#vexic writes

[vexic929]

Blue Streak

Chapter 1

Warnings: none

Chapter 2: link

OC info: link

Barry and Malcolm should have been asleep - their mom and dad had tucked them into their respective beds almost an hour ago. Instead, the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner cast elongated shadows across the walls and revealed Malcolm, hanging halfway off the top bunk upside-down to talk to Barry, dangling precariously as he whispered to his twin.

"You can't name your Pikachu 'Zapster', Barr," Malcolm said, rolling his eyes, his GameBoy suspended haphazardly from his fingertips, the tiny light attachment clipped to the side nearly blinding Barry as the handheld console swayed.

"But you said I can't just stick with Pikachu, either." Barry argued with a small frown, his own GameBoy in his hands, halfway under the covers.

"Cause that's dumb, you're not Ash. He's your Pikachu, he should have a different name." Malcolm insisted.

"Then why can't I name him 'Zapster'?" Barry asked, sitting up in bed.

"Cause that's dumb, too."

Barry opened his mouth to argue again but his words caught in his throat as he watched the water in their fishtank, along with the fish, begin to float. He powered down his GameBoy and frantically gestured for Malcolm to look too, unable to find the words for what he was seeing.

Malcolm turned his head and dropped his own GameBoy, nearly falling out of bed. "Whoa..."

"Maybe...we should go get Mom and Dad..." Barry said hesitantly, eyes locked on the floating water. Before his brain caught up, his feet had already hit the floor to go do so. Malcolm hauled himself back onto his own bed before climbing down the ladder quickly and joining his twin as they crept towards the door and down the stairs.

The air itself felt thick and stifling, the hall too quiet save for an electric buzzing sound that made the hair on both brothers' necks stand on end. Mom and Dad were probably still up but the lights flickering from the living room didn't look like the blueish glow of the TV.

The boys froze in the doorway to the living room as they both tried to comprehend what they were seeing - it had to be a weird dream or nightmare. Their mother sat in the middle of the floor, looking terrified, surrounded by flashing red and yellow lights like some sort of weird tornado.

"Mom!" Barry blurted in a panic but Malcolm caught his arm before he could run towards her.

"Boys! Don't let him touch you!" Their mother screamed, barely audible under the sound of the crackling lightning and wind from whatever was violently spinning around her.

"Mom!" Malcolm was the one to yell this time, squeezing Barry's wrist almost too tightly in fear.

"Nora!" Their father was suddenly in front of them, pushing them back further, behind him.

"Stay back!" Nora screamed, barely audible over the racket surrounding her.

"Nora! Hold on!" Their father called before turning to Barry and Malcolm. "Run! Get somewhere safe!"

In almost the same second, Barry was gone from Malcolm's side. Another instant later, in a flash of red lightning, Malcolm found himself outside, lying in the grass, nowhere near his brother.

The pain didn't register right away as it often doesn't in situations like this. Confusion and fear spun in Malcolm’s head until he realized his chest ached and he couldn't breathe.

"Mom? Dad?" Barry's voice echoed in the dark street and Malcolm tried to call out to him but all he managed was a choking sound that he was sure nobody could hear at all. He rolled over to try and push himself up - blinding pain pierced his skull and shot up from his lower back before he lost consciousness.

"-looks like he got thrown out the window. Malcolm. Mal, can you hear me? Where's it hurt, kiddo?" Joe West's familiar voice cut through the darkness for a minute and Malcolm moaned in pain, blinking his eyes blearily before letting them fall closed again. "Dammit. How far away's the ambulance?"

A voice Malcolm didn't recognize answered but he couldn't focus on anything else until someone moved him and pain rocketed through his entire body.

"It's okay, it's okay. We're just loading you into the ambulance, try to relax." A calm woman's voice soothed. Malcolm knew it couldn't be his mom, didn't sound anything like her, but that didn't stop him from asking for her anyway as he drifted out of consciousness once more.

[vexicwrites]

Worship

Warnings: deification and religious themes

Thanks to @ftl-faster-than-life for inspiring this ficlet!

The word of the day on the kitschy calendar on the desk was 'worship'. Noun: from the Old English 'weorthscipe.' The feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity. Synonymous with veneration, reverence, or adoration.

How topical, Wells thought wryly, watching the object of his obsession flit out the door, no doubt late to something important. The boy could move faster than Hermes himself when motivated.

Barry Allen was no god.

Eobard tried to remind himself of this, tried to hold on to the loathing he had for the man and remind himself why he'd returned to the 21st century in the first place, but as he mentored Barry under the guise of Dr. Harrison Wells it was hard not to fall for him all over again. It was hard not to watch Barry's abilities grow and flourish, to watch him save life after life, to witness his drive and determination, without being reminded of his previous adorations. It was hard not to let the affection he'd once felt for his past self's mentor and friend take on a life of its own again, to let it rekindle the spark.

Barry was the only person Eobard had ever felt...well, anything for really. For so long, he'd seemed untouchable and unattainable - a god he could only pray to and hope he answered without ever knowing if he'd even heard. From a young age, Eobard had been Barry Allen's most loyal acolyte; hopelessly devoted before he'd ever met the man, and meeting him hadn't changed that, not initially. If anything, perhaps it had made his devotion stronger - now he could say his prayers to his god's face and Barry would answer immediately. It was everything he'd ever dreamed.

But now...now, something had changed. He didn't view Barry as his god anymore, not really. Eobard's powers were stronger, better, how could his god be weaker than him?

Maybe that was it. Eobard didn't have his powers in this century, not at this moment, not for the last 15 years. Yes, that had to be it, that had to be the reason - Eobard had simply forgotten what it was like to be so painfully weak and human and when Barry was honing his powers so rapidly it was hard not to think of him as something greater. He seemed god-like but it was all perspective, of course.

And yet, it was still hard to look at him and not feel...something. It wasn't a worshipful love anymore nor a quiet reverence, it was something more intense, more possessive - the need to protect Barry and make sure no harm ever came to him that wasn't of his own creation filled Eobard's very being. He knew, deep down, that it was more than mere obsession now.

Regardless of how much he tried to deny it, Eobard knew that Barry would always be his personal deity, no matter when or where he existed.

Barry was no god. But Eobard still loved him, nonetheless.

[negative-speedforce]

dark prompts! 2, 5, 7, 11, 16 and D, M, N, Q, R :)

Prompts 16 and R: Memory Loss & "I thought you already knew."

With: My OCs Liah and Marie

"How did we meet?" Marie asked.

"You don't remember?" Liah sat down, concern written on her face.

Marie shook her head. "When I was assimilated, the Collective optimized my memories, in a way of speaking. Clearing unimportant data, and such. I thought you already knew."

"Oh." Liah frowned. "It was my first day at the academy. You were trying to pass as Vulcan at that point, and wow, you were insufferable. Just so you know, you'd make a really terrible Vulcan."

"I'm aware." Marie nodded. "Continue."

"Anyway, I introduced myself, you told me your name was T'Marie, and I immediately called bullshit on that- sorry for saying shit."

Marie laughed. "You're an adult, you can swear. It's fine. Keep going."

"Anyway, you kept up the whole 'Vulcan' ruse, but I just wasn't buying it. Maybe it was how you were struggling to fly into a violent rage at the other cadets, maybe it was the way the corner of your mouth perked up and you snorted when Cadet Swan stepped in dog poop." Liah continued. "By the end of the day, I confronted you, and since you barely knew me and I tend to scare the living daylights out of people when they don't know me, you immediately spilled the beans."

"I told you everything outright?"

