#Wally: i had a dream that Barry was actually alive in the speedforce and came back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pheuthe · 7 years

Note

Coldflash: “Your smile is not as bright as it used to be.”

((Heyo nonny, sorry it took so long :’D))

Thefireplace has already warmed the room by the time Barry steps inside. Hedoesn’t remember much of the way there, but something in his chest, tight andaching, unwinds at the first blast of warm air brushing against his skin. Hetugs his tie off, drapes his jacket over the sofa, and lets his body fold intothe armchair right by the fire.

Heremembers being a little boy too afraid of nightmares about his mother tosleep; the armchair was like a welcome embrace during those cold, long nights.He could wrap the huge, knitted blanket around his shoulders and pretend he wasback in his mother’s arms.

But how canhe lie himself to comfort this time, when it was his mother’s face who came forhim in the streets of Central City, who took him from Iris and Joe and Wally,from his family and friends because he dared to dream that one day, he couldget his happy ending?

Barrystares into the flames and does his best to let the flames burn away thebitterness, tries to tell himself that everyone back home is safe because hemade this choice… but it was a lot easier to focus on the people he was savingwhen they were right there in front of him.

Now thathe’s alone, it dawns on him that he has no idea how much time he’ll spend here.It’s not that he’s got much hope of getting out, not if he doesn’t want thespeedforce to destabilize and endanger the whole city again. But time fliesdifferently in here, even if, for some reason, he is allowed to stay in thisillusion of the West house. He wonders why the speedforce didn’t bring him tothe apartment he has come to consider ‘home’, but if he’s being honest, he’sglad for it. Being allowed back into the space he shared with Iris would justemphasize how lonely it is in a place with no other people.

In thisarmchair, by the fireplace, the loneliness almost seems fitting, even if Barryknows there will be no Joe, no Iris to walk down the creaking stairs and askhim if he’s alright. He’s stuck, for better or worse… and weirdly, after havingbeen on the run for weeks, trying to outsmart time itself, trying to changeIris’ fate, it almost feels like he can finally relax. There’s nowhere to gofrom here, and Barry feels tension draining from him as he stares into theflames.

They’resafe now. His work is done, even though he really expected the ending of hisstory to turn out differently. Barry tries to smile, even though there’s no oneto really appreciate it. They’re safe,and he’s going to have to learn for it to be enough.

“Yoursmile’s not as bright as it used to be,” a voice behind his back nearly giveshim a heart attack. Barry whips around and his eyes widen when he sees the oneperson he wouldn’t have expected.

“Snart,” heblurts out, before he realizes that the man walking through Joe’s living room,handing Barry a mug of steaming hot cocoa, cannot possibly be real. Snart’s dead, and Barry’s… well,Barry’s here, and none of it adds upexcept for the speedforce’s apparent penchant for torturing speedsters withfigments of their own imagination.

He acceptsthe cocoa anyway, suddenly too tired to move or try to fight this. Thespeedforce will say whatever it is they have to say, and then, maybe, they’llleave Barry alone. Or they’ll trap him in his own personal hell – he wonderswhat that will be. His mother’s death? His father’s? Watching Savitar, watchinghimself, kill Iris? All of it in asick loop of helplessness and despair?

A chillruns down his spine and he sips on the cocoa as Snart folds his lean body intothe other armchair. Their toes are nearly brushing, and Barry watches the mantilt his head, like a curious dog, eyes narrowed in that calculating expressionBarry’s come to appreciate. Whatever their differences, he’s always admiredSnart’s ability to coldly reason in heated situations – that’s something Barrycould learn from him.

If the manwere still alive.

“What doyou want?” Barry asks eventually, when the cocoa’s half-gone and half-cold, allthe tiny marshmallows already picked out. The fluffy sweets are just anotherproof that none of this is right: neither Joe nor Iris ever liked marshmallows,and so they were hard to come by in this house, back when Barry was a kid. Butit’s just a detail, a tiny one compared to the grand scale of things, and Barrydoesn’t much care why the speedforce chose to change that specific bit aboutthe house.

He caresmore why Snart is here, of allpeople: sure, they had their differences, but Barry doesn’t recall anythingthat would make the man an embodiment of his ‘hell’. Is the speedforce takingit easy on him for now? Making him face the man who died because Barry told himhe could be a hero?

Did he, truly? Barry wonders. There was always so much life in Leonard Snart, and Barry couldsee there would be so much more than crime and violence, if only the man wouldtake the road less travelled. Did Ireally make you die? he thinks as he looks at the perfect copy of Snart’scool smirk.

