#its gilans fault

[thatonepersoninthebackoftheroom]

Will: Are you there, God? It's me, Willl. IT'S ME WIIIILLLLLL

Halt: Get another apprentice, they said. It'll be funny, they said.

*Halt won't let Will risk his life in a risky move against their enemy.*

Years later

Maddie: Are you there, God? It's me, Maddie. IT'S ME MADDDDIIEEEEE.

Will: So this is how Halt felt.

[forgedroyalseal]

His worst nightmare:

Chapter Five

“He’s telling the truth.” Will whispered. “But it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t have a choice.” Will lifted his mug to his lips with a shaking hand. Horace moved to take the mug from Will, who tried to turn away. His arm bumped into the table and he lost his grip. Weaken as he was, and without his other hand to catch it, the mug clattered onto the table. Thankfully the drop wasn’t high enough to do more than chip the lip of the mug, but the hot coffee spilled across the table.

“DAMN IT!” Will shouted, banging his hand on the table, sending a slash of coffee flying up.

“It’s ok Will, it happens to all of us.” Horace said gently. Gilan grabbed a hand towel from its hook on the cabinet behind him and started soaking up the coffee.

“I can’t do this!” Will shoves away from the table and retreats into his room, slamming the door as he goes.

Horace runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. He raises his eyes to Gilan’s. “This was the first proper meal I’ve convinced him to eat. I was so focused on the food, I didn’t even realize that the mug was too heavy.”

“It was just an accident Horace. It’s like you said, it happens to everyone.”

“Will has been dealing with some massive mood swings. Sometimes he’s so determined to get as close to normal as he can, then in an instant, he’s giving up, resigning himself to a short, meaningless life.”

“It must be hard for you to keep up.”

“It’s nothing compared to what he’s going through!” Horace snaps.

“I know,” Gilan raises his hands in surrender, “I just meant that watching someone we love suffer is awful. Often we wish we could trade places with them.”

“If there was a way, I would. And Will would be so much better at taking care of me than I am.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing amazing. My only note is that you need let your friends help.” Gilan bumps his shoulder into Horace’s and levels him with a meaningful stare.

“He doesn’t want people to ask what happened. He feels guilty about telling the truth, but he doesn’t have it in himself to lie to everyone we know for the rest of his life. If it was up to me, everyone in Redmont would know what Halt did to him.”

“I still don’t understand what happened. Why did Halt do this?”

Horace sighs. “From what I’ve gathered, a man with a grudge against Halt got the drop on them and then threatened Will’s life. Told Halt that if he wanted them to both leave with their lives, he’d have to beat Will, and before he let them go, he told Halt to cut off Will’s arm.”

“Christ. That’s- I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” The blood had drained from Gilan’s face and he held his head in his hands, fighting back waves of nausea.

“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for Halt and the rangers. Will should never have been put in this position, and Halt should have never done what he did.”

Gilan looked up at Horace, whose eyes were ablaze with anger. “Hey now, I don’t think that’s fair. Neither of us can know for sure what we’d do, but what I do know, is there is almost nothing that I wouldn’t do to save Will’s life. And I think you’d say the same.”

“Halt is supposed to be some phenomenal fighter and tactician, but he was ambushed and taken hostage like some commoner. Will trusted him and he failed him. End of story.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do. If I could rewrite history, Will would have never become a ranger. He’d never be put this position.”

“You’d rather him have a boring, meaningless life working in some field?”

“I’d rather him be safe.”

“Will would never have wanted that kind of life.” Gilan paused and took a deep, calming breath, then started again. “Look, what happened, what Will and Halt went through, is horrific. And it never should have happened. But you have no right to accuse Halt or me or any of the rangers for not caring about Will. Because I know for a fact that every ranger who has ever met Will would die for him, just like we would. The only person to blame is the man who forced Will and Halt into this situation.”

“This can’t keep happening to him.” Horace’s voice broke, all the fight evaporating from his body, leaving him empty and exhausted. “He cannot keep going through hell. Because what happens when he doesn’t come out the other side? How do we live without him?”

“I agree.” Gilan admits. “After this, no one is going to risk putting him in danger again. I’ll send word to Crowley and we’ll look into what-“

“Are you two serious right now?” Will’s voice cuts through the air and the two men at the table freeze. “I step out of the room for one minute and the two of you start talking about how you can control the rest of my life?”

“Will, we were just-“

“NO!” Will cuts Gilan off. “Do you really think that I don’t already know my life is over? That for however long I live, I’ll be nothing but a useless cripple? I know that! I know that I’ll have to turn in my oak leaf, that I’ll never get sent on another assignment. I don’t need the two of you butting into my life and acting like I’ve lost my mind as well as my arm!”

“Your life doesn’t have to be over Will. We’ll sort something out.” Horace stood and reach out to his friend, stepped out of reach.

“Back off! There is no “we”. It’s just me. I’m the one who lost his arm. I’m the one out of a job. I’m the one who will have to deal with everyone’s pitiful looks. Me. Not you.”

“I know. I just want to help.”

Will laughed bitterly. “You wanna help Horace? Finish what Halt started, and kill me.”

[areiacannaid]

Part 2

Read part 2 on AO3

In the end, Halt had taken the two boys back to his suite of rooms in Morgarath’s castle. He didn’t know where else to keep them. The older of the two had collapsed and lost consciousness before they had even made it out of the dungeon. So Halt had carried him, leaving the younger to trail behind. Once inside, he lay the older boy on his table and paused for a moment, assessing. 

Halt scowled at the mess Morgarath had made of the older boy. The only blessing was that it was neither irreparable or life-threatening. And, although the younger hadn’t been injured quite as badly, he was clearly just as malnourished from the weeks spent as Morgarath’s prisoner. They both needed tending if they were to survive and heal.

Halt clenched his fingers. Torture for the sake of information he could at least understand, but torture for its own sake he did not. It didn’t gain anybody anything. He was still looking the older boy over, debating where to start when he felt a gentle uncertain tugging at his trouser leg. The younger boy was staring up at him with those large, sad, brown eyes, his small hands gripping the fabric like some sort of lifeline. Halt wondered briefly why the child wasn’t terrified of him, then decided that it was probably because, to his young eyes, it had looked as if Halt had saved him from Morgarath.

“Will Gil be okay?” the words were soft with fear and concern.

“Gil?” Halt asked, finding himself both shocked and a little unsettled that he didn’t feel the slightest urge to pull away from the small grasping hands.

“My brother,” he said quietly. “He said so. Our names even rhyme, Will and Gil.”

It was then Halt recalled that the Battlemaster’s son’s name was Gilan. He, however, honed in on the first part of Will’s words instead.

“He’s not your brother.”

“Is so,” Will put in, his small face set in complete conviction. Then, as if expecting retaliation for his outburst, he flinched and cringed backward behind Halt’s leg.

“But he wasn’t always,” Halt allowed quietly, having no interest in punishing, or getting into an argument with, a traumatized child over Gilan’s honesty or why it didn’t even matter. Brothers would betray you as easily as anyone else… and just as brutally.

Will nodded, daring to poke his head out again from behind Halt’s legs. He seemed satisfied with that explanation, proving Halt’s initial theory correct. The Battlemaster’s son had lied as he had thought.

“You didn’t have the same father,” Halt pressed.

Will nodded. “My father was a hero. He fought the Wargals in Hawkenin Heather.” He said in a tiny voice, tears visibly filling his eyes as his lips quivered.

“Hackham Heath?” Halt corrected.

Will nodded. “The soldiers told mum he was hurt so bad he…” he stumbled over the words, “that he…” the small child couldn’t finish, his eyes filling with tears.

Halt grimly accepted this information, pursing his lips in thought. It was his plan that had decimated the King's army at Hackham Heath. Which would mean that it was, in a way, his fault that Will’s father had lost his life that day. In fact, for all he knew, the responsibility could even be more direct. Halt had killed so many during that brutal battle, one face blurring into another. Eventually, he just shrugged. There was nothing to be done about that information.

“I’m… sorry,” he told the child eventually because he didn’t know what else to say and that was what people seemed to always do in these sorts of situations.

Will looked up at him, nodding his small head before leaning it against the trouser leg he still gripped.

When Halt had finished looking the Battlemaster’s son over, he turned back to the younger boy.

“It will take time, but Gilan will heal.”

“You’ll make him better?”

Halt inclined his head. 

“I’ll call the healer to look him, and you, over,” he decided finally, not liking the idea of tending the boys by himself.

Will’s large eyes filled again with tears. “I just don’t want him to leave like mum and da did,” he said brokenly. “Mum and da got hurt so bad they had to leave forever.”

“He won’t leave,” Halt said as he sent a servant for the court physician.

The physician, a man named Malcolm, had been captured as a prisoner of war during one of the skirmishes and, as soon as his skills as a healer had been made known, he’d been immediately conscripted, forced to serve Morgarath. Halt, for his part, had never known another physician who could rival his skill, so had no doubt the two children would be in good hands.

While the healer tended the two boys, Halt found himself at a bit of a loss. Having not been prepared for this, he ended up making a soft bed from blankets on the floor of his sitting room and placed Gilan on them when the healer had gone, leaving Halt with a detailed list for the two boys’ care. Will had immediately gone to his brother’s side without so much as a word and curled up next to him, thus saving Halt the trouble of making another bed. He stepped back then, gaze still fixed on the two boys.

It wasn’t until that moment that he realized the magnitude of the responsibility he had just taken on. How did one even care for apprentices? Raise them to be skilled, and useful, assassins? How would he go about training them? He pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand. He'd need to develop a plan.

Mentally, he began to make a list. He'd need to make sure they were clothed and fed and had everything they needed to heal well. He frowned as he thought of the pointlessness of what Morgarath had done. In his mind, it was the equivalent of a knight deliberately injuring his prized horse. The frown grew as he realized the description fit more than he'd intended. He'd seen Morgarath mistreat his mount before. The man, for all his cunning, often let raw emotion get in the way of practicality.

~x~X~x~

Gilan finally woke the next morning as Halt began to change his bandages. His young body tensed like some wounded feral animal until his hollow gaze found Will safe beside him, gripping his hand. Slowly, gently, Gilan’s fingers curled to grip him back.

They’d had no one for support but each other and already in a few short weeks they seemed to have formed a bond stronger than Halt had ever formed in years with his own brother. He didn’t understand it. But then he shrugged. It wasn’t bound to last—nothing like that ever did. Since they were both awake and, as the silence between them began to grow into something stifling, Halt decided there would be no better time to set the two straight.

“Here is how things are going to be from now on. You are both to be my apprentices. As soon as you are both well, you will be dedicating the majority of your time to training. You will be living and studying with me until you are trained enough to live on your own. I expect you to follow my every order and direction without complaint and I expect nothing short of your best.”

And because all his life experience had taught him that fear was the only reliable method for instilling respect or obedience, he added, “If you do not wish to be my apprentices, or if you ever try to run, I will just give you back to Morgarath.” Will cringed violently at that, gripping tighter to Gilan’s hand. But Halt wasn't finished. “And if either of you ever disobey or cross me, I won't hesitate to beat you bloody, understand?”

Will shrank back, nodding fearfully. But Gilan made no reply or movement. He just stared listlessly, straight ahead at nothing, his expression blank. Halt frowned, reaching a careful hand to touch the boy's cheek for fever. He didn’t so much as flinch. There was no fever. Perhaps it was merely pain then or the blows to the head.

“I need you to nod if you understand me,” Halt pressed and eventually received the barest inclination of the boy’s head in response.

“Good,” Halt said. dipping his hand in the salve once more and carefully applying them to the boy’s injuries before bandaging them up again. He was mindful not to cause any more pain—there would be no point in that.

“Your first instructions are to rest. I expect you both to stay in bed until I deem you well enough to get up.” Again, he received two nods, one fearful and one minimal.

As the day wore on, Halt began to grow... concerned, he supposed, about the older boy. His responses and reactions were so minimal as to be almost nonexistent, his gaze so empty and shuttered that he almost seemed unconscious despite being awake.

Halt had seen enough of him previously to know it wasn’t right. Young Will seemed to think so too for he worried, clinging tightly to the older boy, or trying to soothe him or tell him stories—likely in the manner the older boy had done for him during their stint as prisoners.

Halt frowned. The boy’s young body told plainly the story of Morgarath’s abuse. Halt knew its like had broken men older and stronger than he was. He worried then that Morgarath might have ruined him, rendering him useless to Halt as much as to Morgarath. He found he didn't savor that idea. But then he remembered the defiance he’d seen in Gilan’s eyes as Morgarath had prepared to strike him down, and he didn’t think that the boy had broken.

Halt thought back then to the black void of numbness that had filled him the day the last person he had ever thought of as family had betrayed him—just as everyone else had. He sensed then that he might just understand. The boy’s father, the King, and the army he’d fought with had abandoned him in that village to save their own lives and power. And, if that hadn’t been bad enough, they had done it again, knowingly and deliberately abandoning him to a slow torturous death at Morgarath’s hands. And Morgarath had made no secret of that fact.

Decided, Halt approached the makeshift bed. Will, by then, had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on Gilan's shoulder, wrapped comfortably in the blankets. But Gilan remained awake so Halt crouched near him, surprising himself by speaking before he even had the chance to check himself.

“It won’t be the end of things even if it feels that way, boy,” he said quietly.

For a moment there was nothing. But then Gilan blinked and turned his head to look at him, the most response he’d gotten all day.

“My family, and everyone I knew, chose everything else over me as well,” Halt said, taken aback by his own honesty, part of him wondering why he was even telling him this—even if the boy’s situation had reminded him of himself. It felt almost too raw, too vulnerable to say aloud, and he questioned the wisdom of voicing it. But it was already too late to take it back. He caught a bright flicker of pain flash in the boy's eyes—gratifying only in that it was finally something.

“It hurt,” Halt continued, “but I survived and you will too. The people around you don’t get to decide your worth. People, and the nobility especially, are all corrupt and, when it comes down to it, they will always betray family and friends for power or what they think to be duty. It’s better you made a break of it now. Neither they or ideals are worth your loyalty.”

“You can say that, but it's just words.” Gilan finally spoke. There was an unsettling pause before an emotion showed on his face. The wry, bitter, smile was wholly incongruous with the situation as much as the words. “You threw in with Morgarath, traded one noble for another.”

“I don’t serve Morgarath,” Halt said slowly. “I serve no one but myself. Our interests merely line up for the moment.”

Morgarath had offered him the one thing he had wanted: the chance for survival and the influence to keep it, the influence to never again be at the mercy of another—where the false notion of trust wasn’t needed or peddled. It was a guarantee that obscurity could never promise.

“The moment there is no longer any benefit to me is the moment my ‘service’, as you put it, comes to an end.”

~x~X~x~

“You could join me.”

