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faeseekerandy · 1 month

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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."

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faeseekerandy · 1 month

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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."

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faeseekerandy · 1 month

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Aftermath

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

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