“Jury’sstill out on that,” Snart says, and Barry almost sloshes cocoa all over hisshirt, startled to have his thoughts answered. But then, the speedforce mustonly be reacting to what he asked, and he refocuses enough to remember hisoriginal question.

It makeshim frown – what does it mean, that the speedforce doesn’t know?

“Why’re youhere, then?” Barry sighs, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes.It’s not quite a headache that’s building behind his eyelids, but the pressuremakes him feel like he’d like to sleep the day – the week, the year – away.

“Looked likeyou could use some company, Barry.”

Snart’svoice is teasing, much like it used to be whenever they had one of theirrun-ins, but it grows softer around Barry’s name, just like it did that onetime Snart was actually in Joe’s living room, warning Barry about the WeatherWizard. Now that Barry thinks about it, that was the last time he saw the man,really saw him, without running back in time to cheat death or having thespeedforce use his face. It makes Barry strangely, sadly nostalgic, wonderingwhat could’ve been if Snart had agreed to help that time.

Barry can’thelp but smile, just a little, even if it’s a bitter one, amusement drawn fromthe knowledge that from where he’s sitting, there’s nothing he can do.

Where Snartis sitting, there’s no one actually there: just an image of a man who used tobe, a reminder of the many, many times Barry blundered forward without knowingwhat he was doing, and how much of an impact he would have even on men likeLeonard Snart.

“I’msorry,” he says quietly, even though he knows that his guilt cannot be assuagedby apologizing to a hallucination. “I didn’t want you- him- to die. If I knew, I would’ve…”

But there’slittle he would’ve done differently, he knows that now. He knows himself betterthan he had two, three, five months ago, and he’s always been quick to believein people… he just never learned to realize when that faith could hurt insteadof help.

“Don’t gosayin’ sorry now,” Snart drawls and stands up: for a moment, Barry thinks he’sleaving, but he just collects Barry’s empty mug. “No take backs on the speechesabout the good in people, now that I’m actually a hero, got it?”

He carriesthe mugs – a reindeer and a carved pumpkin – back to the kitchen, and Barrywatches him go, wondering if that is how Leonard Snart marched to meet his end,with that self-assured, almost cocky stride, a subtle roll to his hips,shoulders back and head held high.

And then, then it clicks that the hallucinationwith Snart’s face on said ‘I’.

Not ‘we’.Not like the speedforce did, back when it first used Snart’s name.

Barry’sheart slams against his ribs in a panicked jump. He’s out of the armchairbefore he can think twice, once more running on unreasonable hope that-

Snart looksup at him when Barry more falls than walks into the kitchen. He’s washing themugs, the sleeves of his thermal shirt damp from the water, and he looks soincredibly domestic and so human thatBarry’s heart clenches in his chest.

“Who areyou?” he breathes out, almost afraid to get the words out because this righthere might be the speedforce’s way of messing with him, a parade of the peoplehe knows, all of them dropping minute hints that they’re real, only to laugh athim afterwards. Snart’s mouth quirks up in that smirk of his, and for a secondBarry’s ready to bolt, wherever that front door might actually take him.

“Aren’t wepast the introductions by now, Barry? I’m hurt.”

It couldmean that he’s well-acquainted with the speedforce, but somehow, Barry doesn’tthink that’s it. Just as he’s about to open his mouth and ask once again, eventhough he couldn’t trust Leonard Snart’s word anyway, lightning flashes pastthe kitchen window. Snart’s eyebrows draw together.

“Time togo,” he says quietly and wipes his hands on the dish towel.

“What-where-“

“No time totalk, kid. If either of us stands a chance of getting out of here, we gottamove. Now.”

There’s adeafening noise from the living room and Barry glances just enough of itthrough the kitchen door to see the whole front wall of the house collapse in awhirlwind of lightning. His throat closes and he reaches for his speed, butSnart’s hand clamping around his wrist breaks his concentration.

“Don’t,”Snart says; there’s something about his touch, and about how pinched hisexpression is, that makes Barry feel like he’s real. “Your personal WickedWitch will find us if you use the powers. We gotta run the old-fashioned way…up for it, kid?”

And Barry,out of his depth and confused to no end, follows the man who had once betrayedhim out into the lightning storm.

#coldflash #prompt fills #angst #kinda #post-s03 #Anonymous #pheuthe answers #fanfiction

52 notes · View notes