A/N: Welcome to the 3rd and final story in the Wounds of the Soul/Spirit trilogy. Just so you know, you don't have to read the first 2 to read that one, since it's the most ''stand-alone'' of the 3, but if you enjoy this story, I encourage you to go back to see how everything started. And, to help you all, here's a little recap for those who haven't read the other stories and to refresh the memory for the rest of you:

1) A guy named Hyde, born in the 19th century, was in posession of half of the Fountain of Youth and was looking for the second part of it in order to become completelly immortal

2) He captured Barry and another man, named Matt Carter (a Meta with the ability to supress other Meta's powers) in order to accomplish that goal

3) Hyde ''brainwashed'' (it's more complicated than that, but the results are similar) both of them and under Hyde's influence, Barry broke Cisco's arm and almost killed Caitlin, among other things

4) After the team managed to turn Barry back to normal, Barry left and returned months later , hoping to find and heal Matt, the other prisonner who became his friend

5) They failed at helping Matt, who died and left a widow and 3 children behind, including a newborn baby. To avenge his friend's death, Barry returned to the place that turned him and destroyed it

6) He found the place, in the South of France, thanks to a convenient meeting with a strange young blonde named Olivia that Barry randomly stumbled upon.

7) While destroying it, he got hit by a magical wave from the source of that place's power and got badly stabbed, leaving him dying and alone in the snow

Plus, don't forget that, in that story, Flashpoint never happened, so there's no Savitar, no Kid Flash and no Killer Frost, even if this 3rd story take place at the end of January 2017. And yeah, I know I'm one day early, but I'm gonna be super busy tomorrow. Consider that a late Christmas present. Enjoy!

How long had Barry been unconscious? Hours? Minutes? More? Less? Through the thick fog of his mind and the hammer constantly banging in his head it was impossible to tell. All he wanted to do right now was go back to sleep and hide away from all the pain still overwhelming his limbs and battered body, he desperately needed to escape from all of this. Why couldn't everything just stop now? What was wrong with him? He couldn't even remember his own name at the moment. Where was he? Who was he? What was keeping him from slipping back into the comforting darkness? Was it because of the distant sound screaming his name? Well, screaming one name since Barry had no idea if that name was even his own.

"H'ry…st….me."

That voice, that distant feminine voice sounded so, so far away and Barry just wanted to ignore it. He just wanted to mumble 'let me sleep' and 'go away', but speaking proved to be just too much of an effort. Not a single sound made it out of his throat. Even the task of opening his eyelids turned out to be too much of an insurmountable task as all the hero was able to do was simply stay motionless with a barely perceptible breathing. Maybe if he could stay in that position long enough the voice would go away on his own and leave him alone… except, it didn't. With every passing second, the words were getting clearer, but Barry was too weary to show any sign that he acknowledged them or the presence of that other person.

"Henry? Please, say something," every word was being spoken with obvious concern as fingers ended up being pressed against his neck.

"Stay with me, Henry. Stay with me," said the woman once more before turning him on his back and pressing both hands on Barry's stomach.

Under the pain that erupted all over under the contact, he managed a weak grunt in protest, but it only lasted a second as the feeling got replaced by warmth and the pain started to get dull. Whatever was wrong with him, was it over? Was he finally dying and losing all his senses? Under the numb sensations, he barely felt anything as a sharp object was being extracted out of his body, but he sure heard the suction sound that came with it. Groaning again, he allowed his mind and body to relax as darkness came back for him, lunging at him like a wild animal to drag him away from the cold and the sufferings. At this point, Barry couldn't care less about not knowing if he ever was going to emerge from his sleeping state again or if he was about to leave this existence. It didn't matter, not as long as the voice was there to let him know he wasn't alone, even if that voice almost sounded frustrated and so far away.

"C'me on H'ry. F'ght! Y' can…"

The rest was lost to the speedster.

So tired. So much pain. Someone panting. So cold. Being dragged in the snow. These were the first sensations that Barry's senses registered the next time he came around. So, not dead, apparently. A weak whimper was the only sound that was able to pass his lips, one too quiet to be heard over the crunching sound of boots slowly progressing in the snow or over the heavy breathing emanating from the person dragging him by the shoulders.

Without warning, all contact on his shoulders were lost and the couple of inches drop to the ground sent a new wave of pain and nauseous. Pushing these feelings aside wouldn't have been so difficult if it wasn't for the lump in his throat that was making it hard to breathe around. Coughing hard to clear his airway seemed like a good idea at the time, but it instantly turned into a coughing fit, one the speedsters he couldn't stop.

"Henry? Henry? You with me?" the voice inquired, rushing to his side and crunching down in the snow. Every word was definitely clearer and easier to hear this time around, despite the whistling wind freezing him to the bones.

'Think so', that's what he wanted to say, but it only ended up in more sneezing and incomprehensible mumbles. Well, his hearing was better at least, but his eyelids were still tightly sealed shut, leaving him as vulnerable as a newborn.