Halt had said it as causally and emotionlessly as if he were describing a turn in the weather instead of the betrayal of every single principle that Crowley had ever valued. For a moment he was rendered utterly speechless. Of all the things he had ever expected of Halt…

“You can’t mean that!” he protested when he finally found his voice. But Halt didn’t so much as react to the horror that had been laid bare in his words. He merely pressed on instead.

“You’re skilled, you could have a place too; leave all this behind.”

“I will not betray my country; I will not betray my King. Not for the likes of Morgarath!”

“How is your King any better? Your country is in ruin because of his impotent rule. You admitted yourself that your organization is being destroyed man by man and your King doesn’t have the power to stop it.”

“Yes, it's being destroyed—it’s being destroyed by Morgarath!”

Halt nodded, set expression proclaiming that he thought that was obvious. “Which is why joining him is the smarter play. It’s the only path that can provide you with the influence you’ve already lost with the King. Unless you care more for meaningless principles than survival.”

“Meaningless principles?” Crowley couldn’t believe what it was that he was hearing. Halt was a Ranger like him, they had been trained by the same mentor. “What would Pritchard think if he could hear you now?”

The muscles of Halt’s face twisted briefly, faintly, in something like a flinch. But it was not because of shame. Halt almost never seemed to express emotion of any kind. But for a brief flash , Crowley thought he could read a deep and bitter pain, anger, perhaps revulsion.

“Pritchard’s approval is the last thing I’d ever want to earn,” Halt said flatly, the danger in his words only increased by their softness.

The old conversation replayed through his mind for the millionth time, as it invariably did every time Crowley’s thoughts turned themselves to the questions of how he had ended up here in this situation. The deep and black fury that roiled deep in his chest had the feeling of an old friend now with its familiarity. He had steeped so deeply in it and for so long that he didn’t think he’d ever rid himself of the taste: bitter regret, loss, betrayal��failure.

“Crowley?”

The soft call made him turn his head from the blackness outside his window to Lady Pauline who sat at his candlelit table.

“I’m sorry,” he said, coming back to himself and the dinner they were meant to have been sharing. “I’m afraid I’ve not been the best company tonight.”

She raised one elegant brow at his understatement. He sighed softly in resignation.

“Tonight, and for the past several months,” he allowed honestly.

Pauline gave him a small smile, one that held more sadness than amusement, understanding.

“We’ve all been through a lot. It’s only natural to feel angry.”

She could always read him too well. Which, given their friendship, should really stop surprising him.

“Yes. We have all lost too much,” he allowed, thinking of the fiefs Morgararth had taken, all the good men lost to the war, the loss of the old King, Queen Rosalind, and too many more to name. “I shouldn’t be allowing myself to wallow in it, I know. I’m the Ranger Commandant now, I need to keep a clear head... but sometimes…. I don’t know, it just feels too personal to keep from my mind.”

“You’re thinking of Halt,” she said softly, more a statement of fact than a question.

Crowley let his shoulders slump in defeat.

“I trusted him,” he admitted quietly. “And I can’t help but feel that had I not done so, I could maybe have prevented all this.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her as he admitted it, afraid that he would see the dark confirmation of his thoughts on her face.

“Yes, you trusted him. But, Crowley, whether you trusted him or not, that wouldn’t stop him from making his own choices. It wasn’t your trust that caused him to join Morgarath.”

“I know that,” he said finally, and he truly did. But that wasn’t the real problem. “It's not about the outcome of it all. It’s about my judgment—or my catastrophic lack of it.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to make a bad call. And getting betrayed by someone isn’t a reflection of intrinsic faults in you.”

“I’m supposed to be the Ranger Commandant,” he protested with a shake of his head. “I’m supposed to be better than that.”

She met his gaze steadily. “If I was the one who had been betrayed, would you think less of me?”

“No,” Crowley hastened to assure her. “And it isn’t really that I think getting betrayed in it of itself is a poor reflection of me. It's…” he struggled to find the words he needed, “more than that. The problem isn’t just that I trusted him—it’s that I liked him. I genuinely liked him. And what does that say about me?”

The words tasted as bitter as the acknowledgment felt. Surely now she could understand the magnitude of his failure. He was surprised when he felt a gentle hand on his arm in place of the anger and condemnation he had expected. He looked up to see Lady Pauline shake her head.

“It says that you are the kind of person who looks for the best in others. A person who not only has hope but tries to bring it to everyone around you. This world is dark enough already as it is. We need people like you willing to take the risk of reaching out, or nothing would have the chance of getting better. Sometimes it won’t work; sometimes there’s a price to it. But isn’t that better than the alternative? Crowley, this was not your fault.”

This was not your fault.

Crowley felt a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes as much at the sentiment as the fact that the words had echoed with ones he had heard before, before the Battle of Hackham Heath. One of the last things Pritchard had ever said.

“I need to tell you something, Crowley. It’s… important,” the words, though soft, grated harshly with the effort it had taken to get them past bloody lips.

“Don’t try to speak,” Crowley attempted to stop his old mentor. “Save your strength. You can tell me after I find help.”

He cast a desperate look around for help of any kind, but could not see much in these dark tunnels beneath Gorlan Castle. Pritchard shook his head, offering Crowley a sad, resigned smile that whispered the truth they both already knew. It was too late...

“I know you blame yourself but, what happened with Halt…” He shook his head, taking a shuddering breath that rattled in his lungs. This time, Crowley did not attempt to stop him, sensing intrinsically that this was something he needed to say.

“It was not your fault. It was mine… Halt… he could have been among the best of us, but I destroyed that, destroyed him. I didn’t want to. By all that is good, I didn’t want to.” His eyes glistened with desperation, desperation for Crowley to believe him, to understand. Pritchard coughed weakly before trying again to speak.

“In Hibernia , something happened. I was put in a situation with no way out, nothing but terrible choices with infinitely worse outcomes. I told myself that I could justify picking the lesser evil. But that’s no excuse for what I did.” Another harsh and wheezing breath. “Halt paid the price for my choice—a cost too heavy to be borne by someone who had already had too much taken from him, experienced too much betrayal and pain. I’m sorry, so sorry... before it's too late… I wanted someone to know.” Fingers growing weaker by the second briefly tightened their grip with desperation, with regret.

“Crowley, I’m sorry,” he whispered with one last breath, grip finally loosening with the dimming of his eyes. They stared ahead, unseeing.

Tears blurred Crowley’s vision as they fell unchecked. He pulled his mentor close—gripping fiercely at something he could not bear to lose but had already slipped his grasp.

I’m sorry.

A keening sound escaped his lips. He did not know if the apology had been for him or for Halt or simply for everything that had happened, for the unfeeling hand of life or fate.

Declination

What if Halt joined Morgarath instead of the Rangers? A small AU based off of this prompt/story idea from @nilswolf8.

Link to read on AO3

“I could use a man like you in my ranks.” Morgarath said, finally getting to the point behind the clandestine nighttime meeting he had summoned Halt to.

“I can’t say I care much for the idea of being used.” Halt replied, truth cutting through the sarcastic way he had phrased it. 

“Merely an expression,” Morgarath assured with a wave of his hand. “Regardless, I would value someone with talents like yours. And there’s much that I could offer you in return for your services.”

And, now that the offer was out in the open, Halt allowed himself to consider it.

When he had first come to Araluen, he’d had a vague idea of joining the Rangers. That was how he had been trained, and their high, influential, position in Araluen was no secret. He’d been interested in seeing what he could gain by working his way up to the top of such an organization. Although he had always preferred to work in the shadows, power promised a sense of control and protection in a way nothing else could manage. Halt had spotted his opportunity when he met, and saved, Crowely in that tavern. But the Rangers were not the seat of power they had once been and the tides of war were shifting.

Which left his choice between Crowley and Morgarath. He knew enough to guess that Crowley might be the safer person—but, in the end, it really wasn’t about people.

Halt had learned long ago there was no such thing as love or loyalty. People only ever used others for as long as they had something to gain, and then simply discarded them when that use had run its course. All that really mattered was how much one could extract from those connections before they invariably died.

The choice really came down to what could be attained in the end, and what path offered the greatest chance for survival.

Halt had no real sense of connection to the Rangers. That had ended the day his old life had, deep within the cool blackness of the river that had nearly claimed his life.

A sharp memory of pain caused him to reach a hand towards his chest. The passage of time had done nothing to temper his memory of that day, and he doubted it ever would. He’d been reborn from the water that had been intended as his grave. He’d clawed his way to the bank, gasping for breath, water stained red and pink with the blood his injuries dripping around him. His mouth had been seared with the ash of desperate but unheeded words—the last time he had ever called for mercy or help.

His fingers brushed against the twisted scar tissue beneath his clothes, but felt no sensation save for the numbness of severed nerve endings. It was a blank nothingness that matched the cavernous feeling that had settled deep inside his chest since that day. He didn’t know if he even remembered anymore what it truly felt like to feel.

Everyone he'd ever thought he’d loved had either tried to kill him, or had left him to die. So, connections and sentiment meant nothing to him.

In the end it really was an easy choice. Morgarath simply had more to offer than the Ranger’s ever could. He had the greater odds for victory and therefore promised a greater chance of survival and a greater chance of potential gain. It was the smarter, more logical option. And he’d be lying if he said he was unsympathetic to anyone daring to rebel against a vitiated King and bring an end to the corrupt nobility he so despised.

“Well, what do you say?” Morgarath’s sibilant voice broke the grip of his revelry.

“I’d say we should talk terms,” Halt said.

Morgarath smiled, eyes bright with a calculating light. “Let's hear them then.”

He listened as Halt stated his counter offers, reasonable terms for spoils and a higher more autonomous position on Morgarath’s ranks.

“Prove your worth to me and you will have all that you asked for,” Morgarath said, holding out his hand to signal his agreement.

Halt took the offered hand.

~x~X~x~

Halt stood in the wreckage of a burning village, the place where the last vestiges of the King’s army had fled after their crushing defeat at Hackham Heath. The King and several of his knights had escaped—but they had been the only ones to do so.

Halt’s strategy, combined with Morgarath’s Wargal army, had decimated the King’s forces. They had chased the last of them here to this village; a place they had tried, and failed, to find refuge and defensive footing.

The broken remnants of the King’s army had not been enough to defend this small village from the massive force of Wargals Morgarath had sent. That was clear enough from the carnage around him. The bodies of Wargals, soldiers, and villagers lay intermingled where they had fallen: the unavoidable price of war.

Halt inhaled the sharp smoke from the fires burning around him, his bow at full draw and leveled at the last standing soldier—if a child could really be called an enemy soldier.

The boy, no more than twelve years old at the most if Halt had to guess, stood defiantly, sword held defensively in front of him, eyes shining with wild determination. Before his feet sprawled the unmoving bodies of Wargals and even a few men that he had slain. Behind him, clinging desperately to his legs was a younger boy, probably no older than five if he had to guess, and very likely the last survivor of the villagers that had once called this place home. His large brown eyes were blown wide in pain and primal terror.

“Why haven’t you released your arrow?” Morgarath’s sneer came from behind him. “He is the enemy. One less of them breathing is all the better for us. Or is his age too much for your scruples, Halt?”

“It isn’t that,” Halt said blandly. “It’s that killing him would be a waste. I saw him before when I reconnoitered the King’s army camp. He’s the son of Sir David; the newly appointed Battlemaster to the King. I figured he'd be worth more to you alive as leverage.”

“Indeed?” A vicious gleam came to life in Morgarath’s eyes even as his lips curled in a cruel smile. “Then size him and kill the village boy.”

Halt saw the older boy’s eyes widen at that callous order, flashing for the first time with fear and, just as quickly, calculation hastily covered.

He brandished his sword as the soldier’s closed in.

“If I’m worth something to you alive then so is he,” he addressed Morgarath, indicating the younger boy with a tilt of his head. “He’s my brother. If it’s ransom you want, my father would pay for us both.”

“Your brother?” Morgarath challenged scathingly.

“Illegitimate, but yes. My father fell in love with his mother when he was last stationed near this village,” he explained hastily.

As Halt watched the boy, he found himself feeling an unexpected measure of interest towards him. He was skilled in combat, seemed more intelligent than the average knight, and was quick on his feet.

He was also a liar.

The young village boy was not any blood relation of his despite his story, Halt was certain. His tells were minor ones, but they were there. He was merely trying to protect the younger boy from death, though Halt couldn’t piece together a motive as to why—he couldn’t fathom what the boy possibly stood to gain from it.

Every word had been a falsehood. But the greed in Morgarath’s expression showed plainly that he hadn’t caught it. He seemed far more interested in the added leverage of a potential scandal. Halt, for his part, said nothing. It wasn't his responsibility to keep Morgarath from being manipulated by a child. That was something the Warlord should be able to do for himself.

“Take them both,” Morgarath ordered.

Halt shrugged. It didn’t matter much to him either way. 

~x~X~x~

“Perhaps you could tell me why it is that your father doesn’t value your life enough to agree to my demands?” Morgarath’s raging carried almost as loudly through the dungeon passages as the anguished sounds of screaming did.

It had been over a month since the capture of the two boys, since the Battle of Hackham Heath where King Duncan had escaped with his a few of his knights and commanders. The King had holed up in a fortress in the far north, with eighteen fiefs still under his command. Morgarath’s ploy to use Sir David’s son, or rather ‘sons’, as leverage had not met with the success he wanted.

Having received a less than favorable response to his ransom and blackmail demands, Morgarath had flown into a rage and decided to vent it on the object of his anger. Halt’s mouth turned down faintly at the uselessness of it all. Like all emotions, rage was ultimately pointless and would fix things as little as torturing a child for the decision of their parents. Which was to say, not at all.

Morgarath would have been better served to lower the conditions he set for the boys’ safe return. Halt had always known that no knight with the barest trace of loyalty or duty to his King would have agreed to such concessions—even if he did profess to love his son. The life of two boys weighed against the safety of what little remained of Duncan’s kingdom was a clear logical choice.

Halt rounded the corner, stepping past the guards there. They did nothing to stop him as he’d become a more than familiar figure.

“Were you just that much of a disappointment to him or does he just not care?” Morgarath demanded of the Battlemaster’s son.

Halt entered the cell silently, watching as Morgarath lunged at the helpless knight’s son, watched as the youngest boy strained against the chains holding him, tears streaming down his face as he screamed desperately, despite his obvious exhaustion, for Morgarath to stop. For his part, the knight’s son was far past the point of words, past even the point of screaming anymore. He did not answer the furious warlord. The lack of response only seemed to infuriate Morgarath more.

“Maybe my demand wasn’t taken seriously enough. Maybe I’ll start chopping off pieces to send to him. Maybe then he will listen! Maybe then he will start to care!”