"Well, not everything, but you said that you were half-Romulan and that you didn't want people to be mean to you for that." Liah said. "I mean, I didn't know anything else about you for a while, other than the fact that you like listening to really loud Klingon acid metal and Ferengi death rock, and you had a tendency to dye a blue streak into your hair."

"Sounds about right." Marie said. "How did we become friends?"

"I don't remember, honestly. I think it just happened gradually, but that time we got stuck in the turbolift together for three hours definitely helped." Liah shrugged her shoulders. "Do you really not remember any of this?"

"Honestly? Not really." Marie replied. "It seems familiar, but I don't remember it. I doubt I ever will, either. Those memories were deemed redundant and deleted permanently."

"Oh." Liah frowned.

"Thanks for telling me though, anyway. Sorry I don't remember." Marie squeezed her girlfriend's shoulder as she moved to leave the room. "I appreciate it."

Liah managed a small smile. "No problem. If there's anything else you don't remember, just ask me, okay? Unless it's about that Ferengi who tried to turn me into his naked slave wife. That was embarrassing."

[practically-an-x-man]

i think just by statistics right now I have more Flash mutuals than any other fandom

which is especially funny bc I still haven't seen more than ~3 episodes of the Flash show

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

🐑Barry Allen needs a hug, smoking, possessive behavior, mood swings

This ended up being more of a ficlet than summary lmao sorry. Inspiration train hit. Fake fic ask game

Barry had a stalker. He’d known that for a while now but it appeared to be getting progressively worse as time went on.

It may have just been paranoia, but he could’ve sworn a figure appeared in the corner of his eye sometimes, and every time he looked back— it was gone. He’d shrugged it off at first, then the first note came. A little yellow card made from folded construction paper had been waiting on his desk. Intrigued, Barry had picked it up, notcing the faint smell of cigarettes. One word had been neatly written in large letters:

“Hi”

Since then, he’d been more cautious. Only using his speed after triple checking the surrounding area to ensure he was really alone. He should have told someone, the team, Joe— but he didn’t want them to worry. He was the Flash. He could handle this.

In the present, Barry was in an excellent mood. He’d just been on a date and it had gone very well. Humming to himself with a small stride in his step, he unlocked his apartment and entered. Nothing out of the ordinary. I’m just being paranoid. Why would there be anything unusual in his apartment? Nevertheless, a weird feeling crept in the corner of his mind. With a glance around, he flashed through the entire apartment, looking for something, anything wrong. He pursed his lips after coming up empty. I’m just being paranoid. The thought came a second too soon.

A little red card sat on the floor in front of him. His heart rate tripled as he bent down to pick it up. Why was he so scared? But when Barry opened it— that fear solidified with new meaning. The card fell back to the ground and he fumbled for the phone in his jacket with trembling hands. On the paper, in that same neat writing as before:

“No one else gets to have you. You’re mine, Flash ♡”

[shrinkthisviolet]

character bingo for Frost (canon), Morgan (yours), and Berrie (mine, but no pressure obvi lol) :)

Frost:

I am so very neutral about her tbh 😂 I get her appeal, I really do, and I love her in fanon/fics by some authors, but…idk. Canonically, I haven’t really liked her all that much past s3 (though she’s had some good moments now and then). Even in s3, although I loved her villainous arc, it didn’t really make much sense? Her origin was explained better in s5 thanks to the retcon, but…even then, why did she team up with Savitar? Why did she want to kill Iris so badly? Etc.

Which is mostly the fault of S3’s terrible writing…and the future seasons not really dealing with the consequences of what she did. Apologizing to Iris, for example—Iris seems a little nervous around her in s4, which suggests to me that they haven’t talked about it. Which sucks, because Iris deserved to be upset about s3! But no 💀 Iris is never allowed to process any of her trauma for more than two minutes at a time.

There are just too many unanswered questions that I just never felt like I really understood her character enough to feel any particular way about her. I totally get the appeal though, and I’ve read some great fics with/about her 💞

Morgan (my OC):

MORGAN MY SWEET BABY she deserves so much better fr 😭 especially in this next fic, and especially as we get to the midpoint and beyond.

Berrie (Vexic’s OC):

I feel so bad for them, someone please give her a hug 😭 all the hugs tbh

send me a character, and i’ll fill out the bingo!

[vexic929]

Aftermath

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: link

Warnings: suicidal ideation

Dépite. ひふんこうがい. Martirio.

It was honestly incredible how many words there were for how Hartley was feeling as he left S.T.A.R. Labs for the last time, escorted out by four burly security guards. (That was far too many in Hartley's opinion, probably more for spectacle than any fear on Harrison's part of what Hartley would do.) He didn't want to know what Ramon or Snow or Raymond thought, what lies Harrison would tell them about his abrupt firing. More than likely, he'd make up something about Hartley trying to sabotage their progress. Which was absurd, Hartley had been fiercely dedicated to the project, anyone could see that, but Ramon at least was probably foolish enough to buy it and Snow and Raymond loyal enough to go along with it.

"Get your fucking hands off of me." Hartley snarled as one of the security guards gripped his shoulder when they approached the door.

So much for keeping his cool. But what did it matter anyway, he wasn't coming back here, he didn't need to be professional. The guard merely tightened his grip, giving Hartley a warning glare. Hartley's heart raced with anger and frustration as he shrugged off the hand and stormed out the door.

It was uncharacteristically warm for Missouri in October but he still shivered as a cold sense of betrayal gnawed at his insides. He didn't have anywhere to go, not really. He could go back to the rundown apartment he rented, but what was the point? He felt like little more than a pawn in some twisted game, destined to be sacrificed in the first few moves.

Hartley walked aimlessly through the streets of Central City for what must have been hours. He felt like screaming, like pounding his fists against the pavement until they bled. But he knew it wouldn't change anything.

His mind kept replaying the confrontation over and over again without his permission, the look of smug satisfaction on Harrison's face as he delivered the final blow. So cold, so cruel, so unlike the warm, easy smiles he'd given Hartley on quiet evenings alone. God, he felt sick.

Why did this always happen? Every good thing in his life Hartley had to ruin by opening his damn mouth. He was the common denominator in all of it. It had been his decision to come out to his parents, his decision to go looking for trouble in the accelerator - if he'd just kept his head down, stayed in his place...well, it was too late for that.

It was only the knowledge that he needed to go home and take care of his rats that led him back to his apartment and not off the edge of the nearest bridge. Hamelin and Erdős greeted him as happily as ever when he opened their cage, oblivious to the self-loathing spiral in his head, scurrying up his arms and onto his shoulders to poke their noses into his cheek, begging for treats. Hartley made his way to the kitchen and pulled out the last of the baby carrots from the bag in the fridge, cutting it into small, round pieces.

As Hartley mechanically went through the motions of caring for his pets, his mind kept returning to the injustice of it all. His fury and frustration faded into a bone-deep weariness. He sank into a kitchen chair, his head in his hands, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him. Hamelin and Erdős paid him no mind, happily munching on carrot slices.

The ache consuming his soul was horribly familiar, his head spinning with a discordant cacophony of memories turned sour. There had to have been warning signs, red flags he'd missed. Harrison wasn't a monster, hadn't seemed so full of hubris that he'd risk the lives of his team and everyone in Central City. He'd been kind, charming...was it all a façade? He'd said he'd loved Hartley, had that just been another lie? Or had Hartley just fucked everything up as he was wont to do?

