because you know we're allllll worrying about it. Se just after 2.09

Echo

It'd been a month, give or take a couple sleepless nights, since Harry walked into the cortex and nearly gave Cisco an actual heart attack before Barry hurried to explain. It didn't get easier, exactly, because knowing that it wasn't the same man who murdered him did nothing to stop the night terrors, the moments of panic when Harry ghosted behind him, flickering in the corner of his eye. Sure, Cisco could calm himself, in a manner of seconds, repeating the facts over, and over, and over.
It was Eobard who killed you, and Barry stopped it, and Eobard will never even be born, so grow up, get over it. Telling himself these things didn't help always, but he hopes it will work better someday, eventually.

It didn't help, either, that as soon as he opened up, Harry used it to his advantage. Cisco had felt a phantom bruise over his chest where the helmet had struck for days afterward, but that hadn't mattered to anyone because Harry's plan had worked, they'd found Light. And that had been all that mattered, in the long run, Cisco knew. He couldn't complain about that, not really. What was one more thing to add to the laundry list of trauma that was his day to day life? One more trigger for panic?

But the time helped. Seeing Harry as his own person helped. And, surprisingly, the vibing helped. Cisco saw glimpses of why this Harrison Wells was so desperate and driven. Not for revenge, not out of anger, not out of spite or cruelty. His only motivation was his daughter. Cisco understood being willing to do the unthinkable for family, blood or otherwise. He'd seen it first hand, he'd felt it. Betraying Barry, taking a bee for Ray, being asked to bait a trap—and being willing. And even if it hadn't—even if there was no way to calm down, even if Harry hadn't stopped acting like quite as much of a dick once they understood, Cisco knew he couldn't blame him. Or rather, shouldn't. It wasn't his fault he looked like the guy who'd been body snatched. And it certainly wasn't Jesse's.

So that was what Cisco made Priority, next to "Keep Barry alive" and "survive the week to week bullshit life throws at us." Use what he could see, what he could vibe, find a way with everyone else to stop Zoom. Once they did that, Harry would go home, probably, and he wouldn't have to keep reminding himself that Harry wasn't the enemy. Wells's face was not the thing to hate, the thing to fear.

It was hard, but it was getting easier, his night terror vibes now filled with blue flame that vaporized everyone instead, which was both better and worse for obvious reasons. A new year was coming. It was hard to believe that this time a year ago, Barry's top speed was just over Mach 1.2, that he still had all his drones, that so much hadn't happened yet. They hadn't gotten Ronnie home, or lost him again. Eddie hadn't been—gone. Iris had been in the dark. He'd avoided all phone calls from his family, not that there had been many. Barry hadn't been so broken. They'd still trusted the Dr. Wells that wasn't. His dreams had been the stuff of Star Wars Fanfiction and showing up to 8th grade English finals without a pencil.
A lot had changed. Some things for the better, some things, less so. But they couldn't change the past—well, Barry could, but that was another can of worms.

So Cisco entered STAR Labs the day after the Christmas party, a frankly huge box of homemade cookies under one arm, and stopped suddenly. Harry looked like he hadn't slept, or even moved from his desk in hours.

"Uh, Harry? I brought breakfast." Cisco hefted the cookies. "Barry should be here soon, same with Caitlin…not sure about Jay." He drew closer, and without thinking moved to put a hand on the older man's shoulder.
Blue light washed over him, and Cisco sucked in a breath as the scene unfolded, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears he couldn't hear.

Harry standing in a parking lot, one of the breaches open before him. Zoom, tilting his head like he was studying some kind of insect pinned to a board, a murmur of words that Cisco couldn't make out. Zoom leaving, the portal swallowing him up. Cisco wondered why the vibe didn't end there, it ought to have. A fraction of a heartbeat later, he understood. Jesse ran—stumbled—to her father, and even with the roar of wondering in his ears Cisco knew she was crying, "Daddy," and pleading for help.
And then she was gone again, snatched from Harry's arms like a paper doll ripped away by wind. Cisco wanted to close his eyes. Wanted to fall backwards, out of the nightmare.
His hearing cleared. He wished it hadn't.
"Now decide, in return for your daughter's life." Backed by the blurred static of the vibe, Zoom's voice sounded even more alien, even more warped and twisted and wrong.
Harry answered, the blue glare making it hard for Cisco to see his face.
"I'll do it. I'll help you steal the Flash's speed."

The vision ended, and Cisco suddenly felt very, very Small. Harry was staring at him, wide eyed. Staring down at him, half a head taller.
"What did you see?" Harry's voice was low and cracking.
Cisco shook his head, mute, and took a step backwards.
"What. Did. You. See?" Harry demanded.
Cisco gripped the box of cookies tightly, wishing he'd grabbed his phone instead. Where was Barry? "You met with Zoom." The words spilled out, as if they didn't matter anymore, like the day he found out about another secret held by a man with this face. He died then, actually died, would have been in the ground if not for Barry turning back time. "You have a deal. With that thing."
"That thing, as you put it, has my daughter. He'll kill her." Harry shook his head. Cisco took another step backwards, jarring his hip on a desk. Harry followed, the same slow, even pace. "You have to understand," he said, as if pleading, but there's coldness there, an icicle edge. "The Flash and The Flash's speed is the key to saving my daughter. And no one is going to prevent that from happening."

Cisco felt the world going grey around him, and heard those words, or close enough to it, the same voice, echoing. He lifted the box of cookies like a shield protecting his chest.
"We can help you." He said, swallowing the way the words echo, like he's said them before and they didn't matter. "We can get her back, we can—work together. If Zoom thinks you're betraying Barry….we can—"

"We can't trick him. You, your team, you're all smart. But it's not enough."

Cisco didn't close his eyes, though he wanted to. I died last week, he thought, and almost laughed at the absurdity, but couldn't. Fear closed his throat, memory closed his throat. This'll be the fourth time this year. And how was that for a final thought? Hardly poetic.

There was no wave of blue flame, no sharp prick in his neck, no pressure and lightning giving way to white-hot pain in his heart. Just a wave of warmth, and then—

"Sweeeet, leftover cookies?"

Cisco sighed, deep and long. Barry. Barry was here. Caitlin and Jay wouldn't be far behind him. "Nah," he hoped his voice didn't tremble too much. "Made them this morning. You ate everything last night."

As Cisco walked toward the main table, away from the workroom and Harrison Wells, Barry prying the box from his arms, he glance backwards, just once, just for a second. Harry wore a look of total defeat, and horror.

"There's something," the older man said, interrupting a newly arrived Caitlin's lecture of proper breakfasts, "that I need to tell you."

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