one occasion, over a week ago, and it was driving the older man up the wall knowing there was no way to check to see if the little redhead was alright or not. He was getting sporadic updates from Mick, who had been calling that nurse from the hospital almost constantly, but it wasn’t enough for Len. He needed to see for himself that Piper was alright, that he wasn’t too badly scarred mentally by the ordeal.

Guilt still coursed through the captain, guilt that the injuries Hartley had suffered were as a result of his own stubborn stupidity, and that there was no way he would ever be able to make up for what he’d done.

When the phone in his pocket buzzed, Len almost jumped out of his skin, swearing as his half-empty can of beer tumbled from his hands to spill out over the carpet. Grabbing his drink, cursing at the loss and the extra work he’d made for himself, Cold finally dug the device out from under him, answering it with a harshly barked ‘what?’

“Piper’s gone! They went to his room and he’s gone, Len!” Mick babbled down the phone, his tone high and panicked, unusual for the large pyro.

“The fuck d’you mean he’s ‘gone’? How can he be gone?” The brunette was on his feet in an instant, grabbing his gun from where he’d left it on the table and moving over to the mirror, hoping Sam hadn’t left their hideout yet.

“They went to check on him, and he wasn’t there anymore! Jenny thinks someone took him, your coat’s been ripped to bits and Piper wouldn’t do that...” Trailing off, Mick went silent for a moment, his breathing faster than normal and clearly audible down the crackling line.

“Fury...” Len hissed, squeezing the device in his hand hard enough to make the plastic creak under the pressure, threatening to break. “Tell Sam I need a pickup, I’m at the apartment.” Cold finally ground out, before hanging up and shoving the phone back into his pocket. Any hatred he had felt for the brute after Fury’s attack on Hartley paled in significance compared to what he was feeling at that point. The man was going to die. Painfully and slowly.

“He’s a dead man.” Len growled at Sam when the Mirror Master finally appeared, the captain storming past the other brunette as he made his way back to the ‘room’ he had claimed as his own, changing into his trademark boots and loose blue trousers, snapping the belt around his waist and sheathing his guns. Without the parka to hand, Len instead pulled on a black sleeveless top, sliding his visor into place and stepping back out into the Rogue’s living area.

“Who’s a dead man?” Sam finally asked, perched on the arm of a chair, staring levelly at the older man. Mick was pacing in the kitchen, muttering to himself as Roscoe sat at the table, seemingly unfazed, reading the evening paper.

“Fury. He dies. Tonight.” Not knowing where the man might have taken Piper had crossed Len’s mind more than once, though he didn’t allow that to deter him. If there was one thing Sam was good at, it was tracking down people who didn’t want to be found.

“Fury took Piper? I thought they were dating?” The Mirror Master asked quietly, the glaring hatred radiating off the older man going unnoticed by him, or at the very least, completely ignored. He seemed to think for a moment, before a light bulb flickered on in the younger Rogue’s head as he saw the full picture, the final piece having slotted into place with a barely audible ‘oh’.

“You find him, I kill him, Piper comes home.” Len stated, crossing his arms over his chest, scowl still firmly fixed on his face. Sam didn’t object to that, though the usage of the word ‘home’ didn’t go unnoticed by the Mirror Master, who stored that little bit of information away for further use. It could be his imagination, but it seemed to the younger brunette that the captain of cold wasn’t quite as cold as he made out.

Hours passed, Sam seated diligently in front of a large mirror, searching desperately for any sign of Fury. Len was getting more and more frustrated, not knowing what the man planned to do with Hartley now that he had him. Sunrise came and went, the Mirror Master still sitting, unblinking, staring into the abyss. Sitting on the couch, Cold watched him work, silently waiting for the smallest glimpse of Piper. As time passed, the alcohol began to take effect, dragging the brunette off to the land of slumber for mere minutes before he would shake himself awake, resuming his task of waiting for some sort of sign.

After what seemed like an eternity, finally they found him, the little redhead strung up from a light fitting, suspended by a set of thick ropes tied around his wrists. The smaller man made no move, his body purple and blue, the injuries from before having been re-opened from a beating that must have lasted for hours. Len was at the mirror in an instant, pushing at the glass, too impatient to wait for Sam to open the portal.

It was then that Fury appeared, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he pressed up against Hartley’s back, making eye contact with Len for a moment before forcing himself deep inside the redhead’s body, drawing screams of agony from the smaller man as he took what he wanted with no heed for the Piper’s wellbeing.

“Open the damn mirror!” Len practically screamed at Sam, shaking the smaller brunette, his eyes not moving away from the horrific sight in the large pane of glass.

“I can’t, it’s not working!” Sam replied, his voice panicked as he tried to get through to the two men, to stop the torture they were being forced to witness.