As Hartley sat there, lost in his thoughts, the despair suffocating, he felt another surge of anger rise within him. Anger at himself for being so blind, anger at Harrison for betraying him, anger at the world for being so cruel - but it left as quickly as it had come, leaving a hollow feeling in his chest. He choked on a sob, the tears hot and bitter, streaming down his cheeks unchecked. He didn't bother wiping them away as he buried his face in his hands, his body trembling as he finally allowed himself to completely break down. He couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that consumed him. He was alone now, truly alone once again, with no one to turn to and nowhere to go. He felt like the terrified, devastated 17-year-old again, not the capable adult he'd become.

Hartley let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and muffled against his palms. What was the point of being fluent in six languages if he couldn't even make himself heard? Harrison had silenced him as effectively as if he'd cut out his tongue and cut off his hands.

Hamelin and Erdős squeaked from the table, finally making Hartley look up again and wipe the tears off of his face. For a moment, Hartley envied them their simplicity. Their world consisted of food, shelter, and the occasional game of hide-and-seek in the maze he'd built for them. They didn't have to worry about betrayal or lies or the crushing weight of loneliness.

Hartley reached out and stroked Hamelin's fur gently, the repetitive motion soothing to his frazzled nerves and spiraling mind. Erdős squeaked again and squirmed his way under Hartley's hand, demanding attention as well.

Hartley's tears slowed, his breaths shaky but steadier now. He needed to pull himself together, for Hamelin and Erdős if nothing else. The thought of packing up and leaving Central City crossed his mind, of starting fresh somewhere far away from all the pain and betrayal, but he quickly dismissed it. Running away wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't make the hurt go away. Besides, Central City had been his home all his life. He couldn't - wouldn't - let Harrison fucking Wells drive him out of his own city.

With a deep breath, Hartley pushed himself up from the table and wiped his eyes once more, determined to regain some semblance of composure. His mind raced this time with possibilities; with plans for revenge, for redemption, for finding a new path forward. He wouldn't let Harrison win.