As he said it, he drew and raised his sword, edge down for a cutting stroke at the boy beneath him. The boy’s eyes, though barely conscious and filled with pain, still glistened defiantly. Brave and defiant, just as the younger one was.

Halt felt something unidentifiable stirring in his chest at about the same time he felt the idea, which had been stirring in the back of his mind ever since he’d predicted the failure of Morgarath’s ransom scheme, solidify into clear purpose.

“Hold a moment, if you would, Lord Morgarath,” Halt said calmly, but loud enough to be heard as he stepped forwards.

“You had better have a good reason for interrupting me,” Morgarath hissed venomously, stopping his blade mid-swing by only the barest frenzied grip of his self-control. 

“I do. Before you damage him irreparably," Halt said, gesturing toward the downed boy with an inclination of his head. “I have a proposition. Why don’t you give both boys to me?”

“For what purpose?” Morgarath asked.

The rasp in his voice and the clenching of his fingers told Halt that he was only seconds away from losing his temper entirely. Halt knew he needed to be concise and quick if he wanted to be successful.

“The way I see it, if their father already refused the deal, it's unlikely there is anything you can do that would cause him to suddenly value his children more than his duty or position. But they can still be useful to us. The King still has many Rangers left at his disposal and they even now give him a greater advantage in this war. I figured that you could use a similar advantage. What if I could train for you, your own force of assassins with the skills of the Rangers? We could rival and surpass Duncan in every aspect. These two,” he indicated the boys, “could be the start to it. I see potential in them already.”

“And if you are wrong about them?” Morgarath asked, though Halt could see that he was already growing interested in the idea, the familiar hungry gleam was back in his gaze.

“Then,” Halt shrugged, “you can finish what you started.”

Morgarath seemed to think a moment before sheathing his sword.

“If you want them, take them,” he said dismissively, words languid. “They are no longer of any use to me.”

[shadowed-ranger]

Ok so I had a headcanon that Crowley has a lute (everyone calls it a mandola btw) and he constantly annoys everyone with it

Got inspiration from this 

[the80hbee]

If a Ranger dies while their still-in-training apprentice survives, then that apprentice carries their Oakleaf until graduation around their wrist. When they graduate, they have a choice between getting their own Oakleaf or inheriting their Mentors.

No apprentice has ever chosen a new Oakleaf for themselves.

@brilliantinsultsgalore ‘s hc ^ (from a post of rangerthursday’s) has spawned this devastating idea in my head.

imagine an au where halt dies for will somewhere in the whole skandia plotline. and will does this. gilan taking will aside on the docks as crowley stood, frozen, unable to comprehend that halt was dead and gone, and tying the leather cord with shaking hands around will’s thin wrist. tears sliding down both their faces.

gilan probably took will on as his apprentice. their mentor-apprentice relationship was a little unique for its near-equal, older brother-younger brother dynamic — and part of that was very intentionally done by gilan because he wanted will to be sure that he wouldn’t ever try to take the place of halt in will’s life, but also partially because gilan was unsure of himself and felt he couldn’t teach will as well as halt would have.

crowley was hesitant at first to let gilan take will on since gilan was pretty inexperienced and rather young for an apprentice. but gilan was the one who welcomed will back from skandia and cared for him 24/7 through that initial week back filled with a constant onslaught of night terrors and flashbacks and panic attacks. not that they stopped then, but the healer they were working with had suggested they try going back to a gentler training schedule to put some normalcy and structure into will’s life. and when will had said that he really, really didn’t want to be apprenticed to anyone besides gilan, gilan had been determined to move heaven and earth to make it happen. so crowley resigned himself to the fact that halt passed on his stubborn, fierce protectiveness to gilan (and was secretly warmed to see the strength of love and family created between the two apprentices of his, uh, his lifelong best friend), and let gilan take will on, so long as gilan regularly kept in touch with crowley and another nearby senior ranger (in a neighboring fief), in case gilan ever had any questions or wanted advice.

and after the first months of gilan being will’s mentor went amazingly well (within the context of will continuing to work through the trauma of skandia — halt’s death as well as all the canon things)), crowley moved the two of them back to redmont. because honestly, they both know the fief very well from their time with halt, and the duo were proving very capable. and not that crowley said it in his reasoning, but redmont was closer to araluen than meric fief, and this way crowley could visit them much easier.

at some point, will takes to rubbing at halt’s oakleaf on his wrist as a sort of comfort/nervous fidget, and some of the scuffing on its surface left by halt’s everyday wear starts to fade, polished away by time and will’s rough fingertips. will panics when he first realizes this because he feels like he’s erasing the evidence of halt from it, and gilan finds him on the edge of a panic attack one day, going back and forth between saying it’s a stupid worry then sobbing that he had failed halt — which was really about will’s survivor’s guilt, his deep fear that he hadn’t done enough and it was his fault, that he should have saved halt or halt shouldn’t have had to save him in the first place. gilan knows that deeper issue isn’t something he can solve right then, but he could sit with him and help will at least see that no matter how the oakleaf changed, it was and always would be halt’s oakleaf — and one day, also will’s, because there was never any doubt about that. and gilan and also is like. well maybe rub the back and edges more since most of the scratches and dings and stuff are on the front right? and will is like. oh. right. yes. (and then gilan jokingly affects a stern look, reminding will of what they’d just said about how, whatever he does, will is not erasing halt from the oakleaf either way — gilan’s way of gently and humorously making sure will got the point of their talk, which he did).

and later, halt’s oakleaf turns into a sort of anchor point of halt’s memory for will and he starts staring at it as he has the whole ‘hearing the voice of someone you know very well in your head randomly popping in to give you advice or respond to something’, and then also when he thinks ‘what would halt do?’. (though he often stares more at his wrist and sleeve since he keeps the oakleaf tucked away a fair amount of the time so it isn’t dangling about and getting in the way of everything he did). then will starts more directly engaging with his mental!halt and uses the oakleaf as a conduit for that, eventually sometimes even talking out loud to the pendant and lowkey processing a lot of his grief by talking to halt via the oakleaf.

gilan finds will doing this one day and will is rather horrified and embarrassed until gilan pulls back his sleeve and shows will a bronze oakleaf around his wrist — gilan’s old apprentice necklace. gilan quietly explains how he wears it as a tribute to his mentor and father-figure, as a way of saying halt will always be gilan’s mentor and gilan always his apprentice, to hold close his memories of him time spent with halt (much of it happening when it was that necklace around his neck), and as a way of taking halt with him wherever he goes. and gilan says the oakleaf has come to represent halt for him too and that, sometimes, he also talks to halt through it, holding the pendant in both his hands and closing his eyes. gilan then reaches and takes will’s hand to lead him back to the cabin. their clasped hands are the ones each chose to wear the oakleaf on (will’s right and gilan’s left), and the bronze and silver metal gently bump against each other with a light ting! as they walk back together.

will almost doesn’t make it through his own graduation. gilan and crowley decided to keep to just the three of them, guessing that will wouldn’t want to have to deal with a big party. it would be hard enough already with halt’s painfully obvious absence at what was one of the most important events in will’s life, one where halt should have been present more than anyone else. will is eternally grateful to them for it. he decides to celebrate with his friends with a night out a few days later, and it doesn’t hurt as badly then.

after his graduation, with the familiar weight of halt’s silver oakleaf now pressed over his heart, will’s wrist felt oddly bare and untethered, so at gilan’s suggestion, he also begins wearing his old apprentice oakleaf on his wrist.

crowley smiled when he saw this. all those years ago, pritchard had fashioned a rough sort of bronze oakleaf for halt at the one year mark of halt’s unofficial apprenticeship. one night after duncan et. al. had chased morgarath back to the mountains of rain and night post-hackham heath, crowley and halt were alone back at castle araluen and with a night to themselves. halt quietly told crowley the story behind that oakleaf and then gave it to crowley, telling him he wanted crowley to have it. and crowley gives halt his apprentice oakleaf in return. crowley saw gilan with his apprentice oakleaf tied around his wrist when gilan and will had stopped by castle araluen on the way to redmont from meric, and when they left, he took halt’s apprentice oakleaf from where he had kept it in a little box and tied it gently around his own wrist.

halt’s death changed them all, forever. crowley would never again love like he had loved halt with his entire being and then more. will would never feel the love of a father, see someone like his father as he had in halt. gilan would never again trust so wholly, in unfettered totality, like he had trusted halt.

but it would be okay.

on the first anniversary of halt’s death, crowley had ridden quietly to halt’s old cabin and spent the night with gilan and will. at first, they just sat together in silence, alone together around the crackling fire. then, crowley pulled back his sleeve, showed will and gilan the rough little oakleaf dangling there, and told them its story. they spent that night crying and laughing with each other in turn, telling stories about halt, remembering the mentor and father and love of a lif-uh, best friend, that he had been to them. and so, they found they had created their own little family in one other. they were gathered at the start by the almost magnetic quality of halt’s presence that drew them all in. they were bound together by their love for halt and their grief at his death. and now, they saw their love for each other was beginning to grow and fill in the cracks. in time, it would become enough to glue them back together into something new. not quite whole. not quite broken. but okay. loved.

family.

[acewithapen]

How Does a Legend Die?

Hi! Welcome to the RA Brainrot!

WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Will Treaty dies.

Big thank you to the RA Discord!

Read on AO3 here!

Will Treaty was dead. Maddie couldn’t believe it. Smoke filled the air, and she could see Him. Jory Ruhl. He spotted her and gave a mocking salute. She choked back a sob and turned away. Uncle Will was gone and it was her fault. 

She forced herself to go quickly up the path and back to where she’d hidden the children. Scared faces peered out at her. 

“I know, it’s going to be okay.” It’s not. “I’ll get you to the closest village so they can take you home, alright?” She smiles, she thinks. It hurt. It all hurts. She called Bumper over, helping one of the littlest ones into the saddle. 

She dropped them off at the village, asking for help to return them. They agreed, and she went on her way. Maddie can’t feel anything. Logically, the best course of action is to go to Castle Araluen. She turns toward Redmont. 

Bumper tossed his mane and she hunched forward. It…it wasn’t standard Ranger procedure. You were supposed to stay alert and watch your surroundings. She can’t do that right now. 

Will Treaty was dead. Cassandra and her husband, Horace, stood in shock. A courier had arrived with a hastily scrawled note from Maddie. She covered her mouth, a sob breaking through. Will…not Will. Not him. He was practically her brother, he couldn’t be dead! 

“I’m afraid it’s true.” Gilan had entered silently, the man looking weary. “Maddie sent me a similar note, but encoded. Here’s the translation.” 

Cassandra took it with shaking hands, unfolding the paper carefully. Commandant, I regret to inform you of my mentor’s, Will Treaty, passing. Jory Ruhl and his men burned him alive during our mission. I’m doing my best to watch Redmont, but would it be possible for you to send someone to help me? I’m afraid I can’t do it alone. 

Maddie

Horace was trembling. She laced their hands together, squeezing hard. “So, he’s really dead?”

Gilan nodded, eyes dark. “I sent them on the mission. It’s—it’s my fault.”

They couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t Gilan’s fault, but at the same time…

Will Treaty was dead. Maddie had ridden to Halt and Pauline’s apartment, telling them the full story through broken sobs. She was on their loveseat, Sable laying on top of her as she slept. Halt dragged a hand down his face, scratching absentmindedly at his beard. His son, and that was what he was truly, had died on a mission. Outsmarted and then burned. 

He sighed. Will…it was too soon. It would always be too soon. First Caitlyn and Ferris (and Halt had long since given up on hiding the grief for his brother), and then Crowley, and then Alyss, and now Will. It was too much. 

“I’m going to make some coffee. Do you want anything?” His voice scratched its way out of his throat. 

Pauline looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes. “No…I just need a moment.” 

He nodded and turned into the kitchen, setting a pot on the stove. Making coffee was a mindless task now, years of habit culminating. He sighed deeply again. Grief had been a constant of his life. His parents, his sister, his brother, his best friend, his son and daughter-in-law. He’d seen so many people die, heard the bad news over and over again. But it had never hit as hard as it had just barely an hour and a half before. Maddie, barely keeping it together on their doorstep, only to break as he hugged her, sobbing into the collar of his tunic. 

She had cried through the story, explaining how they’d set off to take down a ring of illicit child slavery. And how Will had realized Ruhl was the one who had murdered his wife. And then it was Ruhl who killed him. Both of the Treaty’s, dead by a madman’s hands. 

Will Treaty. Allys Manwaring-Treaty. Almost Maddie Altman. So close to death by Jory Ruhl. 

[araluen-arrows]

crowley’s apprentice

**some creds to the RA discord for helping snowball this idea along

it makes no sense that crowley, as one of the bright young rangers taught by pritchard (one of the most respected figures in the corps) to not have an apprentice. like, yes, he was busy with being commandant and rebuilding, but it’s also only logical for the commandant to have an apprentice skilled at administrating and ready to take over for them if anything were to happen.

so, using the fandom’s Override Canon at Any Oppurtunity function, we have collectively decided to give Crowley an apprentice:

Gideon joins the Corps after the Battle of Hackham Heath. He participated in the battle as a squire, and he saw what difference a Ranger made in turning the tide of the battle. He decides to apply to the newly-reforming Corps after Araluen was secured once again.

At sixteen, already a renowned swordsman, he has spent four years under MacNeil, two in the Battleschool of Caraway, and he has been riding and shooting since he could walk. 

As a plus, he is the oldest son of Sir David, the King’s cavalry commander. He is charismatic, brilliant, inquisitive, thorough, and talented, the person his brother yearns to be, the pride of his father’s life and the joy of Crowley’s. 

Two years later, Gilan is thrown into a creek by the Ranger Halt and begins his apprenticeship in earnest as well. And for a while, everything is happy. Halt and crowley are closer than brothers, and now their apprentices are siblings as well. Gideon was one of the only warriors who could defeat Gilan at the sword. At Gil’s first Gathering, Gideon sees him and slings him over his shoulders despite the protests, carrying him the rest of the way to the Gathering Ground. 

He is overconfident to the point of recklessness as his only fault. but Crowley smiles fondly and lets it pass. He remembers when he was the same during his apprenticeship: bright with the optimism of youth, swaggering and sure of himself. He will temper with age, he tells Halt. Let the boy be a child. 

Gideon would never grow out of boyhood. 

<>~<>~<>

There is a lot of administrative work these days for Crowley to handle. There are rumors to investigate, treaties to rewrite, rangers to commission. But, as always, there are also enemies of Araluen to track and kill, bandits to clear from the roads, and smugglers to flush from their dens. One man, even if that man is a Ranger Commandant, can’t keep track of it all.

So Gid volunteers to. He takes up residence in the cabin near Castle Araluen, spending time there in two-week chunks. He represents Crowley in his dealings with criminals, and through him, the King. 

