SNOWBARRY: Sometimes Runs, Sometimes Can't

Chapter 27 - I Don't Mean Harm

It had been eight weeks since Frost first visited him at S.T.A.R. Labs.

When she came that first day, he'd expected her to be like the others. Pitying him, trying to fix him, to make things better.

But she didn't. She was there, even after seeing the worst parts of him, parts he'd made sure to show, and yet, she still stayed.

Her eyes never flinched at what he'd become, at what he was, or what he'd done. She didn't recoil from him.

He couldn't find the words to explain what was inside him. The loss. The grief. The choices he'd made as they taunted him every night. And every day she'd come and make it slightly more bearable.

He accepted his fate. Accepted the consequences. Cut ties with the people he couldn't risk hurting again.

Pain. He'd caused so much of it in the past year.

Maybe he wasn't so different from Thawne after all.

***

"Barry Allen," a familiar voice said behind him.

He turned around. Caitlin stood in front of him. Hair stirring, eyes burning but steady.
Beautiful. So beautiful. His heart cracked at the sight of her.

"Once," she began, each word a blade, as she took a step forward.

"A brilliant forensic scientist," a step forward.

"A hero," another step.

"A friend," then another.

"A lover," she let out a bitter laugh as she took another step.

"A liar," her laugh grew louder, closer.

"A killer." she closed the distance between them. 

Barry tried to speak, to tell her it wasn't like that, that he'd had no choice. But the words snagged in his throat.

Caitlin's expression never changed, as ice swirled around her fingers, condensing into a blade as clear as crystal. 

The dagger flashed with blue fire in her hands, as she aimed straight for his throat.

***

Barry jolted awake his blood boiling, Caitlin's final words still echoing like a song, when his phone buzzed at 5:12 A.M.

A dream. It had only been a dream.

One of many these days, but never before with Caitlin in it. And despite her aiming to end him in that vision, he still felt unworthy of even a glance from her after the way he'd let her slip away.

But if it were up to him, he would have let her slide the dagger into him over and over again, if it meant her face was the last thing he ever saw.

Barry grabbed his phone, checking the alert that had torn him from a dream where he'd finally been getting what he deserved.

A message. No, not a message, just a shared location from Frost. He squinted at the map pin.

Barry: ??

The answer came before he could set the phone down.

Frost: Sunrise. Don't chicken out.

He rubbed his eyes.

Barry: What's happening at an abandoned rail yard before dawn?
Frost: Less talking. More moving.

Barry went for two reasons: first, to make sure she paid for the audacity of waking him this early; second, because the thought of her out there, alone, had stiffened something in him.

He moved before he could talk himself out of it.

Shower. Black coffee. Clothes. Car.

He hadn't been out in days. He ran errands once a week, just keep up with his healthy routine. Laundry. Food and groceries. But he rarely, except for those food and laundry runs, left the building.

So leaving the wretched lab today for another reason didn't feel as hard as he'd expected.