With renewed determination, Hartley set about cleaning up the kitchen, tidying his apartment, and making sure Hamelin and Erdős had everything they needed. As the evening wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the living room, Hartley found himself drifting towards his makeshift workbench in the corner. His fingers itched to tinker, to build, to create something new. To build something he could use. He put Hamelin and Erdős back in their cage and sat at the desk to begin sketching, fueled by his newfound loathing of the man he'd given everything to.

~~~~~

Dépite: French for an itching irritation or fury left by a bitter disappointment (such as being rejected by a lover)

ひふんこうがい (hifunkougai): Japanese for a righteous, miserable anger, frustration, or despair over a situation that cannot be changed

Martirio: Spanish for a situation so bad that you feel you must be sanctified after going through it

[vexic929]

Child in Time

Chapter 1

Warnings: implied child neglect, mentioned child death

By now, Barry Allen was fairly confident that nothing could surprise him anymore. He'd been through so many impossible things, done so many impossible things in just the last few months - he'd run faster than the speed of sound, fought multiple metas and supervillains and won - he couldn't fathom what was left that wouldn't feel like just another Tuesday at this point.

The familiar crackle of Speed Force lightning zipped behind him and Barry turned, startled and prepared for an attack, expecting the Man in Yellow. Instead, there was another crackle behind him as whatever it was left and his attention was immediately drawn to a baby carrier, securely placed away from the glass beakers and chemicals in his lab. He approached slowly, cautiously, his brow furrowing. The blanket overtop shifted and Barry flinched before shaking his head at his stupid reaction. It was a baby carrier, not a bomb...at least he was pretty sure.

The blanket moved again, this time distinctly as though something very small had hit it from the inside, and it drew Barry's attention to a piece of folded paper pinned to the top. 'Barry' was scrawled across the front in his own handwriting. Thinking about how bizarre this already was, Barry carefully removed and unfolded it.

I'm sorry I can't explain more. This is Eo, he's 8 months old. You and Iris need to keep him safe. Thanks, Barry

Barry's hands were trembling as he tugged the blanket off, filled with apprehension.

Inside the carrier, chewing on a teething toy shaped like a storm cloud, was a tiny, pale infant with wide blue eyes and the softest wisps of strawberry blond hair, dressed in a light blue onesie. Barry thought he looked like the most stereotypical baby he'd ever seen, like a Gerber baby with his chubby cheeks and long eyelashes. He reached into the carrier and gingerly picked up the little boy who immediately dropped the toy and reached back in the carrier with a distressed sound. His chubby fingers groped at nothing while his little lip wobbled.

"Oh no, don't cry, please don't- oh," Barry said letting out a relieved breath as he reached into the carrier and picked up a small teddy-bear dressed in a Flash costume. "Is this what you want?" He handed the stuffed toy over and the baby cooed and gurgled happily, nuzzling into its fur.

Barry's mind was racing. Who was this baby? Where had he come from? Where were his parents? Why had he brought him…here? In the past? From the future? God, he really needed to get better at explaining things to himself. He had a feeling Dr. Wells was going to kill future him for this.

On top of all the questions, Barry definitely wasn't ready to be a parent - he and Linda had barely started dating and he was only 24, he hardly felt like an adult himself. But the baby was here, now, and he needed someone to take care of him, to protect him from...something. Apparently that someone was him.

Well, not just him. 'You and Iris' the note had said, also. He definitely couldn't put this on Iris, she and Eddie had only just moved in together. He chewed his lip, looking down at the baby again before making up his mind, cradling the infant more securely to his chest, and speeding out of the lab.

The baby chewed on the bear's ear, wide blue eyes tracking everything he could see as Barry arrived in the cortex. Cisco, who had been making his way across the room, paused and pulled the lollipop from between his lips, using it to point at the infant, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Um, what's that?" He asked. Eo squeaked helpfully in response, tiny feet kicking at the air.

Barry shifted his grip to hold the baby more securely. "Guys, I think we have a problem."

Dr. Wells' keen blue eyes flickered between Barry, Eo, and the bear plush for a moment, seeming to need that moment to process what he was seeing. Barry couldn't really blame him, he hadn't been expecting to have an infant in S.T.A.R. Labs either. After a beat, he wheeled forward and offered his arms to take the baby. Barry handed him off gratefully.

"Indeed. Who is this, Mr. Allen? Where did he come from?" He asked as the baby settled against his shoulder, babbling in his ear and waving his pudgy fist in the air, the bear swinging and nearly knocking off Dr. Wells' glasses. Dr. Wells removed them and set them out of the baby's reach.

Barry shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure. I guess I - future me, I mean? - brought him back to me - past me. I-I guess he's not safe wherever - whenever - he's from and I thought that I could take him here?"

"Did you just say future you? As in you time traveled?" Cisco asked, looking torn between surprise and excitement at the prospect. "Bro, that's sick!"

Eo babbled loudly as though agreeing. Barry gave another helpless shrug and Caitlin finally set down her work to cross the room and examine the infant.

"He certainly doesn't look related to you, Barry, he shares none of your characteristics - of course, he could be adopted," she added as the baby reached for her.

"Yeah, I dunno. I left myself a note but all it said was he's in danger, he's 8 months old, and his initials." And that he and Iris should take care of him, but he wasn't about to bring that up.

Caitlin hummed. "He looks as though he's hit the growth milestones you'd expect for 8 months. I'd need to give him a proper exam to know for sure."

"He's kinda creepy," Cisco commented. "Like that creepy Twilight robo baby, Chuckesmee. Uncanny Valley, demon baby creepy."

"Cisco." Caitlin chided, giving him an exasperated look.

"What? You can't tell me he's not creepy, look at him!" Cisco insisted, gesturing towards him.

"What are his initials?" Dr. Wells asked curiously.

"E-O," Barry answered, watching as Caitlin took the baby and bounced him lightly. Eo cooed, pulling at a button on her blouse.

"Well, I suppose we should keep an eye on 'Eo' for the time being and hope your future self returns for him sooner rather than later." Dr. Wells said finally, replacing his glasses.

"I'm going to give him an exam, make sure he's healthy. Barry, why don't you go get some baby supplies; bottles, formula, baby food, bibs, diapers, onesies, teething rings, pacifiers," Caitlin listed off, adjusting Eo to her other arm and carrying him to the med bay.

Barry was back with the requested supplies before Caitlin had even set Eo down. The tiny boy immediately pulled her stethoscope into his mouth as soon as it she brought it close, wide blue eyes watching her inquisitively.

"Cisco, can you come distract him while I examine him?" Caitlin asked as she tried to pull the stethoscope away gently so she could press it to his chest and he grabbed a tiny fistful of her hair instead.

Cisco made his way into the room and Barry made to follow but Dr. Wells stopped him. "Barry, a word?"

Barry turned, surprised by the seriousness in Dr. Wells' tone. "Yeah, sure," he replied, following the older man to a the hall.

Dr. Wells folded his hands together, his expression grave. "Barry, I understand your impulse to take responsibility for this child, but this isn't just a matter of caring for a baby. We have no idea what his presence here could change, what potentially has already changed."

Barry nodded, running his fingers over his mouth anxiously. "I know. But I can't exactly take him back, I mean, I don't even know when he's from even if I could. I didn't even know time traveling was a possibility until like 20 minutes ago. And if future me thought it was important enough to bring him here, then I have to believe there's a good reason for it."

"I understand your concern and I'm sure that your future self had good intentions but our main priority should be returning him to his time." Dr. Wells sighed heavily and removed his glasses. "I must not be present in that future because otherwise I most certainly would have told you that this was a terrible, stupid, dangerous idea. The ramifications of the action of bringing him here alone are entirely unpredictable, much less keeping him here for an extended period of time. We need to focus our energies on getting him back home and minimizing the damage, you especially need to focus on that. Until we can return him, I think it best if he stays with me so you don't risk becoming attached."

"Dr. Wells-" Barry started but Dr. Wells lifted a hand to silence him.

"He'll be in good hands, Barry, you don't need to worry. I have experience in the area - I had a daughter, Jesse, and while her mother certainly did more than her fair share of the work, I'm more than capable of caring for an infant." Dr. Wells assured him.

The past tense 'had' made Barry's heart clench and before he could stop himself he asked, "what happened to her?"

Dr. Wells' expression softened. "Jesse passed away when she was still a young child. The car accident that took my wife took her as well, much too soon. She was three."

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Wells. I had no idea."

Dr. Wells waved off Barry's condolences. "I'm not telling you this to garner sympathy, Barry, just to reassure you that he'll be well cared for."

Barry shifted foot to foot, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he knew Dr. Wells was right. This was probably the safest option for the baby. But on the other, he couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility, that this child had been left with him for a reason.

