Chapter Text
Barry stumbled into STAR Labs, his legs aching from the run. He needed some stability, something familiar, after all the blurring memories. After the grief. Caitlin and Cisco and the computers and lights of the cortex, anything.
Caitlin sat at one of the desks, frowning at her monitor. A mug of coffee cooled beside her. With the rush of air, she looked up.
“I’m--”, Barry cut himself off. Back didn’t really fit, did it? He wasn’t sure where in this timeline he had broken through, and too much was muddled in his mind to figure it out yet.
Caitlin turned in her seat to look at him, slow. “Barry,” she said.
Time seemed to freeze as Barry took in everything around him, his brain speeding up to process all the things that didn’t add up, that didn’t fit, that weren’t right.
There were police files on Caitlin’s desktop, a mess of them alongside uncapped hi-liters, and rings from myriad coffee mugs. It was a far cry from her usual tidiness. The glass board was wheeled back against one wall, photos of criminals stuck to it, some faces more familiar than others, some he could not place at all. Beneath the papers that still rustled with the breeze of arrival, he could see the places where an eraser had not gotten all of the marker off. The markings were long straight lines and filled in circles, not the complex calculations or Lord of the Rings family trees that usually cluttered every available writing surface. The satellite feed that usually lit up a screen near the slot in the wall for his suit was blank. And Cisco’s desk…
Cisco’s desk was like a lit beacon of Things That Were Wrong. The Star Trek mug had been replaced by a plain green one, and an unfamiliar leather portfolio case was aligned neatly with the side of the desk. A few thin coils of wire were arranged around a few small tools, but there were no blueprints, no pens going dry, no pencils loose. There were no bolts or washers scattered across the surface, and the computer was off, with a thin layer of dust. A suit jacket was arranged over the back of a straight backed chair.
“What are you doing here?” Caitlin finished. Barry blinked.
“I-- came to see… you?” he asked, then corrected. “How you were doing.” He had not missed that Caitlin’s eyes, while dry, were red-rimmed.
“How do you think we’re doing?” she asked, her voice suddenly the harsh snap of cracking ice. She held the silence for a moment and then sighed, softening. “I--know it’s been a hard summer. Did you find anything?”
“Anything?” Barry echoed, looking back to the desk that should have been Cisco’s. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, to lose his memory of previous timelines, for a little more clarity here. “What, uh, am I looking...for?”
“What do you mean, what are you looking for?” a voice that was far more angry than it was familiar rang out, beating its owner through the doorway. “ How could you possibly not remember?”
Barry stared at the man facing him. A pair of dark-paned goggles had been pushed up above his eyes, mussing short, styled hair. Barry recognized him, but seeing him here, in Cisco’s goggles, was startling.
“Dante? Dante … Ramon? What are you doing here?” he asked, his words too fast to pull back. All he could think of was the teacup in Jay’s hand, precarious.
“What am I doing here?” Dante repeated. “Some friend you are. But then, you’ve already shown that. I’m here trying to do your job for you, since you won’t.”
“Dante,” Caitlin said, face pinched.
“What?” he snapped. “Someone has to actually keep this city safe. He let them kill my baby brother, and I’m not going to let them get away with it.”
Barry stumbled, feeling as though another bolt of lightning had just struck him, his whole body numb. He could see the teacup, shattering.
“Cisco’s…” Barry managed to say, the pit in his heart that had torn open when Zoom killed his father bursting.
Dante advanced, and Barry noticed for the first time that his palms were wrapped in layers of bandages, his fingertips creased and callused and burned like he’d been working with hot wire. He saw it coming, clearly telegraphed, but could not move as Dante gripped the air in one hand, twisting, and gripped Barry’s shoulder with the other, holding back the hiss of pain. His eyes blazed golden, and he released Barry with a shove so hard Barry hit the doorframe behind him.
“Dante!” Caitlin leaped to her feet, but Dante ignored her, taking a step towards Barry. “What,” he asked, his voice dangerously soft, “ did you do?”