It isn’t like the power gets to his head or anything. but when you are a teenager (a kid, really), there is always a certain amount of arrogance involved. It is always you against the world, and there is no chance you will not emerge the victor. The world is painted gold with the promise of a bright future, and it is your oyster. 

but there is no time to be a child in the aftermath of war.

Morgarath learns of this development through his network of spies. He has spent four years now nursing his wounds, letting his bitter hatred for the ranger corps fester. and before Halt is famous and immortalized in the songs of bards, it is Crowley, the young Commandant, that is the face of the Corps. 

But Crowley is difficult to get to. He’s one of the best and brightest Rangers, and he’s based within Castle Araluen itself, the impenetrable fortress that Morgarath didn’t dare take even when he was strong. Halt is just as difficult to attack, because he’s located in Redmont, a large and populous fief. So who does he target?

Reports leak into Castle Araluen about bears, large, shambling, killing livestock and farmers in the countryside. It seems like a routine enough job: Crowley dispatches his apprentice to take care of them.

They were not bears.

These were the days where Morgarath had at his disposal the darkest creatures of myth and legend, and among them were the three Kalkara. and one apprentice, no matter how talented or bright, has no chance against the hunting Kalkara. Especially if he is caught unawares.

Gideon tracks the creatures into the forest. The paws seem too large, half again as wide as a man’s hand, and he thinks that there might be an extra toe, but the path is muddy and it’s difficult to tell. Suddenly, his horse shies underneath him and skips backward, but then she freezes altogether and collapses. Her heart has stopped of sheer terror. As she falls, Gideon just manages to kick himself free of the saddle. He goes for his sword, then realizes it will not be enough. 

Facing him is one of the ape-like beasts, standing nine feet tall with scaly skin and luminous yellow eyes. They draw him like a moth to flame, and it takes all his willpower to drop his gaze. His brain is working well enough to recognize that if a creature wants you to look it in the eyes, it is probably not a good idea to look it in the eyes. 

Faster than thought, he draws his throwing knife and hurls it at the creature’s face. It sinks nearly hilt-deep into its cheek: Gideon is just mere inches off-target, but mere inches could cost him his life. The Kalkara bellows in pain and he feels a moment of satisfaction, but his heart freezes as he hears an answering bellow.

Two answering bellows.

Gideon darts for the river, just a hundred meters away, wades across it, and dives behind a boulder. He can practically feel the Kalkara’s hypnotizing eyes on him, daring him to look up. He still doesn’t know what these things are, but his instincts are sound. His horse looked at those eyes, and his horse is now dead. Bottom line: do not look at the eyes. 

He hears a splash and realizes the first Kalkara has followed him all the way to the river. Gideon closes his eyes. He cannot outrun. He can cower and hide, or he can stand and fight.

As the monster bears down on him, he fires arrow after arrow at its face, hoping to blind those terrible eyes. It is halfway across the river. Three-quarters. 

His third arrow takes it in the right eye, and his fifth the left. It screams, an unearthly, undulating sound, and leaps for the bank, intent only on punishing the one that caused it such agony. 

The first blow shatters Gid’s longbow and numbs his right arm all the way up to the shoulder. He claws his sword out of its sheath with his left hand, and metal meets flesh as the Kalkara strikes at him again. He scores a long cut along his forearm, but the force of the blow nearly knocks the weapon from his fingers. 

Before he has time to rally, the third hit drives him to his knees, cracking ribs and setting his lungs on fire. He can barely roll out of the way as the Kalkara stumbles and collapses next to him, having finally vanquished its archenemy. 

Briefly, he wonders if the sun is setting early, but then realizes his eyesight is dimming; there is no coming back from this. Crowley, he thinks as his vision goes black. Crowley, I failed. 

<>~<>~<>

Three days later, when a panic-stricken Crowley finally receives the report from the search parties, he thinks the same thing. It should have been him out there. It should have been him facing the Kalkara.

He can practically see Morgarath sneering at him. A child has died because of you. You couldn’t protect one apprentice—how will you ever protect forty-nine Rangers? 

A hot rage rises in his chest. Morgarath had taken Pritchard from him, nearly taken Halt, and now he had taken Gideon as collateral damage with one goal in mind: to hurt Crowley as much as possible. 

In a way, it does work. Crowley never takes another apprentice. He no longer trusts himself to bring up another promising young Ranger and see so much potential squandered because of him. He does not want to bury another child.   

But Crowley does not let Morgarath win. He does not rest until Morgarath is well and truly dead. For three decades, he serves as the Corps Commandant, longer than any before him and any after him. 

“Married to his job”, the people joke, but they are actually not far from the truth. 

Crowley is guarding Gideon’s legacy. 

[saiilorstars]

It Had To Be You

Ch.12:  Not Alone // Story Masterlist

Fandom: The Flash

Pairings: Barry Allen x Original Female Character

Pronunciation of OC’s name: Bell-en. The last syllable has an emphasis so it’s not pronounced like ‘Helen’ would be.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: Just as Christmas is coming up, tragedy strikes...

Plasticine rubbed her face twice before dropping it and facing the newest member of their small team. Even behind her mask, the young man could see her utter frustration with his lack of progress. It wasn't his fault, he was sure.

"Your sister is far too...into this whole anti-metahuman team," his hands waved in the air to show that he too was frustrated. "You should have heard her when I suggested we write that article against the Flash and the Azalea - she nearly had my head!"

Plasticine narrowed her eyes on him. "What did you expect? You were suggesting she bash herself in this article! Idiot! Is that really the best you could come up with, Noah?"

Noah Gilan growled and tore the frost-made mask around his eyes. "It's easy for you to say considering you barely even talk to her! I have to constantly come up with ideas to get Belén to willingly come to this team."

Plasticine gently removed her own mask and gave him a sharp look. "You're creative. It's why I liked you enough to put you near my sister. I thought you two would click. Clearly, I was wrong."

Noah turned and walked away from her. He leaned against the desk that served as Rayan's workspace in the warehouse. "Maybe it's time to just...tell her everything."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, sit her down and explain to her why we're here and why she should come. Your sister likes things direct and maybe that's what we should have done in the first place."

"You can't-"

"We've run out of ideas and if you can't come up with anything better then I'm following this," Noah shrugged, his blue leather making the only noise in the small office. "I'm gonna talk to her."

"But not as 'Noah', right?" Plasticine raised an eyebrow. "If she disagrees then she can't know you're her co-worker who-"

Noah raised a hand to stop her. "No, don't worry. I know how to take my precautions. She won't be talking to Noah. Azul will be the one speaking," he promised with a clean smirk on his face.

~ 0 ~

"Okay Dad," Belén beamed after setting down the last box of Christmas decorations on the dining table. David Palayta was sitting at the end of the table, once again engulfed in his work. "Dad!" Belén called again, stomping her foot for attention. "I got them all out," she gestured to the other boxes she had taken out from the garage that were now spread around the living room. "Can we start now?"

David looked up with an amused little smile. He knew this was Belén's favorite time of the year and even though he didn't quite feel the same about the holiday, he still took part in it for his daughter.

Belén rolled her eyes and straightened up. "You keep saying that."

"Have I?" David returned to his work on his laptop.

"Yes! That's why I took out the boxes myself," Belén crossed her arms glumly, mumbling, "I thought you'd see they were heavy and help me."

David chuckled. "I brought in the tree, no?"

Belén glanced back into the living room where the Christmas tree was neatly planted in its usual corner, albeit without decorations. "Yeah, but...that was this morning. You said you were gonna help."

David took a pause from his work to look up at his daughter again. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. There's just a lot of work down at Mercury Labs lately and as lead doctor on this I need to make sure everything is going according to the schedule."

"What's your secret work anyways?" Belén took to rummaging through the box on the table, pulling out broken baubles.

"Oh, nothing…"

"Yeah, right," Belén scoffed and pulled out a plastic candy cane. "If that were true you'd be helping me set up…"

David playfully rolled his eyes then. "Listen, Bells, as soon as I'm done with this I will come and help." Belén lowered the plastic candy cane and gave her father an odd look. "What?" David asked, confused.

"You just called me 'Bells'," Belén put down the candy cane and smiled. "You never call me that. It's either 'Belén' or - when you're mad or serious - 'Anna-Belén'."

"Well, I hear your new friends calling you that," David shrugged. "It's kind of nice."

"Cisco is pretty good with nicknames," Belén commented and grabbed the broken baubles she'd taken out and headed for the trash in the kitchen. "That's why I wanted to get him a good Christmas present," she returned empty-handed and took a seat beside her father. "I don't really have guy friends and this year I met some really good guys - friends," she amended after her father gave her a look. "Dad," she laughed, "I'm allowed to have friends that happen to be guys."

"I suppose…" her father muttered quite earnestly as he typed.

"C'mon," she laughed again and rested her arms over the table, clasping her hands together. "I really want to get Cisco and Barry good presents but I have zero ideas on what that entails."

"Something they like, perhaps?"

"Gee, Dad, because I hadn't thought about that yet!" Belén took a long sigh. "They're both, in technical terms, scientists and, well...I've got zero ideas."

"It's not that hard unless you make it hard," David gave her a matter-of-factl look. "Give them something they can use for their jobs."

"Yeah but I don't want to go for, like, paper weights...it has to be good. They've been good to me so it's only fair."

"Quite a lot of thought you're putting into this don't you think?"

"Don't look at me like that," Belén quickly wagged a finger. "It's because they're guys, I've explained this. I already know what to give Caitlin and Iris - I get them. Oh my God," she suddenly blinked as if something had stricken her, "You're gonna give me paper weights aren't you?" David bellowed a laugh but Belén remained quite serious. "You are so gonna give me paper weights, aren't you!?"

David patted one of her hands and smiled. "I haven't picked out anything, don't you worry. But I might go for a paperweight - you like pink, right?"

"Dad!" Belén exclaimed miserably while he laughed and returned to his work.

~ 0 ~

"Merry Christmas, Linda," Belén put down a neatly wrapped lavender box on Linda Park's desk. "Do not open right now," she added as a late warning when she saw Linda reaching for the present.

Linda rolled her eyes and dug underneath her desk to pull out a small, baby-blue wrapped present. "Same goes to you," she warned and laughed.

"Thank you so much for everything you've done for me this year," Belén smiled softly. "Don't think I've forgotten."

"Belén?" Noah walked up to the two wearing a tight smile across his lips. Belén, out of sheer politeness, turned to him.

"Yes?" her voice was strangely coated with forced kindness.

Noah, seeing he was still not on her good list since the publishing of the anti-Flash article, sighed. "I just wanted to say Merry Christmas," he had been holding a cylindrical-shaped present in an arm and now held it to Belén.

"O-oh," Belén, surprised, blinked rapidly. "You...got me a present?"

"Well, kind of a brief one, you know," Noah shrugged. "I know we don't know each other very well, and, well...with our disagreements…it's just something small, you know." Belén exchanged looks with Linda and took the present. "You can open it now," Noah said almost immediately. "Least, I would so it wouldn't wither."

"Wither?" Belén repeated in confusion. Noah simply gestured her to open it herself. She carefully ripped off the wrapping paper and revealed a glass cylinder case over a bright, pink flower inside. "An Azalea…" Belén's eyebrows raised, momentarily feeling nervous. Could it mean Noah figured out who she was!?

"Yeah, I, um, I remembered you talking about them and I figured it would be the start of my apologies," Noah smiled.

"It's beautiful, thank you," Belén then felt guilty because she hadn't even thought about a present for Noah. After the bet they'd made their relationship had a strain.

Noah smiled bigger and glanced to Linda. "How do you feel about chocolates?"

Linda laughed. "Talk to me when you've got peppermint patties."

"Will do," Noah shot her a wink then took off.

Belén gazed at her pretty flower for another minute before Linda spoke again. "Bells, you okay?"

"Yeah," Belén gave a small nod. "I guess I should just lighten up with him already."

"That would be nice," Linda agreed then her eyes flickered to the entrance doors. "Being picked up?"

"Hmm?" Belén followed her gaze and beamed when she saw Barry coming for them. "Hey!" she greeted him.

"Hey, I was going to S.T.A.R Labs, thought you wanted to come by…?" he asked with a wide smile, practically assuming she would say…

"Of course! Let me just go get my bag," Belén put down her Azalea and wagged a finger at Linda. "Don't touch."

"Where did you get that from?" Barry pointed at when Belén walked away.

"Noah gave it to me," she shrugged and hurried off for real then.

"Noah," Barry mouthed with a sudden dislike that even he was surprised for a moment. He sobered when he noticed Linda's smirk.

"Afternoon, Barry," she greeted as if he had only just gotten there.

"Linda," he coughed awkwardly, knowing he'd been caught.

"So, where's my present?" she asked sarcastically and laughed while Barry stood still quite awkwardly.

"Look, about that…" he moved closer, his voice lowering so that only she would hear him. "I'm having a little trouble coming up with a present for Bells and I remembered her saying something about being an aerial dancer at one point-"

"The best," Linda interrupted him to say, apparently deeming it important for him to know.

"Wait, you saw her?" Barry blinked and leaned in closer. "So it's true then? She was actually a...a…?"

"Aerial dancer," Linda finished for him and nodded her head. "And yes, she was. I went to a couple of her shows and she was one of the best. My favorite one was the 1920s one she did. I was so sad when she told me her mom made her quit so she could go into journalism."

"Great!" Barry exclaimed and soon realized how that sounded and quickly shook his head. "I meant - not as in great that she quit, but…"

"I get it, Barry. So, what did you have in mind?"

"I don't know much about that stuff but I know the city does play host to dance clubs around. Who's to say I can't find one and, I don't know, make a present out of it."

"Going quite big aren't we?" Linda mused, raising her eyebrows suspiciously.

"I just wanted to show her how grateful I am with her," Barry said briefly. He couldn't tell her how happy he was to have another metahuman beside him who understood him when others couldn't.

"Well," Linda drummed her fingers on her desk, "I'd be thankful too if some pretty girl took care of me while I was in a coma."

"Will you help me or not?" Barry asked flatly, ignoring his warm face.

Linda smiled at him. "I would love to, but I really don't know much either. But do you know who you can ask help from?"

"Who?"

"Belén's father. He always supported Bells in her dance routines. I'm sure he would love to give you a tip."

"Right," Barry considered the idea and felt his face get warmer. How would it look if he dropped by Mercury Labs to ask David Palayta if he could help with a gift for his daughter? Even he understood what that could imply.

~ 0 ~

Barry was pulling out wrapped up presents for Caitlin, Cisco and Dr. Wells in the cortex. Caitlin "awed" as she took hers into her hands while Cisco shook his to guess what was inside.

"Merry Christmas. Just a small token of my gratitude…" Barry handed the last present to Dr. Wells. "For everything you guys have done for me this year."