"I...Dr. Wells, I know you'd probably - definitely - be the better option but I feel like there's a reason I brought him to myself. I promise I'll come to you with any questions I have but I think I should be the one to take care of him, at least for now. I mean who knows what he's even in danger from, whatever it is could hurt you and him both," Barry said finally.

Dr. Wells regarded Barry for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh and nodded. "Very well, Barry, if you insist."

Barry nodded and returned to the cortex after a moment, feeling strangely guilty. Cisco and Caitlin had Eo on the floor between them, lying on his stomach on a S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt to prevent him from making contact with the cold, hard metal flooring. Caitlin pursed her lips as the infant shuffled his feet and waved his tiny arms, seemingly unable to get them underneath himself.

"How is he?" Barry asked, coming to sit between them, next to Eo. Eo rolled onto his side and watched Barry, tugging the sleeve of the sweatshirt up and into his mouth.

"Healthy, for the most part, but he seems...pretty delayed developmentally," Caitlin said with a heavy sigh. "It's hard to tell for certain; infants can't exactly say what they're capable of, but usually if you put them on their stomachs and they're able to crawl then they will do so or at least start to. At this point he should be trying to stand but he won't even army crawl."

Barry's heart sank at Caitlin's words. He looked down at Eo, who was happily chewing on the sleeve of the sweatshirt, oblivious to the conversation happening around him. The weight of responsibility settled heavier on Barry's shoulders.

"Do you think there's something wrong with him?" He asked, fearing the answer.

Caitlin shrugged. "I'm not a pediatrician. I know what milestones he's supposed to have hit at this stage and he seems to be missing a few but I couldn't tell you if they're significant enough to warrant concern."

Barry's mind raced as he processed Caitlin's words. He felt a surge of protectiveness towards Eo, mixed with a deep sense of worry. What if something was seriously wrong with him? What if Barry wasn't equipped to handle it?

"I could run some blood work on him," Caitlin offered after a moment. "I think he's otherwise fairly healthy. He's a good length and weight, his vision is fine, he tracks pretty much everything, and responds to auditory stimulus."

Barry nodded, feeling a mix of relief and dread at the prospect of finding out more about Eo's condition. "Yeah, let's do it. I want to make sure he's okay."

[vexicwrites]

Worry

warnings: canon-typical blood and injury

Tim grunted as he woke to a stinging pain in his arm and a slightly duller one in his stomach. He didn't know why it hurt, just that it did, and tried to pull away.

"Don't." Bernard's gentle voice roused him further and he finally registered his boyfriend's fingers holding his wrist and the feel of a cold cotton swab slipping up his arm. Oh. He was probably hurt then. Why couldn't he remember last night?

"S'appening?" Tim slurred, forcing an eye open to look up at Bernard. The older man's brow was creased in worry and Tim wanted to kiss the frown right off of his face.

Bernard took a shaky breath and turned his attention back to cleaning Tim's wounds. "You came home around half an hour ago, bleeding out and unable to speak. I was able to stop the bleeding for the most part but we need to get you real medical attention as soon as possible."

"Oh, baby," Tim said, reaching up to stroke Bernard's cheek clumsily. "M'sorry, you must've been so worried."

Bernard let out a watery chuckle. "I was certainly anxious." Distraught, more like, Tim thought.

"H'bad is it? Can you sitch- stick- dammit. Stitch. It."

Bernard shook his head. "I've got the wound on your stomach packed and as soon as I've got pressure applied to this one I'm taking you to S.T.A.R. Labs." He replied, picking up the gauze and beginning to wrap Tim's forearm.

Tim finally turned his attention to his arm and his stomach dropped. It looked like Killer Croc himself had tried to chew the entire thing off. He swallowed as he clenched and unclenched his hand, grateful that it seemed to still be attached. Thank god.

"I don't think it's as bad as it looks." Bernard said quietly, moving his hand from Tim's wrist to lace their fingers together and stroke his thumb across the back of Tim's knuckles. "Most of it appears superficial. It'll scar but I don't think you're going to lose your arm or anything."

Tim shot him a tiny, grateful smile and Bernard leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead before taping down the end of the gauze tightly and wrapping an arm around Tim's shoulders to help him up.

"Do you think you can stand? You lost a lot of blood, I don't want you passing out on me again."

Tim nodded and allowed Bernard to help him to his feet, dizziness and nausea rolling through him. He took a deep breath and smiled at his boyfriend reassuringly. "I'm ok; just a little woozy."

Bernard looked him up and down with a small frown and moved his arm to Tim's waist to hold him a little more securely. Tim took a step forward and his vision dimmed suddenly, his knees giving out as he rapidly approached unconsciousness but never quite reached it.

"Oh, god, Tim-"

He knew Bernard was stronger than he looked but it was still slightly surprising and very hot when the older man caught him and scooped him up bridal style near effortlessly. Tim let his head drop onto Bernard's shoulder and enjoyed the feel of his man's strong arms around him, feeling light-headed and delirious.

"So sexy, baby." Tim slurred, nuzzling Bernard's collarbone and making a disappointed noise when he was set in the front seat of Bernard's tiny blue electric Mitsubishi.

"Is now really the best time for flirting?" Bernard muttered, fastening Tim's seatbelt gently.

Tim tipped his head back and shot him a little grin, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. "Can'help it. I have the bes'boyfriend. You'worth it, baby."

Bernard huffed a laugh and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before shutting the door and running around to the driver's side. He slid in and buckled up with an amused look on his face before pulling out smoothly and joining the early morning traffic towards S.T.A.R. Labs.

"We'll get you patched up soon, I promise." He said, reaching over to take Tim's hand. "Just stay awake until we get to the lab. Tell me about your night, what do you remember before...whatever the hell happened?"

Tim smiled a little and tried to remember, starting to drift in and out of wakefulness and desperately fighting it, not wanting to worry Bernard further. "Not much. Had to meet up with...with Jason early on. Don'remember why but we split up after and I...think it was somethin'bout stopping a trafficking ring." Tim mumbled, struggling to concentrate.

Bernard squeezed his hand. "That's okay, how about we talk about something easier to focus on? ...Tim?"

Tim grunted in response and let his head fall back against the headrest, feeling Bernard increase their speed a little.

"Tim, sweetheart, stay awake for me. Please." Bernard's voice was filled with worry and Tim fought hard to stay conscious, trying to focus on the beat of his heart and the hand in his own.

"I'm...'m still here, baby." He slurred softly, his eyelids drifting closed.

Bernard cursed softly just before Tim lost consciousness again.

Tim woke again feeling floaty and disoriented, an IV drip filled with morphine in his left hand, his right arm entirely numb. He forced his eyes open and felt his heart squeeze almost painfully when he saw Bernard there, dozing lightly in a chair next to him in the most awkwardly uncomfortable position.

"Baby...?" Tim muttered, his throat dry and painful.

Bernard blinked awake and rubbed the back of his neck to get the kinks out. He smiled tiredly when he saw Tim was conscious and moved closer, shifting the chair so that it was next to the bed.

"Hey. You're awake." He said softly, brushing a stray hair back from Tim's forehead and pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. "You had me worried for a while there."

Tim smiled a little and tipped his head back to give Bernard access to his lips which Bernard gladly accepted.

"M'sorry, baby." Tim said once the kiss had ended, Bernard resting his forehead against Tim's own.

"It's okay, you don't have anything to apologize for." Bernard replied, something in his voice making Tim think he may have been thinking that this would be the last time he'd see him alive. Tim reached up with his good hand to cup Bernard's cheek, pushing the thought away before it could take root.

"M'okay now. It's okay." He said softly, trying to reassure the older man. "Promise I won't make you worry like that again."

Bernard chuckled and pressed a tired but fond kiss to Tim's lips. "You will, because I'll always worry about you, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

[vexicwrites]

factum fieri infectum non potest

Warnings: none

"You never loved me."

Hartley's voice was quieter than it had been but no less harsh as he glared at the older man through the glass. He knew it was well after hours - that was the only time Harrison bothered to come speak to him, when he could shut off the security cameras and talk openly without worrying about his team hearing their conversations. So Hartley didn't feel it necessary to hide his emotions either. The man had seen him naked, after all, it was hard to get more vulnerable.

"No. I didn't."

Hartley had expected some more bullshit lies about how he had loved Hartley, would always love Hartley, or something similar. The blunt statement hit him like a physical punch and he looked away, fighting the lump that formed in his throat. He'd cried enough over this man, he definitely didn't want to cry in front of him. He let out a forced, miserable, pained laugh.

"So, what, I was just...just stress relief? An easy fuck?"

"Yes."

