Act 1: The End of the Beginning

There's a milky white film covering half his sight, and on the right side of his face, burn scars stretch across his skin. (Cisco tries to joke that it's like a pizza crust, but it falls flat. They won, but at a cost.)

His other self – (The real one, as the original Barry currently reminds the team. It's odd, being a time remnant. It doesn't feel like there's an original. It just feels like living.) – is sitting on the ground, head in hands. He's tired. They're all tired.

He doesn't know whether to cheer or sob. Savitar is gone, finally. Imprisoned in the Speed Force for eternity. But Iris is still dead. That is the price of revenge.

They're all standing on the green where Savitar plunged a spike through Iris' heart. They're also surrounded by dead bodies. Copies of himself, killed by Savitar. All of the time remnants are dead, except for him. He doesn't know how he feels about that.

He had chased after Savitar, providing as a distraction. But just as Eliza Harmon did, just as the time remnant who fought again Zoom did, he began to disintegrate. Or was it melt?

Either way, it's a wound that he can't fix. (Obviously.) Too fast, Cisco tells him. You ran too fast. You're lucky you're alive. He can hear where Cisco pauses at the end, unsure whether to say Barry or time remnant. In the end, Cisco says nothing.

He doesn't know whether he's glad or not that he's still alive and all the others are not. Is life a blessing or a curse? He can continue, but it will be through months of heartbreak, of agony.

Iris is still gone.

Team Flash had come out of the nooks and crannies they had hidden in after Savitar was vanquished, carrying weapons and guns they had armed themselves with prior. Each one of them had an underlying current of relief in their expression, covered mostly by exhaustion.

Save for Caitlin, of course. Caitlin is– he can't bear to say long gone, but in truth, she is. Cisco's hands are prosthetic, now. No more hands, no more Vibe.

He wishes Wally were here to celebrate with them. (Anybody could say that trudging back to a S.T.A.R. Labs van with agony in their eyes is most definitely not celebration, but it's the best they can do, considering everything that has happened.)

Wally was…reckless, in the end. It's a cruel word, maybe, but it's succinct. It's another loss, piled on top of the others.

Wally had been overcome with anger immediately. Grief was there too, truthfully, but his rage blinded him. He had gone after Savitar, alone, and Joe had only found him the day after, shellshocked and his spine shattered.

No one knows what Wally saw that night.

There are too many prices to pay for revenge.


Act 2: Silence

He doesn't know where to go. He never thought there'd be this problem: having one too many Barry Allens. Maybe Felicity would laugh at that. Don't be ridiculous! You're like pudding. No such thing as too much pudding!

She'd never say that. Why is he suddenly thinking about her anyway? He's going insane.

Maybe he'd just thought that– that all the time remnants would be dead by the end. They had served their purpose, Barry had said.

But now? He's the time remnant. Of course, he's reminded of that daily. Does Team Flash think he's going to forget? Of course not. He's Barry Allen, 2.0, with the scars to match. But they're going to keep reminding him anyways.

The original Barry Allen still works at CCPD, goes to Iris' grave with Joe, tries to talk to Caitlin, zooms around as The Flash for a bit, and then lurks silently in the time vault.

Barry Allen 2.0 has nothing to do. What is there for him to do? He had a purpose, and it has been fulfilled. Savitar is defeated. And yet, he keeps on living.

Why?

There is no reason, of course. He was lucky. But eventually, one has an existential crisis and asks the question. Perhaps it's less rhetorical for him than the average person. But it still is rhetorical.

And he is useless.


And so, he decides to visit Wally.

The house is dead silent as he walks in. He shouldn't have expected any more than that. Joe is at work or Iris' grave, and no one else except him lives here save for a lone caregiver, Beth.

And Wally? Wally would make no noise anyways. He doesn't speak, not anymore.

Dust floats around him, swirling wildly as he walks quietly into the room. It feels like there's tension in the air, lurking about, but he doesn't know what to be so afraid of. Wally? Himself?