"I think I speak on behalf of my colleagues when I say you've been a gift for us, Barry," Wells praised, Cisco and Caitlin agreeing with nods.

Belén chose to come into the room with several cups in her hands which she placed down the desk. "Oh, we're not passing out gifts right now are we?" she took notice of the presents around. "Because I haven't actually gone out present shopping…"

"It's alright, me neither," Caitlin admitted with a made face.

"And I'm not finished yet either," Barry made sure to clarify afterwards. "So, um...don't think...don't think you're not getting one…"

"I'll be waiting on my toes then," she playfully winked. "In the meantime, where's the eggnog you promised?" she leaned forwards, trying to peer into the bag Barry had kept his gifts in.

"There's eggnog?" Cisco quickly raised his eyebrows. "Show me the eggnog."

Belén laughed as Barry dug into the bag and pulled out a red thermos from it. "This is compliments of Iris... Grandma Esther's famous eggnog."

"That's what I'm talking about!" Cisco exclaimed and motioned Belén to start passing out the cups.

"Maybe later for me," Wells broke through the happy moments. "Wouldn't want to drink and drive."

And in a rather somberly mood, he left the room.

"Did I say something wrong?" Barry whispered cautiously.

"No, man," Cisco shook his head. "He, um... this used to be his favorite time of year, but the accident happened before Christmas, so…"

"It ruined the holidays," Belén guessed quickly and took a deep sigh. "I can understand that. My parents divorced around this time and suddenly Christmas is a taboo for everyone. I'm surprised sometimes my dad let's me decorate and celebrate like nothing."

"I'm gonna go get him a present. Maybe that'll cheer him up," Caitlin resolved and added another 'thank you' to Barry before leaving.

"I doubt it honestly," Belén said glumly, raising her filled mug of eggnog to her lips.

"You're not gonna go all Grinch on us, right?" Cisco curiously wondered as Belén drank from her cup.

"It's been eight years, Cisco, I think I'll manage." Belén laughed and snatched the thermos from Barry.

"Hey!"

Belén backtracked around the desk with a wide smile. "But I will be like a Grinch this time to take this!"

"Nu-uh, hand it over," Cisco frowned and, just like Barry, moved towards her.

"Nope," Belén grabbed her bag on the way out. "I'm gonna see if Cait wants to head together to the mall for present shopping. I intend on getting all my presents today and wrapping them. My dad's not gonna be home till late so this is my only day to get things done. Neither of you dare to stop by, got it?"

Barry heard a silent alarm in his head go off. This could be his chance! "Y-your dad's gonna be at work all day?"

"Mhm," Belén drowned the remainder of her cup. "So, wish me luck, guys!" she cheerfully waved at them and dashed out...still holding the thermus.

"Not with the - oh forget it," Cisco huffed and resigned to see the rest of the eggnog leave with her. He'd have to get Iris to make more later...and then keep it far, far away from Belén.

Barry started leaving as well, without an explanation, when Cisco called him back.

"Where are you going!?"

"Present shopping!" Barry did the same wave before taking off, leaving a mildly confused Cisco behind.

~ 0 ~

"He's actually very easy to shop for," Caitlin remarked as she and Belén walked down the second floor of the mall, Caitlin already holding a shopping bag in one hand. "Just buy something Walking Dead related and you're set."

Belén laughed at the easy way offered. "You're not that wrong…" She had explained to Caitlin her situation with presents and apparently Caitlin didn't see the big problem Belén did. Belén assumed it was because Caitlin knew Cisco and Barry longer than she did.

"It's simple," Caitlin assured, and glanced at her friend. "Cisco - check."

"Okay, let's just say hypothetically that I do get Cisco something Walking Dead related, but what about Barry? We once watched it together and though he talked a lot - and I mean a lot - I'm pretty sure he was saying he didn't like it."

"Hmm, a little trickier…"

"Maybe I could ask Iris for help," Belén remarked then added with a light grimness, "But that still leaves Noah."

"Noah?" Caitlin was now looking at her crazy. "You mean the jerk who wrote that anti-Flash article? You're getting him a present?"

"He gave me one in good peace," Belén explained. "And, considering it's Christmas, maybe I can...forgive him…"

"Bells!"

"Well, Barry didn't look so upset anymore so if he doesn't mind why should I?"

Caitlin gave her a look then shook her head. After a while more, the two split to go find a couple more presents. Belén took her chance to snag a gift for Caitlin from a perfume store then headed off for Iris' and Nina's presents. She walked into a clothing store, recalling one certain purse Iris had gaped over for a good ten minutes last week. Passing by a couple departments, she stopped in front of a pretty blue handbag with a golden chain as a strap.

Belén raised it up to see and turned it over a couple times. It was then that she felt eyes on her. She lowered the bag and glanced over her shoulder. People was passing by in a hurry, no one sparing her any looks. She started feeling a little cold and quickly put down the bag to further investigate.

Tugging on her jacket, she got out of the bag section and returned to the women section.

"Do you need help, ma'am?" A cheery blonde woman stopped her.

"No, no, I'm fine," Belén absently responded, her eyes still scanning the area.

Then, she caught someone dashing out of the store.

Belén did the same.

She ignored the loud "heys" from people she accidentally pushed past. She could see that someone, a man under a blue mask wearing a matching blue leather, was running up ahead. The staircase was apparently no trouble as he ran down them, swinging his legs over the rails. Belén came down in hasty pace, coming to a stop just a couple feet from the fountain. She was panting, the need for her sweater void as she yanked it off her. Her head turned constantly to try to catch the secret man. He was gone.

Suddenly, the fountain went haywire and splashed people nearby. Belén held an arm over her face but was still drenched in water. This was clearly a part of that man's powers - he had to be a metahuman.

As she patted her hair dryer she noticed a peculiar pattern of water droplets where people sat on the fountain. The droplets crystallized into ice bits that formed words.

Meet me at the city's park tonight at 11 p.m where your brother's altar used to be at if you want to know about your brother.

~ 0 ~

It was an odd feeling walking into Mercury Labs on his own. It felt even bigger to get by with the excuse he was on "CCPD business". Looking at it, it did feel a little big for a present. Because, it was just for a present after all. Barry wanted something nice for Belén, that was all. Just a present. Just a present. Just a -

"Mr. Palayta," Barry had come to a stop just outside a room.

The older man in question looked up from a microscope and smiled. "Barry, afternoon. What brings you around?"

"Um…" Barry walked in, already feeling a thousand times more awkward than before.

"Is there something wrong?" David raised an eyebrow, a faint trace of concern writing across his face. "Has something happened with Bel-"

"Belén is fine!" Barry clarified with a frantic hand gesture. "Everyone is fine."

"Oh," David instantly relaxed and now, confused, looked at him expectantly.

"It's just...um…" Barry was trying to think of a way to explain his idea without making it look like something else. "See, it's nearing Christmas...and...I'm looking for presents for everyone, and right now...I'm on Belén's. But, see, it's a bit more complicated because...because...she helped my family when I was in that coma-"

"Oh yes, I remember," David returned to the microscope for his work. Barry thanked the action because he was sure his face was turning quite read.

"And so I wanted a present that would show my gratitude…"

"That's very nice of you Barry. What did you have in mind?"

"U-uh," Barry gave a nervous laugh, somewhat relieved he was taking it casually. "I know that Bells was in some sort of aerial dance group a couple years back."

"One of the best I say," David chuckled. "I was never on board with the idea of her quitting but Veronica was adamant."

"Yes, I hear…"

"So, you want my help I take it?"

"If...if you don't mind...giving me some pointers maybe?" Barry asked, now his nervousness quite visible. "She mentions it sometimes and I feel like she misses it a lot. I...I wish I could bring her back somewhere like that…"

"Do you know," David raised once again looked up from the microscope and leaned a hand on the table, "I think I know a particular group doing a show real soon. Belén would be ecstatic to see them."

"Really!?" Barry perked up and moved closer. "And d-do you mind helping me...uh, you know, pointing me towards them I mean…"

David smiled almost immediately. "I would be delighted to."

~ 0 ~

That evening, Belén was quietly finishing placing bushy green wreaths over the front window of her living room. Her father, who wore a wide smile on his face, was helping her by keeping a tight hold on the ladder she stood. He would've done it himself but Belén always liked hanging the wreaths herself.

"Belén, dear, why are you so quiet tonight? I thought you wanted my company…"

"Of course, Dad," Belén swallowed hard as she finished up the job. "We're done now and I'm very tired."

"Are you sure that's it?" David helped her down the ladder. "I wouldn't head back to work if you're getting sick."

Belén put on a smile for him. "I'm fine, I promise. I was at the mall doing present shopping and now I'm tired. I'll just head to bed early."

"Alright then," David placed a kiss on her head and walked towards the foyer. "And did you find all your gifts?"

"Um, not all," Belén plopped down on the couch, facing his way. "I've still got Iris, Nina, and Barry."

She decided after her run at the mall Cisco would most definitely be getting something Walking Dead related. It was one less thing to worry about. As for Noah, she picked up a simple shirt for him.

"You be sure to pick out something nice for them, then," David hid his knowing smile as he put on his jacket. "I'm sure they're all doing their best to get you wonderful presents."

Belén wearily looked to the side, her mind no longer on gifts. "I'm sure too…" she agreed quietly.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

"You'll be gone all night?"

"Yes, unfortunately. But Dr. Dorrance and I are hoping with these extra hours we're putting in we won't be working on Christmas nor New Years."

"Hopefully," Belén repeated with a tinge of a smile for him. "But what is it you're working on? It's not like I'm gonna blab to STAR Labs, you know."

David chuckled. "It's about tachyons."

Belén blinked then shook her head. "Nope, see, you've already lost me. But thanks for sharing."

David pointed at her. "You're the one who wanted me to share."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Bye sweetheart," David said and walked out of the house.

Belén stayed where she was for a minute as she thought about today's happenings. She glanced at the wall clock - it was ten o'clock. In one hour the man would be at the park waiting for her to appear.

Her stomach churned.

Almost right after, there was a knock on her door. Belén discarded the idea of it being her father since she knew he had the key so it left her wondering who would be making a visit right now. Her first guess was Mrs. Andrews but instead she found Barry on the other side with a grim expression on his face.

He knew.

"Caitlin told you, didn't she?" Belén quietly asked as she let him in. Of course Caitlin would tell Barry what happened at the mall. It'd been unfortunate for Caitlin to know about it in the first place but Belén had to explain of her wet appearance and her sudden chase down the mall.

"You are not going," was the first thing Barry needed to make clear for her. "Don't you even dare. It's too dangerous!" he walked into the living room, stopping only to see to observe the decorations put up. "Hey, it looks nice."

With a hint of a smile, Belén walked past him and sat down on the couch again. "Thanks, my Dad finally got around to helping me. Now please, just listen to what happened okay?" Barry nodded and sat on the armrest of the couch, paying close attention to what Belén had to say. "And so this guy literally put me into a chase on the second floor. When he disappeared, he left behind a frosty mess with the fountain. He's a metahuman, Barry. I'm assuming he controls ice or something because he left me a message on the floor - written in ice. I'm supposed to be meeting him tonight, in about an hour."

"I'm sticking to my first statement: you're not going," Barry declared again, waving a hand at him. "It's clearly a trap."

"But don't you think if they wanted to hurt me they would've done it by now?"

"I don't know how evil people think!" Barry put himself beside her, desperately trying to make her see logic. "Their plans, whatever they are, are not to benefit you."

"But he knows about my brother," Belén whispered. "He's made it clear twice now. He wants to help me apparently. At first you sounded right - it could have been a trap - but would a person go through so much insistence just to lead me into a trap? I'm alone half the time, why not attack me there?"

"You're right, none of it makes sense, but you going to meet with this guy makes less sense. You can't go!" Barry remained adamant but it appeared Belén's emotional perspective was not allowing her to see things properly.

"I have to go! I've been searching for my brother like crazy! I've even had poor Felicity helping me! I'm not gonna waste this opportunity," she promised him.

"No," Barry stood up and, after a couple paces, he stopped at the other end of the couch from her, his hands rubbing together. "Okay, compromise time, alright?" Belén gave a nod, she would listen to his idea t least. "You meet with this guy but the Flash sticks around just in case the guy gets any ideas."

"If he sees you he'll think I lured him into a trap and then I'll never know what happened with my brother," Belén frowned.

"Then I stay hidden," Barry easily offered. "I stay hidden until I sense any danger. I promise."

"Okay..." Belén agreed after a good minute of silence.

~ 0 ~

At eleven o'clock sharp, Belén walked up to the park fountain to await for the mysterious caller. The place was empty since it was a weekday but she knew that Barry was somewhere out there watching and she had to admit it did make her feel a little more safe.

Just don't go all green on this guy, she kept telling herself over and over. The last thing she needed was for her emotions to make her lose herself to that side. It would not only out her to the guy as a metahuman but it would also reveal to Barry the other side she so desperately wanted to hide forever.

"You came," a dark, modified voice called to her. Belén's eyes gazed ahead to find a man dressed in dark blue leather. His face was hidden by a matching blue mask. "I had to admit I was a little doubtful of you-"

"Quit the stalling, please," Belén rolled her eyes. "You know about my brother?"

"Yes, you can say that I do," the man gave a small nod of his head.

"Who are you?" demanded Belén. "And how do you know my brother, then? I want to know now."

"My name is Azul, and I met your brother a short while back..."

"So he's definitely alive," Belén whispered. She knew this wasn't the first time she heard it but at least now she could say it with confidence. Her brother was alive and she would find him. She would find him and bring him back home.

"Oh, definitely," Azul actually confirmed for her.

Belén met his eyes again and felt a twinge of annoyance for his lack of explanations. "How the hell do you know that? And if he's alive then where is he? What've you done with him?" Azul laughed, much to her annoyance. "What are you laughing at? I asked you a question and I demand to know the goddamn answer!"

Her tone had apparently been the wrong one because Azul shot an icicle directly beside her. She gasped and jumped to the side, her gaze then flickering between the broken icicle on the ground and Azul.

"You don't ever speak to me like that, you got that?" Azul pointed at her. He started coming towards her and with each step he took Belén backtracked it. "I am the one who holds the information you so desperately crave."

"Stay away from me," Belén gritted her teeth. She balled a fist on her side and prayed that side would stay away.

Azul did not heed her words. Instead, he created another icicle and held it against Belén. "You feel brave, Belén? I honestly don't think you're capable of it."

Belén swallowed hard and took one more step back. "You don't know me."

"No but your brother does. If you come with me I can show you where he is."

"I think not," Belén said without hesitation. Now that sounded like a trap.

"Let's go, Belén. You know you want to come," Azul said with overconfidence. He wouldn't risk telling her everything about them until she was at least with them in case she decided to refuse them. Belén did not move nor respond so he took charge. He aggressively grabbed her arm and pulled her forwards.