Hartley felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. God, it hurt. The rejection, the cruel dismissal, it hurt so damn much. He knew it was true, but he'd still thought…he'd thought maybe there had been something real between them. That Harrison cared about him, even just a little. But of course that was too much to ask for, far too much to hope for.

"Hartley." God, that condescending tone was grating. "Does that really upset you? You knew it wasn't anything more. I cared about you, as one of my best employees. You were my guy. Not my partner."

"Who's your 'guy' now? Ramon?" Hartley spat, trying to override the overwhelming grief with venom and anger. It didn't quite work, his voice shook and his hands were trembling, but at least the tears stayed back.

Harrison removed his glasses, completely unbothered. "I'm not sure what you want me to say. I got what I needed and now we're done."

Another knife straight to the heart, Hartley wasn't sure how much more he could take. But he managed to not crumble right then and there, breathing through the pain.

"Does your pet Flash know this side of you?" Hartley sneered, his tone bitter. "How long until he figures out who you really are now that he knows I warned you about the accelerator?"

Harrison's face hardened a bit, the first sign of real emotion he'd seen from the man...maybe ever. But the flicker of emotion was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit. I made a horrible mistake but Barry will see that it was just that - a mistake."

Hartley tsked. "Factum fieri infectum non potest."

"Indeed." Harrison replied, turning away from him. "Goodnight, Hartley."

The moment the door to the pipeline closed, Hartley fell back against the wall of his cell and slumped to the ground, feeling broken and empty as he choked on a sob. Harrison Wells had taken everything from him - his future, his career, his heart - and for what? Nothing. Harrison had given him nothing. He was nothing to Harrison.

-----

translation:

Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit. No man is wise at all times.

Factum fieri infectum non potest. It is impossible for a deed to be undone.

[vexic929]

Lavender Lightning

Chapter 2

Warnings: self-destructive behavior

Chapter 1: link

"He's the cause of all this!" Barry shouted, angry and in disbelief at what he was hearing. Joe couldn't actually be considering letting Harrison Wells take Iris to S.T.A.R. Labs instead of leaving her with legitimate medical doctors. "If his accelerator hadn't caused that freak storm, Iris wouldn't...Iris would be..." Barry's voice broke, his eyes wet with tears as he collapsed heavily onto one of the uncomfortable maroon chairs in the hospital hall.

"Barry, I know you're upset and believe me, I am too, that man did a lot of harm, but you're looking for someone to blame," Joe said, sitting next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Barry set his jaw and looked away, feeling like he was being scolded. "Of course you don't believe me."

"Barr, listen to me. Wells' machine did not cause that storm. Now, he caused a lot of other problems but he sounds like he has a solution for Iris and I'm gonna hear him out. You can come with me or not, that's up to you. But I'm gonna do what I think is best for Iris." Joe pat Barry's shoulder once before standing and draping his coat over his arm.

"I want what's best for Iris too. I just don't think Dr. Wells is it, Joe. I really don't." Barry said quietly as Joe walked away.

Barry had hardly eaten since Iris had been admitted to the hospital, feeling like all he wanted to do was run a million miles an hour until he burned into nothing or just crawl into bed and sleep until Iris woke up again. He couldn't stomach the thought of losing her, he didn't know what to do without his best friend by his side. Barry let out a heavy sigh and took off his glasses - spares, he hadn't had time to get his old ones fixed or replaced with everything that had happened - before scrubbing his face with his hands as though that could make the mounting anxiety leave.

Barry's stomach growled and as if in cue, a Big Belly Burger bag was in front of his face. He followed the arm holding it up to see Eddie and forced a smile. They hardly knew each other, but still, Eddie had been there consistently from the moment Iris had been hurt. It was nice. He was nice.

"Hey. I thought you guys might be getting hungry. Where's Joe?" Eddie's voice was warm as he took the seat next to Barry.

Barry pressed his lips into a firm line and leaned back, replacing his glasses and accepting the burger and fries from the older man. "Harrison Wells wants to take Iris to S.T.A.R. Labs. Joe's talking to him."

Eddie surveyed him with a raised eyebrow as Barry took a bite of fry. "You sound like you don't like that idea."

Barry huffed out a bitter laugh. "I would've about a month ago. I don't trust him to fix anything after that disaster." He spat with more venom than was probably necessary.

It really wasn't about the accelerator - mistakes were common in science, he knew that, and catastrophic at the best of times even with every variable accounted for - he couldn't blame Dr. Wells for that. He was certain, though, that if it hadn't happened that night, Iris wouldn't have been struck by lightning. Hell, if he hadn't insisted Iris come with him to see it launch, she wouldn't have gotten her bag stolen, he wouldn't have gotten his ass kicked, and she wouldn't have even been in his lab that night.

"Barry?"

Barry blinked, uncertain how long he'd been staring at the burger in his hand for in complete silence. "Sorry. S.TA.R. Labs isn't a hospital, Iris should be here."

Eddie took a fry and chewed it slowly as he contemplated his words. "There are a couple of doctors who have a medical or bio background on S.T.A.R. Labs' staff, at least there were when I checked the records while processing the scene. If they're still employed there, she'll be in good hands," he offered.

Barry hummed noncommittally and set the burger aside, his stomach twisting in more knots the more he thought about it. "I think I'm going to walk around for a while, I've been sitting for too long. Thanks for the food." He tried to force another smile but it felt awkward and he immediately dropped it again and averted his gaze.

"Do you want me to-"

"No." Barry interrupted loudly before lowering his tone, color flooding his cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't mean...I...I'd just rather be alone right now." He said, pushing himself up and walking aimlessly down the hallway in the opposite direction Joe had gone, trying not to look back at Eddie and see how hurt he probably was. He was so kind, he didn't deserve Barry biting his head off every few seconds.

He couldn't seem to do anything but lash out at everyone lately. There was this overwhelming itch at the back of his mind that told him he should be doing something; there had to be something more than just sitting in a hospital waiting for news. Aiming his vitriol at Harrison Wells eased the ache somewhat, but it was still there, still a constant presence that had him feeling more and more on edge, almost like the lightning that had hit Iris was coursing through him, trapped in his skin.

He didn't realize he'd left the hospital until the frozen night air hit his lungs and made him cough, his chest aching. He didn't have an inhaler on him, he should get inside. But what was the point of that? He couldn't help Iris regardless. Whether he had an asthma attack or not wouldn't make a difference, all it would do was solidify how fucking useless he felt. At this point, the only person who could make this all better was lying in a hospital bed comatose. There was nothing he could do to change that.

He sank heavily onto a bench beside the hospital, gripping his chest and trying to stall a panic attack before it could take hold. Iris had flatlined three more times today, once just before Dr. Wells had arrived to make his proposal, and Barry couldn't help but wonder every time if he would have to say goodbye. How many more times could they stabilize her? He felt like he was drowning, his lungs filled with solid ice.

Warm hands gripped his shoulders and gently guided him up and back inside.

"What the hell are you doing, Barr?" Joe demanded, fishing a spare inhaler out of his coat pocket and pushing it into Barry's hands before removing said coat and draping it around Barry's shoulders. "You're not helping Iris by freezing to death out here."

Barry took a couple of grateful puffs of medication from the inhaler before trying to speak. "Didn't know- it was- so c-cold-" he managed.

"Bet you know now." Joe commented dryly but not unkindly. "Come on."

Barry allowed Joe to usher him through the hall and into the elevator up to Iris's floor.

"We're getting her things, they're moving her to S.T.A.R. Labs." Joe informed him as they walked.

Barry's pace faltered and he nearly tripped on air. "I thought we were going to talk about it."

"We did. You made your opinion clear. I made mine. The doctors have cleared her to be moved and are willing to trust Dr. Wells with this and so am I. Unless you have a better argument, this isn't open for discussion anymore," Joe said firmly.

Frustration and anger flooded his system and he bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep from saying anything he'd regret. He'd never forgive himself if he destroyed his relationship with Joe, especially not if Iris…

Barry sighed tiredly, the anger draining out of his system as quickly as it came. "Fine."

Joe tugged him into a hug and kissed the top of his head, crushing Barry's glasses into the side of his face. "It'll be okay, Barr. We'll be okay...whatever happens." He promised and Barry felt his grip on him tighten for a split second before he let go.

[vexic929]

Born to Run

Chapter 1

Warnings: blood, internal organs not inside the body, implied SA of a minor

OC info: link

Chapter 2: link

Blood doesn't sparkle in the setting sun the way water does - it shines, wet and dark, and stains everything it touches leaving behind red-orange blotches that never seem to quite go away even after a deep clean.

"I...oh-oh my god-" Berrie couldn't breathe. The blood felt scalding as it ran down her trembling forearm, soaking into her rolled up sleeve at the elbow. God, there was so much blood. "W-why did I...I..."