Is the caregiver going to suddenly run towards him with a knife, crying out, time remnant!

He doesn't know what he's thinking.

His general thought process is focused on why am I alive and grief.

It feels like there's a real Barry Allen and a fake Barry Allen, with him being the latter. (Obviously.) Like he's a pretender. He's not the original, he knows, but he is still Barry. Right?

Wally is sitting in the wheelchair, as always. And staring at the wall. As always.

Okay, that sounds a bit harsh.

He wanders to the side and drags a chair over, facing the wall. He doesn't know if he can turn to see Wally's face. It hurts. Maybe it feels too much like regret.

He glances down at the little plastic bracelet wrapped around Wally's wrist, a token from the hospital. Wallace West, it says. And that's how he starts the classic one-sided conversation. It's heartbreaking. As always.

"Wallace West? Doesn't H.R. still call you that?" he says, jokingly. In truth, H. R. hasn't visited any of them for a while. Too much pain, too much heartache. There's enough of that to go around, these days. He glances to Wally.

Kid Flash doesn't say a word. He continues, nevertheless. "My full name is Bartholomew, if you didn't know. Maybe Joe told you? I never liked being called that." He laughs a little. No response. He leans back slightly in his chair.

"Imagine if we went around calling ourselves that. Bartholomew and Wallace, two speedsters who sound like they're eighty years old. Man, even the name Jay Garrick sounds younger than that, and he's probably twice my age." He wants to cry. He wants everything back.

Wally sits there in silence. Now, he can hear the clinking and clattering of plates and bowls, as well as running water. The dishes are being done, he's assuming. He has nowhere to go, but somehow it feels like he needs to rush.

He shifts in his chair, eyebrows furrowed. "Cisco or Joe or the original Barry has probably told you we defeated Savitar." Still nothing. He's going to guess that's a yes.

"The original created a bunch of time remnants of himself, just saying. If you didn't know. I'm the last one. Savitar killed the rest."

He snorts. "I'm Barry Allen 2.0, now. Even got the scars to prove I'm unique."

He's nearly about to keep rambling on about what he had for dinner or about how he just considered himself on the same level as pudding several minutes ago when he notices Wally's heart rate monitor beeping. Loudly.

And now he hears a voice mixed in with the noise. It's not his. It's Wally's.

"You're not Barry," Wally whispers, still staring at the wall, now with horrified, widened eyes. "You're not Barry. You'll never be Barry."

Oh.

Okay.

Because he's just a time remnant.

And suddenly everything just hurts.

The sound of the dishes has stopped. The caregiver is rushing into the room, now, pushing him back slightly with an apologetic expression, muttering sorry, just need to check on him, every few seconds.

It's not hard to guess that he's fucked up.

"Wally, I am so sorry– I know I'm just a copy, but I really am–" And the word sorry just comes spilling out of his mouth the whole time, choking him.

What Wally said, what did he mean? It's useless to guess. He knows already.

He's nothing, he's just a time remnant, he's an aberration.

And his mind just jumps back to the everlasting question. Why am I alive?


Act 3: Lies

He goes back to S.T.A.R. Labs. He can always go back to S.T.A.R. Labs. It's headquarters, where The Flash always comes running back to. That's what Hartley configured, at least.

It's true, though.

And so he heads back.

Cisco is adjusting something on his prosthetic hands. Fingers, no doubt. It's harder for him, nowadays, to do precise changes on any piece of tech. It requires ample dexterity, something metal fingers, although durable, just don't have.

He knocks on the doorframe before coming in, tilting a chin at whatever Cisco's fixing. "What are you working on?"

Cisco starts at his sudden interruption, nearly dropping the screwdriver in his hands as he looks up with a crooked smile. "Hey, Barry! 2.0, I see." Cisco points a gloved finger at his scars.

He lifts a hand to his face, brushing over the melted skin. Right. 2.0. The time remnant of Barry Allen. He doesn't know why that hurts so much.