"I'm not going!" Belén exclaimed in his face. She didn't have to repeat herself because in a second a strong force had pulled her at least ten feet away from Azul.

Barry was extremely glad Belén had agreed to this plan. He wasn't getting a good vibe from Azul and this just proved there was something wrong with him.

Azul was forced back because of the sudden yanking of Belén's arm. When he regained his composure he was facing not only Belén but a figure in red leather right next to her. "What an honor it is to meet the Flash," Azul gave a mock bow to the speedster. "Can't say I'm surprised, though."

Belén frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Her response came in the form of a laugh. "You're joking me."

Barry was in no mood for joking. "I don't know who you think you are but you do not bring her here just to confuse her even more. If you know something about Rayan then say it already."

Azul tilted his head and pretended to think. "Hm, I don't think I'm feeling up to it anymore."

Belén felt the rage that led to that side and could barely control it. "That's not fair! You said you knew where he was!"

"I did. But you have to leave him-" Azul pointed at Barry, "-before you get anything out of me."

"No, why should I?" she snapped. "He's been helping me too. Although unlike you he wasn't obscure about anything. What he knew he told me and I expect the same from you."

"There's that demanding thing again. I don't like it," Azul scowled. Both his hands created icicles which he then raised at them. "I can be a good person but you don't want to test these waters."

"You need to back off," Barry spat, taking on an unexpected hostility towards the man. He was not going to stand there and just watch this guy threaten him and Belén. Azul redirected his aim at Barry instead.

Belén panicked at the idea of a fight and stepped forwards. "No! Just...just tell us what you know, please?"

"Come with me," Azul told her again.

"No," Barry answered for her. "She's not going anywhere with you." He exchanged a look with Belén and hoped to God she knew it would be stupid to go with Azul. Although confusion filled her eyes she gave the sense that she agreed with him.

"Oh, so you answer for her now?" Azul raised an eyebrow.

"No one answers for me," Belén replied. "But it just happens that he's right. I'm not going anywhere with you, at least not until you give me something concrete."

"My help is limited-"

"You're not helping her," Barry cut in. "You're making her feel like she owes you, like she should be grateful that you're trying to bring her to her brother when in reality all you're doing is manipulating her feelings. She'll find her brother. I'll help her do it. My entire team will. But you are not coming close to her again."

"You want a fight, speedy?"

Before Belén could cut in, Barry sped up to Azul and without a doubt answered, "Anytime. But it's not a fight you'll win considering I could just speed you to my personal jail for all bad metahumans."

Azul seemed to consider that ending and decided his best option - for the moment anyways - was to retreat. He needed the numbers of his own team to combat the speedster. He took a step back and pointed at Belén with one of the icicles he still held onto. "You'll hear from me again, I promise."

Belén couldn't help feeling just a little threatened by that even as Azul took a calm departure from the site. Barry soon returned to her and wondered, with concern, how this would affect her.

"Hey, you okay?" he gently shook her from whatever it was she was thinking about. Her eyes met his and under the little light the park offered at the time he could see their glimmer of looming tears.

"It's not fair..." she mumbled and looked to the side.

"I know," Barry agreed with her but he knew his words made no effect on her. He instead took her into a hug that could maybe give her more comfort than words would.

From a distance, Azul stopped to glance back and was still unsurprised to find the two metas in their current position. It was exactly what he reported to Maritza, Rayan and Angie when he returned to Angie's apartment.

"Let me get the straight, we send you to retrieve my sister and in return you come back with this absolutely dreadful story?" Rayan rubbed his temples on the couch.

Angie came out of the kitchen with some headache pills in hand and a glass of water in the other. "That's pathetic, you know? I had to deal with her when she was in her meta getup and I still came out better than you."

"You were shot," Noah retorted.

"Yeah, I know," Angie shot him a smirk as she sat down beside Rayan and handed him the pills and glass.

Rayan gulped down the pills and drowned some water afterwards. He then gave his older sister a sharp look. "Congratulations, you brought a moron into this group."

Maritza rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know plans didn't go well but how am I supposed to know? I'm not psychic and, up to now, you aren't either so be quiet."

"If you could have just let me take her by force then-"

"No," Rayan cut him off before he could finish. "You don't touch my sister. I should have thrown you out the window for what you did anyways but I'm gonna be nice this time and let it slide."

It was Noah's turn to roll his eyes then. "Things would be easier if she didn't have that Flash trailing after her."

"Get rid of him," Angie said casually like it was the easiest task in the world. "Aren't your powers, like, colossal damage against his?"

"Theoretically, but it's much more complicated than that," Noah shrugged. "If I do that then I'm sure to have a raging Azalea after me. I told you that your sister was smitten and now I'm sure of it. You should have seen both of them at the park."

The mere idea once more put Rayan and Maritza into fits. Neither sibling wanted to even think about the possibility of their little sister having any feelings for that speedster. They wouldn't allow it.

~ 0 ~

It was late in the night yet at Mercury Labs everything was still lit up like it was merely eight in the night. Two security guards strode into a large room with silver tables lined on either side, all leading up to an enclosed, black glass room that held only one small device inside. They met with two other employees, two of the leading doctors.

"Happy Holidays," one of the security guards greeted them.

"Thank you, Jimmy, and to you," a Doctor greeted them back.

"I think we may be done for the night," the second Doctor declared with a relieved sigh as he closed the lid of the tablet he held in his arms.

"Just as well," went the first, looking relieved as well. "It's nearly three! Let me lock it up though," he nodded to the enclosed room before walking away.

The first doctor followed alongside the guards towards the two large silver doors at the end of the room.

"Hey, doc," Jimmy the guard began, looking at the first doctor, "I know it's a big secret, but can you give me a hint? What exactly are you working on in there?"

"The future of course."

They came to an abrupt stop when a loud alarm blared around the room. The lights shut down to leave only a flashing red illuminating the place.

"Doctors, get inside!" Jimmy motioned the two doctors away who turned into a sprint towards the room. "Lock down the facility!"

The two guards pulled out their guns to greet their or intruder. However, the intruder zoomed straight for them and easily took them down. He then sped towards the enclosed room, blocking the way for the second doctor.

"Lock it down, Dorrance! Lock it down!"

Dr. Dorrance did as told.

~ 0 ~

Early in the morning the CCPD were contacted and right away appeared on the spot. As Joe strode down the room, Barry was squatted near one of the three corpses with a look of, well, horror. For once, he was speechless.

"Hey," Joe came up, wearing more or less of a grim face. "What are you thinking?"

"Many things," Barry mumbled as he got up to his feet. "But, as for the evidence, the blood splatter patterns and trajectory of the remains... only a high-speed collision could have done this. But to cause this type of damage to a human in this space? Whatever hit them would have to have been moving fast."

Eddie walked up to them after conversing with the remaining witness. "Get this. The witness says all he saw was a blur. Sound familiar?"

Barry was soon faced by Joe who, for a split second, wondered if it was possible that-

"Let me in!" shouted someone from the entrance. "I said move!"

"Uh oh..." Joe mumbled under his breath as they turned to see who was causing the commotion.

Sure enough, Belén was battling her way through two police officers. She was frantic and refusing to take 'no' as an answer.

With a nod from Joe, Barry rushed over to retrieve her. "It's alright guys, she's with us."

Belén pushed past the two officers and rushed forwards. "I got a call and" - she ran past Barry, forcing him to go after her - "and I thought it was a joke! But, b-but-"

"Bells, you have to stop-" Barry reached forwards but barely grazed her arm.

"Where is he? I need to see him!" Belén ignored everyone's voices as she went straight to the farthest laying corpse on the ground.

"Belén, you can't-" it was Joe who had finally caught her, but it was too late...she had seen the corpse.

What came out of her mouth next was neither coherent nor human. Sobbing, she frantically tried getting past Joe to reach her father's corpse. She pushed, she jumped, she hit and she pleaded.

"You have to let me see! Please! You have to!" She cried desperately but every time she made an inch forwards Joe pulled her back. "I'm his daughter! Let me through!"

"Barry!" Joe glanced back at the younger man, the latter only staring grimly.

He nodded and took ahold of Belén's arms which he used to bring her back. Belén didn't care who was holding her, she only cared to be let go. "Barry, you have to let me go! I have to see him-"

"Belén, you need to calm down," Barry gripped her arms and forced her to look at him. With her tear-stained face he could barely hold himself together in a professional way. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry-"

"Don't say that…" her eyes filled with fresh new tears. "B-because if you...if you s-say that...th-then….then it m-means that...that…" her lips thinned as she pursed them together, seemingly trying to hold in her new sob, "...that my dad's actually...actually dead…" her attempt was in vain because seconds after she burst into new tears.

Barry took in a deep breath and, as best as he could, he told her it was true. He didn't think he had ever seen her break down like that. Her loud sobs attracted many onlookers but no one said anything about it. They let her release her tears as freely as she wanted to. When she saw Dr. Dorrance talking with Joe and Eddie, she ceased crying and scrambled towards them, ignoring Barry's calls to "wait".

"Dr. Dorrance!" she cut into the conversation. Her tone was unusually, and yet completely understandable, cold. "You need to tell me what happened here! Now!" Dr. Dorrance looked to Joe and Eddie as if asking for permission to speak what he had already told them. Belén didn't like it. "Don't look at them look at me!" she ordered harshly. "I want to know what happened!"

Dr. Dorrance took a breath in before repeating himself. "There was...a blur...of some kind. Whatever it was, it was looking for something."

"Well, what did it look like?" Belén demanded, her voice still mighty loud and harsh.

"Like a-a man in some kind of yellow suit…"

Belén froze while Barry nearly lost it. Eddie led Dr. Dorrance away to continue further witness evidence and Barry started in the opposite direction.

Joe went after him, knowing exactly how this was about to go. "Okay. Barry, listen…"

"I have to check my files!" Barry exclaimed urgently. "Joe, you heard him, all right? The man that killed my mom... he's back."

"I know. He's been in town for a few weeks now. He paid a visit to me at the house. He took all the evidence from your mom's case."

Barry's eyes widened. "The files are gone-" he scowled - "Why wouldn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I couldn't…"

"Why?"

"Because he threatened to kill Iris."

Barry stayed put, his jaw tightening. Joe sighed and glanced over his shoulder.

"He's already made good on showing his powers…"

Barry looked past him to where Belén was knelt down beside her father's corpse, quietly weeping to herself. This would not go out in vain - the man in the yellow suit had many things to pay for.

~ 0 ~

Now in STAR Labs, Joe was recounting the situation to Dr. Wells and Cisco. Barry preferred not to tell it again, not when he had done it with Belén already. He was plopped on a chair, with a face that no one wanted to cross at the moment.

"The witness described seeing a yellow blur just like the one that killed Barry's mother," Joe finished with the banger of the story.

Cisco stopped sucking on his Christmas candy cane. "Then we need to get cracking and stop this speed psycho." He flinched and sent an apologetic look at Barry. "That... I wasn't trying to give him a name."

Barry was in no mood for his friend's typical jokes. He raised his eyes only to remind, "The crime scene at Mercury Labs was on a floor with highly secured vaults, and the witness said he was looking for something."

"Whatever it was, he wanted it badly enough to kill for it," Dr. Wells muttered.

"Doctor, what do you know about this Mercury Labs?" Joe asked.

Dr. Wells raised his eyebrows, smiling in what seemed like amusement as he worked on a nearby computer. "Mercury was one of STAR Labs' major competitors until our little setback, and then it catapulted to the forefront led by Dr. Christina McGee, brilliant but egocentric physicist." He pulled up the profile of the woman onto one of the wall computers.

Cisco had taken a tablet from the desk to do his own research. "It says here Dr. McGee has secured half a billion dollars in private funding to develop, and I quote, "prototypes for the technology of the future."

Barry raised his head again when something came to mind. "Belén mentioned that her Dad was helping work something secret…" and that was possibly (and most likely) the reason he had died.

"Tina's messing with tachyons," Wells said, but didn't seem so surprised. "Superluminal particles. Of course."

Joe looked from one to another expectantly. "So what could someone do with one of those…"

"Tachyons."

"Thank you."

"Well, I don't know. Become invincible? if you could devise a matrix stable enough to harness their power, you could travel faster than light."

Barry got up from his chair, his hands balled into firm fists. "He's gonna try to get them again, so we need to get what Mercury has and use it as a lure."

"We could ask Bells' help," Cisco mumbled under his breath as he turned to leave but Barry had heard perfectly.

"No," Barry had so coldly that Cisco flinched. "She just discovered her father's been murdered. Off limits."

"Yeah…" Cisco made a face, "...you're right. I'll go find Caitlin."

~ 0 ~

Caitlin, however, was not in STAR Labs. She was at Belén's house, along with Iris, trying to help Belén get through her tough moment.

"Not exactly Jitters but it's still pretty good," Iris walked out of the kitchen holding a mug of tea. "I don't usually do tea but…" she stopped in front of the long couch where Belén sat and lowered the mug, "...it's supposed to help you relax."

"I can't relax my dad's just died," Belén unusually snapped but Iris ignored her. She knew Belén wasn't like this, she was hurting and she would need to release her anger and pain somewhere.

Caitlin walked down the staircase. "I've got your room setup, Bells, for you to take a nap."

"I don't want to sleep!" Belén nearly spilled the mug of tea in her hand. "I don't want to 'relax' nor 'rest' doesn't anyone understand? I just want…" her lips pursed together as another round of tears threatened to spill.

Iris looked over the couch to Caitlin, the latter slowly making her way towards them. They were trying to be as cautious as possible, as helpful as possible, but it didn't appear they were making such progress. So far, they had only managed to help in calling Belén's elder sister - Maritza - and her mother to give them the terrible news.

Belén didn't bother finish her sentence. Low sniffles became the only noise in the livingroom. She looked down at her mug from which she hadn't even drank from yet.

Iris took a seat on her right and put a hand on Belén's back. "There are literally no words that I can say to make this better, but you know that you can talk to me about anything."

"Yeah, me too," Caitlin nodded her head and sat down on Belén's left side.

Iris thanked her with another nod. "Caitlin and I have both lost people" - Iris missed Caitlin's look as she turned her head away - "so we both have a little understanding of what you're going through."

Belén unceremoniously sniffed as she forced herself to look up. Since she'd gotten home she couldn't bring herself to look at the Christmas decorations she and her father had just finished last night. It hurt too much to see them and know that her father would never help her decorate again. It was silly, she thought, but it was something they had always done together. Who would help her now?

Iris let Belén stay silent for another while. "You know, if you want, we can put them away." Belén snapped her head in her direction, almost surprised Iris guessed her thoughts. "I know your traditions. If you want, Caitlin and I can put them away while you go rest."