Berrie dropped the heart suddenly as though it had burned her and it landed with a sickening squelch on the linoleum as the blind range shifted into horror at what she'd done.

"No. Nonononono- what did I-I didn't mean to- oh god-" Berrie stepped backwards, her pristine white sneakers nearly slipping in the rapidly forming pool of blood. The metallic scent was overwhelming, making her stomach churn and she covered her nose and mouth with her clean hand.

She'd killed him. She'd killed her chemistry teacher, Mr. Abbott, the one who always made corny science jokes, the one who everyone liked. The one who had tried to assault Shun when he was alone in his classroom for detention after school. So...so then it was fine, right? Berrie had just been protecting Shun.

But even as she tried to rationalize it, her mind was racing. She'd never meant to do this. She didn't know how it happened. She just remembered feeling a sudden moment of blinding rage and then...then the heart was in her hand. And Mr. Abbott was on the floor. Dead.

A locker clanged outside the classroom and Berrie jumped before taking off in a flash of orange. She needed to get home. She needed to...to...she wasn't sure. Her dad would know what to do. He always did. She skidded to a stop in the hallway of her home, near hyperventilating.

"Berrie? You're home late-" Eobard entered the hall as well and paused, taking in his daughter's appearance before crossing to her and taking her arm, gently leading her to the kitchen. "Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt?"

"No, I...it's not-not mine. I..." Berrie struggled to put her thoughts into words as she processed what had just happened.

"Did anyone see you?" He asked, still inexplicably calm as he wiped her arm clean. How was he so calm? He should be freaking out. He should be angry or-or worried or something right?

Berrie shook her head, feeling like she might be sick.

"Good. I'll clean things up and then we'll deal with the rest." Eobard said before dropping the rag in the sink and running off in a flash of red lightning.

Berrie stared at the blood-soaked rag in the sink without really seeing it, her mind racing. She couldn't seem to contain her panic, it felt like it was suffocating her, desperate to be released; she couldn't stay here, she needed to go somewhere, do something. She needed to leave. She needed to run. So, Berrie ran.

She gathered all of her speed, pushing herself faster and faster until the world around her started to morph. Colors blurred together, buildings shifted and changed, street sounds mingled in her ears. She ran faster than she ever had before, orange lightning flashing around her, pushing past all the limits she had until suddenly in a flash of light she was careening into a dumpster as her speed cut out without warning.

[vexicwrites]

Red Wine

Warnings: none

"Tim, you don't have to carry me." Bernard protested for the umpteenth time as Tim fumbled for the keys to their apartment, refusing to put the taller man down. "My ankle is sprained, not broken."

"Humor me, baby, you twisted it because I threw you off." Tim said, unlocking the door finally and pushing it open before shifting his hold on Bernard to a more stable one.

"You were supposed to throw me off, we were sparring." Bernard reminded him. "That's the point. If we didn't throw each other off we might as well be doing a choreographed dance. Besides, I'm the idiot who miscalculated the step and stepped on the damn deadlift bar."

"It was my bad too, I didn't realize we were getting so close to the weight rack." Tim said, setting Bernard down on the couch carefully and propping his swollen ankle up with one of the throw pillows. "I'm gonna get you an ice pack and some ibuprofen, okay? Is that elevated enough?"

"It's fine." Bernard responded, leaning forward and untying his shoes. Tim didn't miss the wince when Bernard tried to tug his left sneaker off.

"Easy there, I got it." Tim said, kneeling and taking the shoe off Bernard's foot. He tossed it by the couch and began palpating the lanky man's ankle gently. "Baby, I'm not convinced this isn't broken."

"It's fi- ow!" Bernard yelped as Tim prodded his achilles.

"Shit, sorry. This is definitely worse than just a sprain. We should get you to the hospital." Tim said with a frown. Bernard waved off his concern.

"It's not an emergency. We'll ice it tonight and I'll have someone look at it at the lab in the morning."

Tim sighed. "Are you sure? I don't want you to make this worse by waiting-"

"I'm sure. If you really want to help you could make dinner after you've gotten the ice." Bernard suggested.

"You got it, baby." Tim said with a smile. "Italian and some wine?"

"Please." Bernard nodded, leaning back against the couch cushions and closing his eyes with a sigh. He smiled when he felt Tim's lips press against his own. "I love you. You're too good to me."

"I love you too. Wine and an ice pack coming right up." Tim promised before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Cabernet Sauvignon is in the-"

"Already got it." Tim called back with a laugh.

He reappeared shortly after with a cold compress and a glass of chilled wine. He carefully draped the pack across Bernard's ankle and handed him the glass.

"Don't get too wine-drunk tonight." He teased.

"You're the one controlling the bottle, Mr. Drake." Bernard countered good-naturedly. "Besides, you usually like it when I get wine-drunk."

"Because you get handsy and cuddly." Tim said with more than a hint of fondness. "It's cute, but I don't want to take advantage of an injured man."

"It's just my ankle, Tim. Take all the advantage you like." Bernard said, taking a sip. Tim ducked his head, cheeks coloring as he retreated to get to work in the kitchen.

An hour later they were both comfortably full of garlic penne and red wine, laughing their way through the movie they'd picked out for the night. Despite the teasing from earlier, Bernard had indeed gotten quite drunk and was now laying his head in Tim's lap, his swollen ankle propped up on the back of the sofa as he sprawled out.

"We should get married." Bernard slurred as the main characters of the romcom finally said their vows.

"Baby, are you proposing to me while drunk?" Tim asked with a soft laugh.

Bernard hummed thoughtfully. "Don'have a ring. Sorry."

"That's okay. We should probably wait until you're sober to get engaged anyway." Tim said with a grin, combing his fingers through Bernard's short hair.

"I thought you wanted me to be more spontaneous." Bernard teased, reaching up to take Tim's hand in his own and rest them both over his heart.

"Well, yeah, but I get the feeling sober-you would be pissed he missed out on such a big moment." Tim replied fondly.

Bernard hummed again. "I suppose so. Still, Mr. Timothy Fitzmartin has a nice ring to it."

"Maybe I want to hyphenate." Tim teased.

"Hm...Drake-Fitzmartin also sounds ni - ice." Bernard said, yawning on the last word.

"Go to sleep, baby. We'll talk about it when you're sober."

[vexic929]

Aftermath

Chapter 2

Chapter 1: link

Warnings: vomiting

~December~

Hartley took apart his hearing aids with practiced ease. He'd had to repair them more and more often - he'd been hoping to use the money from his next two paychecks to buy new ones but that had been before his unceremonious termination. As it was, he was barely able to keep Hamelin and Erdős and his landlord happy with the money he had left. He'd even considered selling his flute, the only thing he'd managed to keep after being kicked out of his parents' home, but he really didn't feel as though he could bear to part with it, not yet anyway.

Hamelin and Erdős were playing happily in their maze next to his television set which was showing live coverage of the particle accelerator launch. Perhaps it was masochism that compelled Hartley to leave it on or maybe it was only morbid curiosity. He didn't want it to fail, of course. As loathed as he was to be wrong, he'd much prefer it if he was and lives were spared, and a part of him did still trust Harrison's skills - he just feared the man's ego may have gotten in the way. Regardless, he was only half paying attention. He couldn't hear it with his hearing aids removed and it was only visible from the corner of his eye whenever he bothered to glance up. That was probably why he'd missed the moment it all went wrong.

A flash of light outside his window just as he replaced his hearing aids alerted him to the explosion at S.T.A.R. Labs only blocks away but he didn't have time to react as an intense, painful pressure hit his inner ears, followed by the loudest ringing he'd ever heard. He yelped, doubling over in pain and yanking his hearing aids out, assuming he must have done something wrong...but the sound didn't stop. In fact, none of the sounds stopped.

Hamelin and Erdős squeaked loudly in distress, his television still blared the news coverage, the reporter's voice mixing into a discordant mush of syllables with his neighbors' across the hall. Sirens blared on the street below, thunder cracked all around the city, and...and he could hear the distinct, recognizable sound of the alarms at S.T.A.R. Labs coming not from the TV but the building itself. He wanted to focus on that, to focus on anything really, but the pain kept him disoriented and immobile in his chair. What the hell was happening?

Hartley's heart pounded against his ribcage, each beat echoing loudly in his ears, adding to the chaos of sounds assaulting him. He struggled to make sense of the overwhelming auditory onslaught, his mind racing as he fought to regain control. Slowly, shakily, he forced himself to his feet and slammed the TV off, bracing himself on the table next to Hamelin and Erdős's cage.

He'd hardly ever craved silence before - it had never been something he'd needed to worry about, having hearing aids meant he could turn the sounds of the world off at will if he needed to. But now, silence seemed like the most precious thing in the world, something he desperately yearned for amidst the deafening commotion assaulting his senses. It was almost amusingly ironic.

Hamelin and Erdős stuck their noses out of the top of the maze, squeaking incessantly. Hartley wanted to comfort them but he couldn't seem to do anything but grit his teeth and lift his trembling hands to cover his ears, trying in vain to silence the din from the world around him for even a moment. He could still hear the distant rumble of the explosion's aftermath, a constant thrumming beneath the cacophony.