"Oh, yup." He walks forward and waves at Cisco's hand. "So. Something wrong?"

Cisco looks down and shakes his head with a grimace. "No. Just…trying to make them work a bit better. You know." Cisco sets the tool down on the metal table with a clink. "You here for anything in particular?"

He sits down. Shrugs. His shoulders feel heavy. S.T.A.R. Labs feels empty with Iris gone. The Cortex is unusually silent. The Speed Lab is desolated. Everything is just…absent.

"I don't know, I thought maybe I could work on something with you, maybe something in the Speed Lab–"

Cisco sighs and leans again the table. "Look, man, I've already worked a bit with Barry in the Speed Lab today, so I don't know–"

What? But I'm Barry, he wants to say. I'm Barry Allen. I'm still here.

But he knows he isn't. Not really.

He holds up his hands in surrender, eyebrows raised with a smile. It feels fake. "Hey, Cisco, don't worry."

His scars twist with his expression. It feels ugly.

"I'll just, I don't know, run around about as The Flash, just make sure everything's alright in the city."

Cisco sighs again, wearily, rubbing his forehead. "Look, Barry, time remnant, whatever– we've already got one Flash. We really don't need another. Just– I don't know, do something else."

He gets what Cisco's trying to say. We don't need you here. We don't want you.

Whatever. He's tired of everything. Cisco's tired of everything. Team Flash is tired of everything. Tired of losing, tired of mourning, tired of living the life Savitar left them.

Whatever.

He nods, slowly. "Yeah, you're right, you're right." I'm nothing, aren't I? He gets up and heads towards the door. "I'll just be…around, if you need me, I guess."

He speeds out of the room too quickly to ever hear Cisco's reply.

He doesn't care.


Act 4: Death

Iris' grave is agony. Pure, unadulterated agony.

He wants her back, desperately. But he can't go back in time. He can't save her no matter what.

Savitar wins, either way.

What would Iris do, if she were here? Which Barry Allen would she go to? The real or the fake?

It's an obvious choice. The original Barry Allen is the one they want, the one they need. The one Team Flash loves, the one they'll do anything for.

Time remnant Barry Allen, however, is a disposable copy. A spare. You send in the aberration, and if he dies– whoops! Well, now we have to be more careful with the second, considering the second is the more precious one.

He decides he hates Barry Allen.

Iris' grave sits in front of him disappointedly. She'd be disappointed, surely. She'd also be sad, too. She'd want Team Flash back together, putting meta-humans behind bars and saving the day!

Well, now they're all lacking in that. The Flash hasn't been spotted in Central City in several weeks.

He assumes that The Flash is sitting in S.T.A.R. Labs, doing nothing. He wouldn't know. He hasn't been back to S.T.A.R. Labs in a month.

She'd be disappointed in both Barry Allens, perhaps.

He doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse.


After a while, Joe visits Iris' grave. Fresh flowers, brought every day.

He wishes he could do that. Of course, he can't really go out in public, considering his scars and the fact that there'd be two Barry Allens. And a lot of questions.

So he settles for just talking. Joe can bring the flowers, and he'll tell Iris how wonderful the flowers are.

Wonderful.

He's kneeling down in front of the tombstone when Joe comes closer, said flowers in hand.

"Barry?" Joe calls out, voice rough. He doesn't think Joe expected him to be there. He doesn't think Joe expected anyone at all. His heart twists at the thought. As much as he's just a copy, he doesn't want Iris to be alone.

He lifts a hand in salutation, not turning around. "Nope. Time remnant."

He doesn't know what makes him say that. Normally, he'd say yes. Yes, I'm Barry. That's me.

Then again, it seems he isn't Barry Allen these days. (At least, that's what Team Flash seems to think.)

Barry Allen is sitting in the time vault. Alone.

(And yet, why is the time remnant the version of The Flash that stays at Iris' grave?)

He wants Joe to object to what he says. To say, just because you're a time remnant, doesn't mean you're not my son!