"I don't want to rest," Belén felt like a child repeating this over and over. She put down her full mug on the coffee table and got up, moving away. Caitlin and Iris hurried to do the same and watched as Belén grabbed her bag and red coat. "I don't want to be here," she announced at the doorway. "I just...I can't look…" when she felt threatened by tears again she shut her mouth, flung opened the door, and hurried out.

"We need to go," Caitlin told Iris who nodded in agreement. They each grabbed their things and scrambled to catch up with their friend.

~ 0 ~

"What do you mean my father's dead?" Rayan was nearly shouting Noah's head off. He was about a fraction from slamming Noah into a wall, and then some.

Noah, despite the little fear creeping over him, held his head high and once again explained. "Belén was in earlier in the day. She was a complete disaster because her father had been murdered the previous night."

"LIES!" Rayan screamed and actually threw Noah across the room with an angry wave of his hand. Noah landed face down and picked up his head to see Rayan pacing back and forth, seeming unbothered by his attack.

Noah knew better than to reproach him for it. He pushed himself up and dusted his jeans off. "He was murdered, alright? Something about a thief coming in to take something Mercury Labs was developing on."

Rayan stopped pacing and turned to face Noah. "We need to find out what this thing was…" his teeth gritted together and Noah was surprised to see a small vein popping in Rayan's forehead. "What was so important that my father had to die because of it?"

"Right now it's impossible to talk to Belén. She's not gonna want to tell me anything," Noah sighed. "I just have to be the understanding friend."

But his words flew right over Rayan's head. There was nothing that could phase him at the moment: his father had been murdered and he couldn't even attend a funeral in his honor.

~ 0 ~

Very quietly, barely making a noise with her heeled boots, Belén crept into Barry's lab. She didn't know what she was doing honestly, her mind buzzed and rang with so many different thoughts. She was tired - oh she was so tired, but home didn't feel like an option. She didn't want to face Iris nor Caitlin at the moment, and Cisco either. She had avoided Cisco's calls and managed to slip from Caitlin and Iris at her work. At the moment, she could only fathom seeing Barry. And even that had her nervous, because what if she was wrong?

"Barry?" she called as she made her way in. He didn't answer the first time. He seemed lost in thought on his chair, his eyes glued to a large pinboard in front of him. "Barry?" she called again, but he still did not respond. It didn't even look like he was aware she was in the room. Without raising her voice to the point of being heard downstairs, she called to Barry again.

This time, he finally heard her and jumped in his chair. With wide, blinking eyes he turned on his wheeling-chair to face her.

"You were deep in thought…" Belén observed and came forwards, gaze drifting to the pinboard. "I suppose there's no point in asking on what…" She stood just beside it, eyes flickering from one picture to the next, to a newspaper clipping and so on. "Is this your mother's case?"

"Yeah," Barry nodded. "I used to study this board every day. Lately, I haven't looked at it as much as I should have."

"It was him, though, wasn't it?" she looked back at him. "That...that blur that…killed my dad and the security guards yesterday?" Barry nodded again. She left the pinboard and started to walk around, really not interested in anything except to kill time.

"What are you doing here?" Barry finally asked, but he wasn't very shocked to find her there - Belén picked up on it. "Iris has sent me a bizzilion messages asking me if I knew where you were."

"Oh yeah? And what did you tell her?" Belén stopped in front of a table near the pinboard. She picked at a couple trinkets.

"That you were with me of course. I didn't want to worry her - I knew you would be coming in sooner or later."

"You didn't know that," Belén frowned momentarily before realizing where she was at. She pretended to be casual as she shrugged. "Big deal, you were right. So, are you gonna tell me to go home and get some rest?" The rudeness in her tone made no effect on Barry. He merely blinked and gave her a small smile. "Why are you looking at me like that? Don't look at me like that." Barry raised his hands in surrender and looked away, but his smile remained intact. Belén shook her head and looked at the pinboard again. "So this guy - who is he?" she demanded, and she knew she was. "What the hell does he want?"

"Dr. Wells seems to think the guy was after Mercury Lab's prototype of Tachyons," Barry explained.

"That's what my Dad was working on," Belén remembered the strange word her father had told her. "Some stupid tach...tay…"

"Tachyons."

"Whatever!" Belén snapped but abruptly stopped to take a deep breath. She swallowed hard, turned her back on Barry, and wiped her eyes dry. Without saying a word, she returned to the table near and fiddled with the trinkets again.

"I know you're here because you have questions," Barry began when he thought she would be a little more open for hearing.

"Questions?" she spared him a brief glance, pretending to be more focused on a small hour glass. "Why would I have questions? I don't...have questions…"

"You're not very good lying, Bells. Especially when you need sleep."

"I DON'T NEED SLEEP!" she bursted. Barry remained unaffected. Belén sniffed and glued her eyes to the toy hour-glass. "I'm fine."

"Look, you can ask questions today about the man in yellow, or we can do this tomorrow...when you're…" he stopped when she threw a warning glance at him, "...tomorrow…"

"I don't want to do this tomorrow. I don't…" Belén shook her head.

Barry sighed, leaning forwards on his chair. "Belén, please, just...go home. Get some rest," he gently said to her. "Don't sleep, fine, but just go home and lie down for a couple hours."

"Home…" Belén repeated sarcastically, a bitter smile as she bobbed her head. Her smile faded as her eyes watered, the correlation so visible yet no one had caught onto it...until then.

Barry straightened up, his eyes boring on her while she continued to fiddle with the hour-glass. "You don't want to go home," he realized, his eyebrows raising. "That's why you've been gone for the afternoon…"

Belén's coldness went down the drain as the seconds ticked on by. "It's a big house…" she whispered, "...but it's lonely now. Brother's gone...Dad's gone..."

"Bells, I'm so-"

"The decorations" - she turned around, her eyes glistening again, "-they're still up…" she pointed languidly but her voice had broken yet she continued speaking in fragments, fighting the monumental urge to cry, "...the Christmas tree...we finished it...yesterday! Yesterday! Right before he...left for work…" She shook her head, her hand abruptly jerking behind, "You want me to go back to that? Please, don't make me."

Barry quickly got out from his chair and hurried forwards. As he tried hugging her, she pushed his hands away from her, explaining what had been put up in her house.

"We put the wreaths up - I can't…" she shook her head.

"Belén-"

"And the stockings and-"

"Belén, it's-"

"The angels were put up too," by then Belén gave up on hiding and burst into sobs. Barry was finally able to hug her with no resistance. "What am I supposed to do with the angels now?"

"We can...find a place for 'em…" Barry berated himself for not being able to come up with anything better than that. He was terrible at it, or so he thought.

Belén rested her head near his shoulder, her crying subsiding in volume. Her arms were neatly tucked in-between her and Barry. Through her thick, red coat she could feel Barry's hand running up and down her back. She thought it actually did make her feel a little better, she didn't know why but it just did.

"Okay, Bells, this is what we're gonna do," Barry spoke after a while. "You don't want to be alone and that's perfectly fine. I think you should stay with Iris tonight."

"But…" Belén pulled away and looked at him, her face still fresh with tears, "...do you think she'll - she'll mind?" Now that she looked back at it, she had acted pretty rude towards Iris and Caitlin all day.

"Not at all," Barry assured her.

"A-and Joe?" Belén's flickered to the doorway as if the man himself would stroll in at that moment.

"Believe me, I think Joe won't mind either," Barry then gestured to himself. "He has experience."

Even though there had been a crack of a smile for a split second, Belén shook her head at him. "Don't say things like that. I think...I think I'm gonna go talk to Joe first, though," she straightened herself up, fixing her hair as she took breaths in, "Just to...just to make sure."

"He'll be fine but if it makes you feel better, go right ahead," Barry gestured the way. Belén nodded that it would.

She looked at him for a moment then surprised him with a second hug. "I don't know why but I knew coming here would make me feel better. I was right." Barry hugged her back a minute before she pulled away again. "I'm gonna go see Joe downstairs."

"I'll meet you down in a couple minutes then," Barry smiled and walked towards his desk. He didn't want her going out alone due to that mysterious metahuman still lurking about. If he was watching Belén - like Barry was pretty sure he was - then he was probably just waiting for a golden opportunity.

When Belén walked out of the room, Barry looked around for anything he might later need for this new 'man in the yellow suit' case. He happened to look for things near the window and froze on his spot when he saw something - someone - a building across. Without a second thought, he sped out of the room, heading straight for the man in yellow.

If he had thought it was all a hallucination, now he knew he had been right all along. He sped alongside the other speedster, only catching a glimpse before he was left behind. Still, he caught him in an alley, stopping across. There stood the blur image of the man in yellow.

"It was you! You were the one in my house that night. You killed my mother! Why?" Barry was at a loss for words, the ones spoken were like a recital he memorized since he could remember. This was, after all, a moment he had been waiting for his entire life.

"If you want to know that, you're gonna have to catch me," the man in yellow retorted in a modulated voice. In a second, he was gone again...but so was Barry.

Their speedy race ended in a large, empty stadium. Lights turned on with the contact.

"Not fast enough, Flash," taunted the man before heading for him. Barry wasted no time and charged after him, only their color of speed able to tell there were people inside. It looked like they were going to collide with each other but the man in yellow seized Barry's wrist and flipped him over, letting him crash to the ground.

Barry got up within and second and charged again, this time following the man in yellow around the stadium seats. The man led him and around and around but Barry was not able to touch him. They stopped at the field again and this time Barry waited not for another charge as he went straight for the man, attempting in vain to punch him across the face. With such ease the man had once again taken control of the situation and threw Barry onto the field.

"Who are you?" Barry asked through his struggle.

"You know who I am, Barry…"

Picked up again and thrown again, strong punches were added and before Barry knew what was happening, he was on the ground again with a hard foot stepping over his back.

"I don't know who you are!"

"But you do, Barry. We've been at this a long time, you and I, but I'm always one step ahead. It is your destiny to lose to me, Flash, just as it was your mother's destiny to die that night."

The man in yellow them chose to make his departure, leaving Barry to ponder the meaning behind his words, because truthfully Barry didn't understand one bit.

~ 0 ~

That following morning, Barry was up (and practically had been up without sleep) and relaying his encounter with the man in yellow to Dr. Wells and Joe. "He acted like he knew me, like we'd done this before!" Barry was pacing back and forth, the more he kept thinking about the angrier he got.

"He was antagonizing you, Bare," Joe resolved quick, not that it mattered to Barry. It didn't look like he'd listened.

"I would get close, and he'd just pull away. I mean, this was just some sick game to him!"

"You'll catch him. We'll help," Wells assured.

"No, you don't get it, all right? His speed, it is... it's beyond me. I'm not the fastest man alive. He is. So how do we catch somebody that even I can't keep up with?"

"The beautiful thing about force fields, Mr. Allen, is they're impervious to speed. Now, we're almost finished fabricating the trap, and all that remains is for Detective West to procure the bait."

"I'm on it," Joe turned to leave but stopped midway. "Barry, why don't you stay here?"

"No, Joe, today is not the day to tell me to stay behind," he half-snapped.

Joe saw this was an easy loss but played his cards quite well. "You know, an interesting thing happened last night. Belén came to speak with me at the CCPD, asking if it was alright to stay with Iris at the house. I said sure, it was fine and I thought it was best for her too. So then I said, 'I'll drive you home' and then she told me you were going to take her home...but she came home alone after about an hour."

By the time Joe had finished, Barry's mind had already reminded him. "I forgot!" his eyes widened in alarm. "I-I was going to and then...then the man in yellow appeared and I - Joe, I'll see you in a bit."

"Thought you would," Joe said after the metahuman had sped out, unable to hid the little hint of smirk he wore.

"Nicely played," remarked Wells, matching the smirk.

~ 0 ~

Iris put away a carton of orange juice into the fridge - after a failed attempt of breakfast for Belén - and returned to the sink where she was finishing washing up the remainder of dirty dishes...also from her breakfast attempt. She was constantly keeping an ear on the living room, where the TV was on some show she really couldn't care less about. But apparently, it was a series Cisco recommended - or forced - Belén to watch at some point, even forcing down Iris a couple times in the process. Iris thought it was worth a shot to get Belén a little less...sad?

But then there was the sound of the door opening and Iris thought Belén was trying to escape again. "Belén!" she shut off the sink and rushed towards the living room, her hands dripping from the water she hadn't dried off. She was relieved to see Barry coming in and that Belén was still lying on the couch, rather motionless, but still there.

Barry silently walked by the couch, eyeing their mutual friend that was curled up onto a side of the couch. There was a white blanket draped over her still body, and her head was resting over a cushion. With eyes locked onto the TV, Belén didn't seem to acknowledge either of them. It didn't even look like she was actually watching TV either.

Iris motioned to Barry to follow her into the kitchen. "I'm glad you're here cos my shift starts in thirty and for some reason neither Caitlin nor Cisco are answering my calls. I don't want to leave her alone…"

"What about her sister?" Barry had to ask. He would often course stay with Belén but there was also a sister they couldn't ignore.

Iris rolled her eyes. "She mourns on her own apparently." Of course had phone Belén's sister, but Maritza preferred to grieve on her own, it was part of her cycle and Iris, despite being upset, wasn't very surprised. It was the same way she'd mourned her husband and her younger brother. Iris understood each person had a different way to mourn their loved ones but wasn't staying close to your family more important? A better way to grieve?

"Her mom isn't coming in till the day after tomorrow," Iris continued to explain. "I think it's good she listened to you and stayed here. But I just don't want to leave her alone."

"Yeah, I know," Barry nodded. "What's she, uh...doing exactly?"

"Attempting to watch television, I don't know," Iris sighed and started back for the living room. "She doesn't want to sleep though, and she's done good because she hasn't, not even a bit. I'm confident her body's going to force her at any moment now."

When they returned Belén was in the same position she was earlier, she hadn't moved in any way. Iris took a deep breath in and approached her.

"Bells, are you sure you don't want-"

"If you finish that sentence, I'll throw you this cushion," Belén threatened, her eyes glued to the television across. Zombies were being slashed.

Iris sighed and straightened up, moving over to the couch chair and plopping down. She gestured to Barry to try his luck now.

Barry did just that. "Bells, can I…?" he gestured to the small empty spot beside her on the same couch.

Without saying a proper answer, Belén shuffled until she had sat down, pulling the blanket around closer to her. "I don't want to talk," she warned him, a slight colder tone than on Iris.

"I'm sorry I left yesterday," Barry guessed the reason for the different treatment. "Things...came up…"

"I said I don't want to talk," she repeated, seemingly discarding his apology.

"Right, let's just listen to zombies then?" Barry pretended to get more comfortable, discreetly scooting closer to her.

"I'm promised Cisco I would continue watching," Belén gave a prompt explanation for her odd sense of television.

