archimedes |b. allen|

a quitter's guide to running from the mess you made

a quitter's guide to running from the mess you made

I didn't have to open my eyes to know where I was. My ass had grown so accustomed to the feeling of this stupid god damn bed that we kept in the med bay that I knew it from memory. My ass knew it by heart.

Did every other superhero spend this much time hooked up to a cardiac monitor, or was it just me?

Sadly, the first thing I notice when I come to is the pain. It's dull, and I know it could be so much worse—it was so much worse. But still, with every inhale and every exhale after that, there's a sharp clawing that rips through my back and radiates toward my side, like Zoom is slicing through me all over again. There's a sort of pressure on my legs, one that has me slightly frantic and far too anxious that Zoom somehow paralyzed me, even though I know that isn't true. Right? I can't help that my brows furrow as my lashes flutter open.

The world seems so much brighter, and it feels like I'm waking from the dead. My mouth is horrendously dry, and my tongue feels like a big, swollen cotton ball in it. The room is quiet, the only sounds are the soft and steady beeping of the heart monitor behind my head and gentle snores coming from below me.

As my eyes finally adjust to the harsh white morning light, my sights fall onto the source of the snoring, and the pressure on my legs. At least I could rule out paralysis now.

Barry's hair is a mess, disheveled and sticking up in a way that told me he'd been here a while. He sits in the desk chair that had been pulled from the workstation at the other side of the room, head in my lap as he sleeps with both his hands clutching my right one. He looks so peaceful that I don't want to wake him, don't want to move. But there's this aching feeling sitting deep in every bone in my body begging me to flail every limb I have.

I start to wiggle my fingers, and even they feel stiff. My brows draw together at the effort it takes to move, but I'm grateful everything still works. The slight movement of my shaky fingertips causes Barry to stir on my lap. I can feel him squeezing his eyes open and closed through the blanket covering my legs, but soon, he's picking his head up. And his eyes meet mine.

God, he looks so tired.

But you'd never be able to tell with the way his face lights up as he lays eyes on me. "Hey," his voice is soft as his hands unravel from mine that he'd been clutching. One hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, the other rubbing the dried drool off the corner of his mouth.

A smile tugs at my lips as my tongue darts out to wet them. They were cracked and dried to fuck, so much that I was worried they'd start bleeding when I spoke. "Barry."

Upon hearing his name, his face splits into a bright smile. His eyes bounce all over my face, like he's memorizing every detail.

But then it all comes crashing down, hitting me and knocking the air out of my chest.

Jesse. Zoom. Pain. The breach. The floor. The blood. Jay in the iron mask. Barry. All the blood. Cisco and Wells. Tunnel vision. Other Barry and Iris. Frost. Zoom. Black. Cold. Nothing.

How did we get here?

"Where are we?" the words roll off my tongue, slow, but at least I'm making sense. There's a faint memory of me not having enough energy to be frustrated by my slurred words due to blood loss.

"We're home," he nods, hands capturing my own again, giving me a small squeeze.

"Our Earth?"

I can't help the need to clarify. Because looking around, I'd swear this is our med bay. I'd promise you that my ass knows this bed better than the back of my own hand. But with the twisted mirror world I'd been living in, I couldn't ever be sure.