Or something like that. Instead, he gets what he expects. There's a quiet grunt in acknowledgment of his words, and the flowers rustle softly as they're placed in front of the tombstone.

Red and yellow. How nice.

Joe interrupts the silence, lowering himself down next to him. "So. You're the time remnant that Barry created?"

He doesn't move. "Yup." He can't deny that. He is, after all, the time remnant.

(Will he ever be Barry Allen?)

Joe takes off his glasses and looks down. "Savitar killed nearly every one of you, didn't he?"

He nods. He doesn't feel like speaking. He's just a copy.

Joe accepts the nod with one of his own, closing his eyes. "Could I just– be alone, for a minute?" Be alone with Iris. Isn't that what both of them want?

He glances over to Joe and blinks, once. "Sure," he says, and speeds away.

Now they can both be alone.


Act 5: The Beginning of the End

He hates Barry Allen.

Barry Allen has everything.

And he has nothing.

And what does Barry Allen, Central City's finest hero, choose to do? Lock himself in the time vault, doing nothing. Nothing, except for regretting. Perhaps they're all regretting, but at least he's not a complete failure like Barry Allen. (Well, he hopes he isn't. Maybe they're all failures.)

He wants it. He wants everything Barry Allen has, wants everything Barry Allen took from him. Took from his life.

Because isn't he Barry Allen too?

Although he thinks he can answer that question. Not anymore. At least, according to Team Flash. Because what is he, other than a glitch in the timeline, a Flash that nobody wants?

Because why would they? They've already got one hero. Why do they need another?

He wants– he wants it to end. He wants the suffering, the agony to end.

He wants to be part of a family– to be part of Team Flash again. To be someone. To have someone. He wants everything back.

(He doesn't know which one he hates more: Barry Allen or Savitar. They both took everything in their own way.)

He wishes he died that day. Fighting Savitar. He wishes that as he ran, he had burned up, disintegrated. Wishes that Savitar had killed him along with the others.

Why didn't Savitar kill him? Why wouldn't Savitar just take him down like all the rest of the time remnants, as an apparent god does? Why would Savitar just leave him in this hellhole–

Oh.

God feels no pain.

Okay.


Killer Frost is in Iron Heights, he knows this. They tried to question her so many times that they eventually lost count. But she's loyal to the bitter end, isn't she? (Good.)

Julian lets him in without question. He looks like Barry, he's Barry's time remnant, who wouldn't trust him? (They shouldn't trust him.)

He's led to Killer Frost's cell, with Julian standing behind him, waiting. It'd be so much easier if Julian weren't there. But the CSI is useful in his own way. In the past, at least.

Killer Frost turns to him, smirking. "You're Barry's time remnant, right?" She waves a hand at his face. "I noticed the scars."

He resists the urge to grit his teeth. She knows how to irritate him. Of course she does. She knows everything there is to ever know about him.

"Yes, I'm the time remnant. Caitlin–" he says, and her eyes flare white with anger. She paces in her cell. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head back. "Killer Frost, then. You know who Savitar is."

It's not a question. He knows this. Team Flash knows this. There's no point in asking since she'll never tell.

He just has to tell her what he knows.

She sneers, narrowing her eyes at him. She's suspicious. Of course she's suspicious. No one has asked her in a while, so why would they be asking now? "You think I'm going to tell you?"

He tilts his head curiously, hands resting in his pockets. He's beginning to enjoy this game of words. "Why would I need you to tell me?"

Killer Frost comes to a halt, her gaze roaming over him warily. Then she nods, ever so slightly, continuing her pacing with a smirk. "Well. You won't get his identity from me." She pauses, ever so slightly. "Are you going to enjoy your trip back?"

He answers with a languid smile. "Of course, Killer Frost. Of course."

She laughs, and Julian Albert makes a confused noise behind him. Right. He had forgotten about his former coworker.

He turns to Julian with a nod. "Let's leave."

They exit out the door, and Savitar speeds into the night.