"He'll be so happy to geek over it with someone…"

"You're one to talk," Belén retorted quietly, and for once Iris was sure she saw a little smirk at the corner of Belén's mouth.

"What are you talking about?" Barry remained perfectly innocent looking. "You know I don't like this show, none of it makes sense!"

"That's because you're looking at all the wrong thi-" a yawn interrupted Belén then. Barry exchanged a look with Iris, the latter encouraging him to keep going. Cautiously, Barry moved one arm around Belén and, with a little nudging, she rested her head on his forearm. "You're looking at it all wrong," she said afterwards, her eyes blinking slower but still overly resisting the urge to shut completely.

"But how can you look past them?" Barry continued as well, gesturing to the television. "I mean, look at that? The proportions are all wrong!"

"What proportions...they're zombies…"

"Which were technically people! The cut up heads are completely wrong! The size of an average human head is around 22 inches and that is not it."

In the meanwhile, Iris propped an elbow on the armrest, leaning her cheek onto her palm. She was so lost on everything Barry was saying, and it appeared Belén was too. Her eyebrows were knitting together, but her eyes were loopy now.

"How do you expect me to believe this had been an actual person when the eyes are too far apart? The jaw is disproportionate! That's not even the worst though, if we want to delve in deeper we need to discuss some of the logic behind this. How they fight is completely unrealistic. They've been killing zombies in the same area and yet there's still dozens and dozens of them-"

"Barry!" Iris finally exclaimed when she herself drifting off. The metahuman in question, startled, glanced towards her. With a hand gesture from her, Barry looked to his other side and found Belén a little slumped against his arm and finally asleep. "If I had known that all she needed was to hear some nerd talk I would've called you in hours ago."

Barry made a face at her but focused on setting Belén down on the couch again, choosing to leave her the entire space. He gently placed her blanket over her and made sure it completely covered her. Bringing a cushion to her head, he brushed some of her hair away from her face.

Iris watched all this from her spot on the chair. Something went off in her mind, and cautiously, and earnestly, she spoke that conclusion. "You're not...actually dating...are you?"

Barry glanced at her, wearing a sarcastic surprise over his features. "But what would make you say that Iris?"

Iris smiled, playfully rolling her eyes. "Alright, so I was wrong. My bad."

"Thank you," Barry reverted back to his common smiles. "So," he walked to the end of the long couch and sat on the armrest, "what made you finally get it?"

"That I know you perfectly well," Iris shrugged. "You've had like two girlfriends but I know when it's a relationship and looking at you now…" her eyes passed Barry to Belén who slept peacefully," ...and her... I don't see it. Bummer."

Barry rolled his eyes at her. "Well, at least something went right."

"Oh, don't get all smug with me. The signs were there!"

"They really weren't," Barry said back, bemused.

Iris took a long, dramatic sigh and waved her hands at him. "Fine, I was wrong. But you have to admit there wasn't much I could think other of. It's just…" she leaned back on her chair, making a face. "I talked to Caitlin yesterday, and...I asked her, if there was something new with you that I should know about."

Barry stiffened. "Like wh-what?"

"I don't know, you tell me! Lately I feel like you don't want to share with me anymore. I get that you've made other friends and that they probably understand more of the words that come out of your mouth than I do but...I miss you. And," Iris pursed her lips, a little smile weasling out, "I don't know...I feel like you spend a whole lot of time with my friend," she gestured to Belén again, "than with me. What do you two do?"

Barry cleared his throat and looked away, quickly racking his mind for a good answer. "You know, we...talk? And then...you know, we have...mutual friends…"

Iris gave a small nod, but his answer did no better for her. "Things are meant to change, I get it, but I miss you. You think you could make some time for little ole me?"

"Of course I can," Barry smiled at her. "I always do. There's just many things going on right now, but you're right. So right."

"Do you know," Iris leaned forwards, her own smile widening, her happiness finally glowing, "Eddie asked me to move in with him...and I said yes."

"Wow," Barry's eyes widened, "Wow! Congratulations, Iris!"

Iris was completely giddy. "You're the first one I tell!"

"And you've been dying to do so, huh?" Barry raised his eyebrows, trying his best not to laugh at her excitement.

"A bit," Iris bobbed her head, chuckling for a moment. "I haven't really had an opportunity to. I mean," she paused and looked towards at Belén, "I didn't want to bring in that while Bells is so down. Hell, I haven't even told Dad yet. Can you imagine what's that gonna be like that?" her eyes widened in fear.

Barry smirked. "Oh, just a bit. Good luck with that one."

Iris playfully reached to hit him. "Shut up! Now, I really have to go," she pushed herself up. "You think you can bring her upstairs?" she nodded past him. "I was thinking, because she's gonna stay for a couple days, she can use your old room?"

"Yeah, okay," Barry nodded, turning for Belén.

"It is presentable right?" Iris placed her hands on her hips. "Because, I love you Barry, but you're kind of a slob."

"Hey!" Barry frowned.

"And just because you're not going out with Bells doesn't mean I don't catch those little looks you give her so it's best to leave a good impression on her!"

"W-wait what? What's-"

"Remember, Barry, first impressions are very important."

Iris walked off leaving a stuttering Barry behind.

Sure, Belén was pretty and smart - and very passionate about her interests - but those were qualities of his...friend. His absolute friend.

[pinegreenapples]

Take Two Dramamine and Hope Gorlog’s Listening

Another installment in the Ranger’s Apprentice Modern AU! Specially dedicated to my awesome friend @snowyserendipity! @recon419.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Halt knew this day was coming. He knew it was and yet he still was praying that maybe it wouldn’t happen despite its inevitability.

The forest green sedan Halt had used for nearly a decade sat ominously in his driveway. It’s darkened windows seemed like soulless pits ready to consume him the second he entered. Each ding mark and dent seemed to mock him as if they knew he would be occupying the passenger’s seat this time.

Halt glared at it. He could do this, thousands of other parents did it, he could too. Besides, he had made a promise with Will. Halt could never resist Will’s irrepressible hope and optimism.

Halt took a sip of his coffee and looked back at the car again. Was it just him or did the fender suddenly look like a maniacal grin?

He grimaced and took a larger sip of coffee.

“Alright! I’m ready, let’s go!” Will blew down the stairs and hopped around for a moment as he finished pulling on his other boot. “C’mon Halt!” Will darted out the door and over to the car.

Halt took a deep breath, shrugged on his windbreaker, and prayed to Gorlog that he would survive this.

Outside Will was bouncing from foot to foot with impatience.

“Alright Will, I think to start you off easy I’ll back out of the driveway and then you’ll go around the neighborhood a few times. Does that sound good?”

Will nodded vigorously and leaped into the passenger seat. He stared at Halt with the most inane grin on his face. Halt felt the dread pool a little deeper.

Getting out of the driver’s seat and watching Will get into it felt like pulling teeth. Halt found himself repeating Will wants this over and over as he watched the boy adjust his mirrors and finally pull the gear into drive.

“Alright, now just take it slow.” Halt said, somewhat surprised as his voice remained level. Will nodded. “You don’t have to-”

The car lurched forward. Halt felt his whole press flush to the car seat. He gripped the armrests in a death grip. He felt his jaw tense up.

Will slammed down on the brakes. Halt was pushed forward and he became uniquely acquainted with the dashboard as it sat centimeters from his nose.

Halt closed his eyes and leaned back again. His stomach roiled. To his left, he could hear Will apologizing profusely. He took a deep breath.

“Perhaps a little slower this time, Will.” He stared out at the asphalt, he could do this he could.

Will ducked his head and pushed down on the gas pedal again. To Halt’s relief it was a much slower acceleration.

They kept at it for a solid half hour of lurching accelerations and sudden stops as they made their way through the neighborhood. Halt thought he was doing remarkably well, his stomach was only half protesting and his headache was a nuisance, but manageable. Granted, the nausea had grown but they were probably going to stop soon anyway.

However, the route they had been taking now ended in a T-intersection. Halt felt his heart rate ratchet slightly.

“Alright Will, luckily there’s no one at this intersection so we’re going to practice some turning. Since we want to get home fairly soon try a right turn.”

Will looked at him, his eyes wide. “Are you sure, Halt?”

“Yes Will. Go before I change my mind.”

“Okay.” Will nodded and looked down at the steering wheel. “I want to turn it to the right, right?”

“Yes. When turning regularly always move the wheel in the direction you’re turning.” Halt braced himself.

Will entered the turn. It was messy. He swerved too close, then overcorrected, and managed to hit the gas and brakes a thousand times during the 30 foot crossing to Florent Avenue.

Halt’s stomach rolled and flipped and then finally, gave in.

“Stop the car!” He barked. Will stomped on the brakes and Halt nearly lost it then and there. He fumbled with his door handle and then fell to all fours in the grass.

Halt threw up. Multiple times.

In between heaves, he noticed Will had come to stand next him, his face worried.

“Halt?”

“Call.” He dry heaved. “Crowley.” Halt bit out and threw up yet again.

Halt had just regained control of his stomach when Crowley sidled up in his pickup truck.

Will ran over to the him. They exchanged a brief conversation. Crowley glanced over at Halt, then at the sedan. He burst out into peals of laughter.

Halt imagined the numerous ways he could kill Crowley. He opened his mouth to shout a few choice expletives but thought better of it as he felt last week’s meals rise up his throat.

“Well, some pickle you’ve got yourself into, Halt!” Crowley smiled cheerfully at Halt.

The authorities would never know. Halt wouldn’t leave a trace, and then he’d finally be rid of this irritation.

“I need you to drive Will back home.” He grit out.

“And what about you?” Crowley cocked his head.

Halt grimaced, the post cookie toss shivers were always awful. “I’ll follow in a moment.”

Crowley snorted. “Alright then. If you’re not back at the cabin ten minutes after we get there I’m coming back and getting you.”

“You do that.”

Halt watched as Crowley herded a reluctant Will into his truck and drove off. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

So maybe he couldn’t do this.

It took a long moment, but Halt eventually made it to the sedan and then home. He had to pause a few times to let his headache abate but he was just glad he had made it out of the grass in the first place.

When he walked into the cabin, Crowley had his arm around a blubbering Will.

“An-and I-I didn’t mean to-”

“No of course not, Will. Halt was just being stubborn. You know how sick he gets on carousels, he should’ve asked me to help you learn to drive.” Crowley tried soothingly. Halt winced internally as Will sobbed harder.

“He-hic- di-did ‘c-cause hic I asked him hic tooo! It’s hic all my f-fault!” Will wailed.

“It’s not your fault, Will. Crowley’s right. I was just being stubborn, I know I can’t survive being a passenger in a car and I shouldn’t have pushed it.” Halt cut in. He sat in the seat across Will and took his hands.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to drive with me and I certainly don’t blame you for what happened, but I think what we’ve learned from today is that perhaps Crowley should be the one teaching you to drive.” He rubbed small circles into the back of Will’s hands.

Will nodded morosely. “‘M sorry, Halt.”

“It’s alright, you have nothing to be sorry for. Maybe we can even try again when you’re a little bit better and I have a full bottle of dramamine.”

Will sniffled. “Okay.”

“Alright. Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to take a nap.” Halt got up. “Crowley, thank you for coming, it was appreciated.”

“Oh anytime, Halt. What would my life be like without you turning green at every object that moves quicker than a turtle?” Crowley got up from the table as well and moved towards the door.

“Goodbye Crowley.” Halt bit out. Crowley just chuckled and disappeared out the door.

***

The next week, Crowley promised Will he’d drive with him. When the sedan limped back into Halt’s driveway, Halt noticed Crowley was a peculiar shade of white.

How odd, he thought in amusement, as Will bounded out of the car and Crowley-strangely- stayed put.

“Did you have a good time, Will?” Halt asked.

“Oh yeah! We practiced turning and now I can turn right pretty well but I need to work on my left hand turns. Crowley says I’m all over the intersection still.” Will bounced up and down.

“Well I’m glad you’re improving. Why don’t you go in and finish up your homework, I’m just going to talk to Crowley for a moment.”

Will nodded and ran up the steps.

Crowley finally emerged from the car.

“Well you two look like you had fun.” Halt remarked.

Crowley looked dead straight at Halt and the haunted look in his eyes told Halt that Gorlog clearly had not been listening today.

“He turns sixteen when?” Crowley sounded a little choked.

“February 19.”

“Gorlog’s horns and beard.” Crowley whispered hoarsely. “I’m not sure I’ll survive that long.”

Halt shrugged. “Perhaps Gilan would be willing to help out when he’s home.”

Crowley stared at Halt in dawning amazement. “Halt O’Carrick, you are one wily bastard.”

Halt stared unimpressed at Crowley.

“Crowley Meratyn, I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

Crowley just chuckled. “Of course you don’t.”

[spicynbachili1]

6.3-magnitude earthquake hits western Iran | News

An earthquake with a magnitude of 6.Three has shaken western Iran close to its border with Iraq, the US Geological Survey (USGS) has reported.

USGS on Sunday stated the quake was at a depth of 65km and struck 114km northwest of town of Ilam in Iran’s Kermanshah province.

Iranian state TV stated six rescue groups have been dispatched to the world. No casualty has been reported to this point, it stated.

At the very least 115 had been injured in Sarpol-e Zahab and the neighbouring Gilan-e Gharb metropolis, Kermanshah governor Houshang Bazvand informed Fars information company, the AFP information company reported.

“No stories of any fatalities but and a lot of the injured had been damage whereas fleeing, not attributable to quake injury,” Pirhossein Koulivand, head of the state emergency companies, informed state TV.

Felt #earthquake (#زلزله) M4.1 strikes 23 km W of Sarpol-e Z̄ahāb (#Iran) 23 min in the past. Please report back to: https://t.co/1D1sxg2XnW pic.twitter.com/cyywwub6UW

— EMSC (@LastQuake) November 25, 2018

Morteza Salimi of Iran’s Crimson Crescent informed state TV that for the reason that space was reconstructed after the final 12 months’s quake, officers hope there will not be casualties.

Ali Moradi, head of Iran’s seismology centre, informed state TV “the quake was not close to greater cities. But it surely may need induced injury in villages and I hope not that many villages are situated the place it hit.”

The Iraqi state media stated the tremor was felt in capital Baghdad and in Erbil within the Kurdistan area.

The earthquake struck close to Sarpol-e Zahab in Iran’s Kermanshah province, the place one other quake, with a magnitude of seven.Three, killed over 600 folks final 12 months.

Iran is situated on main seismic faults and experiences an earthquake a day on common, in response to The Related Press information company.

In 2003, a magnitude-6.6 earthquake flattened the historic metropolis of Bam in southern Iran, killing 26,000 folks.

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from SpicyNBAChili.com http://spicymoviechili.spicynbachili.com/6-3-magnitude-earthquake-hits-western-iran-news/