Hartley took several deep breaths before finally lowering his hands to help his pets out of the maze, trying to ignore the piercing ringing in his ears and clamor of the streets below. The rats immediately crawled up his arms and dove for his shirt pocket, their tiny bodies trembling as they huddled as deep as they could go. Was this some sort of side effect of being in such close proximity to the particle accelerator? He didn't know, didn't have any answers, couldn't come up with a damn thing past the noise assaulting his senses.

The chaos outside seemed to grow louder with each passing moment, the wail of sirens and distant shouts blending into a symphony of panic and confusion. Hartley's head throbbed with the intensity of it all, his heart racing as he struggled to maintain his composure. He needed to think, to figure out what was happening and what he needed to do to survive. An ambulance passed beneath his window and the pain accompanying the siren made him collapse hard to his knees and vomit, heaving until there was nothing left in his stomach, stars bursting behind his eyes.

With trembling hands, he wiped his mouth and pushed himself to his feet again, reaching for his discarded hearing aids, hoping to somehow mitigate the overwhelming sounds. He could - fuck, it was so loud - maybe he could alter them, make them cancel out the noise instead of enhance it. He scrambled back to his workbench and fell heavily into the chair, his fingers fumbling for his tools, feeling almost as though the sensory overload was rendering him blind, overriding his other senses.

With a desperate sense of urgency, Hartley began to dismantle his hearing aids once more, his hands moving in a blur as he worked to modify them to counteract the deafening roar assaulting his ears. The pain was excruciating, threatening to overwhelm him again at any moment, but he grit his teeth and pushed through it.

Hours passed in a blur of frantic tinkering, sirens and thunder and the crackle of fire from S.T.A.R. Labs somehow reaching his ears, melding with the occasional squeak from Hamelin and Erdős still nestled in his shirt pocket. Hartley lost all track of time as he worked tirelessly, sporadically overwhelmed by another wave of nausea, his mind consumed by the singular goal of finding relief from the unbearable noise that surrounded him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hartley held his modified hearing aids in his shaking fingers, his heart pounding with anticipation. With an unsteady breath, he inserted them into his ears and activated them, counting the seconds as he waited for the moment of truth.

And then, miraculously, blessedly, the noise began to fade away. It wasn't perfect but the sounds were now...bearable, at least. He sagged in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. Relief flooded through him, mingling with the residual fear and confusion still swirling in his mind. He took a few deep breaths, savoring the newfound calm that enveloped him like the final notes of a sonata. He glanced down at Hamelin and Erdős who peeked out from his shirt pocket, their beady eyes watching him closely.

"Looks like I was right." Hartley murmured. The rats chirped in response, their small bodies trembling against his chest.

He wondered briefly if Harrison or any of his former colleagues had survived. Not that he cared. Harrison certainly deserved whatever Icarian fate had undoubtedly befallen him. Regardless, he supposed, it didn't matter. Whatever happened next, Central City would never be the same and certainly neither would he.

[vexic929]

me: can I please write the start of this story so I can finally post it?

brain: no but here's FOUR MORE SCENES that happen way way later that you can write!

[vexic929]

Blue Streak

Chapter 3

Warnings: electrocution

Chapter 1: link

Chapter 2: link

14 years later

Malcolm wheeled into Jitters, giving the kid who held the door open for him a 'thank you' and a friendly smile, even as she raced off a bit too early to meet her parents and the door slammed into one of his back wheels. Malcolm grimaced but continued on his way, waving to Iris as he caught her eye from behind the counter. Iris wiped her hands on her apron before half-jogging over with the coffee carafe and a mug, pouring him a cup as he opened his bag and pulled his laptop out.

"Okay, what's up, Mal?" Iris demanded, setting the carafe down and surveying him critically.

Malcolm poured creamer into his coffee, giving her a quizzical look as he stirred and sipped it. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Iris started, sitting across from him the moment her coworker signaled it was okay for her to take a short break. "Barr said you're not coming with us to the accelerator thingy tonight. What gives? You were so excited about it!"

Malcolm took another slow sip before sighing and leaning back in his chair. "It's nothing-"

"Mal." Iris interrupted, giving him a warning look.

"Look, I just...it's going to be a big crowd, if it's SRO we'll end up in the back so I won't even be able to see anything, and they'll probably want to check my wheelchair over for bombs or something. I'm just going to slow you and Barry down and as much as I'd love to see the particle accelerator launch and Dr. Wells in person it's not worth the hassle. I can watch it on TV and deal with none of that so it's fine." He insisted, avoiding her gaze.

Iris reached over to grasp his forearm gently, squeezing it. "Come on, you and Barry have been talking my ear off for weeks about it, you don't really want to miss it, do you?"

"It's fine." He repeated, forcing a smile as he met her eyes again. "Really, I'm sure there will be...other scientific advancements that alter the way we think about the universe as we know it. I can miss this one."

Iris shook her head, pursing her lips. "Malcolm Allen, don't you dare give up on something you've been looking forward to just because of a few possible roadblocks. You deserve to be there just as much as anyone else, now what's really going on with you?"

Malcolm's forced smile faltered and he looked away again, tracing the handle of his coffee cup with his fingertips. "...You should probably get back to work-"

Iris leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's bothering you. I know you too well to believe that it's just about the crowd or security checks."

Malcolm sighed, his shoulders sagging. He knew he couldn't keep his feelings from Iris, even though he often tried. She had a way of seeing through his defenses, of understanding him like no one else could.

"It's just...I'm tired, Iris," he admitted softly, finally meeting her gaze again. "Everywhere I go, it's like people see the wheelchair before they see me. And even when they do see me, they treat me like I'm a child or made of glass or just an inconvenience or something. It's exhausting. I went on that date with Eric last night and he babied me all fucking night - ordered for me, spoke over me, even pushed my damn chair without asking. Then I had an interview this morning and they took one look at the chair and told me I wasn't a good fit. Didn't matter that they loved my résumé or that I ticked every box they asked for and then some. I don't know what the hell else I'm supposed to do, I bend over backwards and it's still not enough."

Iris listened quietly, her expression filled with sympathy as Malcolm poured out his frustrations. When he finished, she reached across the table again and took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"I'm sorry, Mal. You're so much more than your wheelchair and I wish people could see that," she said softly, offering him a small smile.

Malcolm smiled back. "Thanks."

"Are you sure you don't wanna come tonight?" Iris asked and Malcolm sighed, sipping his coffee slowly.

"I'll think about it." He relented and Iris gave his hand one last squeeze before standing to go back to work.

He did think about it, he insisted defensively to both Barry and Iris as they left to go to the launch, and he certainly wasn't regretting not going, he'd insist to himself later as he watched the live news coverage while he tinkered in the back shed Joe and Barry had helped him set up as a workshop. He'd sat fairly enraptured all through Dr. Wells' speech nearly an hour ago much as he assumed Barry had done actually in the presence of the man. He wouldn't be jealous, he'd chosen not to go. He hoped Barry had enjoyed it, was still enjoying milling around S.T.A.R. Labs' lobby. Maybe he and Iris had found a quiet corner of the lab where he could explain what she needed to know for her article. Maybe he'd worked up the courage to finally tell her how he felt. He'd have to ask him later.

Malcolm sighed and shifted in his chair, reaching for the soldering iron to work on the circuit board. At the same time, the tiny, shitty, black-and-white TV set he'd been watching the coverage on shorted out. Malcolm groaned in frustration and slid the circuit board aside to instead grab the television and open it up. Maybe, if he was quick, he could fix it before the live coverage ended and still watch the tail end of it.

Several things happened suddenly in rapid succession. Lightning cracked just outside the shed, the power surged, and Malcolm felt a jolt course through him from the soldering iron and broken TV both, causing his muscles to contract painfully as he was thrown back, his chair tipping and causing him to hit the wooden floor hard. Despite the grounding, the electricity still seemed to dance through his veins, a searing agony that threatened to consume him whole before he lost consciousness altogether.

"Mal? Power's out, thought you could use some light-"

Joe's voice cut off, the flashlight he was holding clattering to the ground as he raced forward, fumbling for his cell phone and feeling for a pulse, ignoring the brief shock that hit his fingertips. Nothing. Oh god. He dialed 911 and set the phone down beside him, beginning chest compressions. He rattled off his address as clearly as he could when the operator picked up, voice shaking.

"This is Detective Joe West, I need an ambulance now. My son's been electrocuted."