“Help me...” Hartley called out desperately, tears streaming down his face as he stared through at the two men. “Please, make it stop...” His eyes latched onto Len’s, and the brunette found he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. A strangled sob made its way from Piper’s throat, a sound that tore the captain’s heart to ribbons, before the knife none of them had known Fury held was dragged across the pale expanse, slicing through the redhead’s milky skin like butter. Had he been able to, Hartley would have cried out in agony as he felt the blade pierce his neck. Instead, a dripping, gurgling, wet sound was all he could muster, as his slight frame convulsed for a few seconds before growing still, eyes that were still locked immovably with Len’s slowly losing their light as the Pied Piper, youngest of Cold’s Rogues, died.

Len woke up with a shout, eyes moist behind a visor he had never been more relieved to own, his whole body tense as the images of a nightmare he’d give his life to forget flashed once more across his vision. The mirror stood before him, empty, devoid of the terror-inducing visions he’d been so sure were real. He’d watched Piper die, right in front of him, and had been completely unable to save him. His breathing still rough and ragged, the brunette slumped back in his seat, a cold sweat covering his body and tiny tremors running through tense muscles. He was beyond traumatised by the dream, staring down at his own hands as he tried to process the unfamiliar emotions that were racing through him.

“I found him...” Came a quiet voice from the floor across the room. Len almost didn’t hear the Mirror Master’s near silent, almost shocked outburst, though once the words registered he was up from his seat and at the mirror, echoes of his nightmare drifting in and out of his thoughts as he stood somewhat shakily over the smaller man.

It had been a complete fluke, finding the errant redhead. A flash of those vivid locks had caught Sam’s attention, the source so far from the mirror he’d had to squint to really see. The bruises that were still so angry stood out starkly on Hartley’s bare frame, though the bathroom mirror through which he’d located the Piper only allowed a limited view of his form.

“Get closer.” Len growled, eyes raking over his young comrade, taking in the crumpled form. Hartley had been left on the floor of what appeared to be a boarded-up apartment or hotel, still unconscious from what he could see, though from the distance he could make out precious little else.

"I can’t. This is the only mirror nearby.” Sam replied, opening the doorway and climbing through into the grimy bathroom, checking his surroundings for any sign of the Piper’s kidnapper. Len was quick to follow suit, making no noise as he dropped down onto the tiles, gun drawn and ready. The pair moved over to the door, which looked as though it was about to drop from its hinges. Peering into the gloomy space beyond, they could see no sign of Fury, no threat to either themselves or the prone form on the floor.

“Keep your eyes peeled.” Cold growled to his companion, eyeing up the door that he assumed would lead to a hallway, moving slowly over to the redhead as he assessed the situation. “Anything moves, kill it.” He added, crouching down to place warm fingers against Hartley’s cheek, feeling soft breaths curl across his palm as the younger Rogue’s eyelashes fluttered for just a moment, before growing still again.

The Piper had been chained to the single radiator in the room; an old-fashioned metal thing, one that wasn’t likely to move without some force. Fury hadn’t wanted the redhead to escape, that much was certain. From the complete lack of mirrors in the room, or any sort of reflective surface at all, he hadn’t wanted them to find him either.

A localised blast from his cold gun was enough to free Hartley from his restraints, much as it had been the last time, followed by another blast to create a makeshift mirror large enough to walk through. Gently lifting the slight form up, holding him tightly against his strong chest, Len tried desperately not to think about the warm wetness that he felt smear against his arm, or how fresh it would have to be if it was still wet. Swallowing down the impending nausea, he carried the little redhead over to his ice-mirror, waiting for Sam to open the doorway back home.

Len’s first thought was to get Hartley back to his room; his own personal sanctuary, somewhere he knew the smaller man could be kept safe. Half way there, though, the captain changed his mind, carrying his unconscious charge past a startled Roy to their shared bathroom and slamming the door shut behind them.

It took a good twenty minutes before Cold was finally happy that he’d managed to remove all trace of Fury’s foul touch from Piper’s body, even going so far as to wash the musician’s long hair as best he could. Hartley had whimpered pitifully when Len began the unpleasant task of cleaning away the internal evidence, and Len had held the redhead close, murmuring quiet nonsense until the task was complete and he could finally lock himself away with his charge.

“You’re home, now.” Len muttered quietly, more to himself than to Hartley, staring down at the sleeping form in his bed. The redhead looked so tiny against the large double, sheets tucked around his small frame, red hair still damp from earlier splayed across white pillows like crimson streaks on fresh snow. Sam had been sent back to monitor the apartment block they’d found Hartley in, and there was no sign of Fury as of yet. That meant Len had some time to himself, and he fully intended to utilise it by trying to make up for the stupid mistakes he’d made.

Len knew he could never make it up to Hartley, could never fix what had happened. He knew that ‘sorry’ would never be enough to undo all of the horrific things that had happened to the musician as a result of Cold’s appalling lack of judgement, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.
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To Love a Rogue