"Come on, let me help you," added the woman's voice, once again placing herself behind the man and helping him in a seated position, easing his current condition, "we can't stay here, we need to take refuge from the storm."

Storm? What storm? Oh…. probably the reason why the hero could feel some small, cold and wet particles on his face. Why was he in a snowstorm to begin with? At the moment, all he cared about was to finally be able to breathe. Now, he just wished the pain would go away.

It didn't take long, as soon as his breathing got easier, for Barry to start slumping a bit more under the touch, surrendering to the pain and exhaustion.

"Go back to sleep, I'll take care of you…I'm so sorry for everything."

What was she sorry for? The woman sounded exhausted, she almost sounded as bad as he was feeling. Did she get hit by the same train that ran over him? Fighting sleep away, he managed to crack open his eyelids, well, just a tiny bit, just enough to start distinguishing the blurry snowflakes floating around and, moments later, the pale face hovering over his. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he couldn't because, in the next moment, his world turned back to black.

The third time Barry came around, it was with his back sprawled on something really hard and unequal, something like rock maybe? He still felt wet and cold, but at least, this time, there was a small and constant source of warmth on his right. Slightly moving his head in that direction, he managed to open his eyes just a little, just enough to spot the crackling fire. Grunting his teeth together, he rose his right hand to his stomach, trying to ease the constant agony in his guts. By moving his limbs, he disturbed the extra layer of clothes on himself, making it resonate in the room filled with silence. What was this place? A cave?

"Hey…H'y!" Said a voice near and closing in, alerted by the sudden noises. Hurrying footsteps were closing on his position and a gentle hand laid itself on his arm.

Drunkenly, Barry moved his hand away from his wound to reach for the long golden lock of hairs hanging close to his face. Except, the extra movement of his limb caused a groan of agony to pass his shaking lips.

"Shhh…go back to sleep, Henry."

"Who…" finally, the first word of the… was it night? Were they still in the same calendar date? Even if Barry couldn't remember much right now, he knew, deep down, that it wasn't how his voice was supposed to sound like; weak and broken.

"Don't try to talk, just rest," repeated the worn voice.

"Co…o…o…o…col-" he stuttered with quaky teeth, his eyes already closing.

"Shhhm s'okay, go ba' to sleep," whispered the voice while replacing the piece of clothing, it felt like a coat, a little tighter over and under his shoulders.

That voice was so soothing; all Barry wanted to do was obey and that's what he did, without further due, sinking back into unconsciousness.

The notion of time got lost as Barry's mind and level of awakening kept on drifting on and off and on and off again in this unending cycle. At some point, the young CSI lost all senses of reality; was he dreaming? Was that burning sensation real? Was he a prisoner in some small and weird blue cell? Was he sleeping on a comfortable bed? Was he running on a wall and throwing a lightning bolt? Was he trying to kill innocents? Was he dying, alone and freezing? At one time, they felt all real, while, in the next moment, they were all dreams, or maybe more like nightmares for some.

Who turned up the heat? He felt like he was on fire, on more like running into a fire. Yeah, what a stupid idea, why would anyone run into a burning building? That thought had him chuckling. Was that the real world? What about that woman with the golden braid that he kept on seeing and hearing?

No matter which reality was real, all the speedster could hope for was that the one he was going to wake up and stay in was the one where breathing wasn't a struggle.

***FLASHFLASHFLASH***

"S'cold," weakly mumbled Barry, battling the hands assaulting his face.

That was a solid A for the effort, but, the result? In his state, Barry proved unable to reach his goal as only the hand on his cheek moved away while the other one stayed undisturbed and kept on pressing the wet washcloth on his forehead.

"Only feel cold because you still have a fever," muttered the voice in answer.

"M'fine," protested Barry, moving his head to his side in a desperate attempt to get away from the uncomfortable feeling.

Silence followed as his interlocutor realized the man she was treating wasn't talking to himself or responding to some hallucination anymore.

"Are you back with me? You had me worried for a moment there," the relief was evident in each of her words.

Cracking his green feverish eyes open, Barry blankly stared at the white whirling ceiling above his head and blinked a few times to clear his vision. It definitely wasn't a cave or a snowstorm anymore; he was back inside a real residence. Unless he was in a hospital? No, it wasn't. While his back was resting on a comfortable and soft mattress, it didn't smell like antiseptic and there was no beeping inside the room.

"Henry?" inquired the woman once more after her question went unanswered. Maybe she was wrong, and he wasn't completely back just yet.

After a few tries and shifting around, Barry's unfocused gaze finally found the young woman and met her clean green eyes. She looked so young and innocent and yet so serious and focused at the same time.

"Who's Henry?" He rasped with the little strength he still had left, looking straight at the young woman's eyes.

"Who's…but…that's-" clearly, she was taken back by the question, "it's you. Henry. Do you recognize me? Olivia?" she tried, disconcerted.

"Ol….li…via," he parroted, rolling the name on his tongues. The syllables sounded vaguely familiar, but at the same time he wasn't able to make the connection, "I don't…where am I? Who are you? Who am I?" He started rambling faster and faster, his eyes rolling in their sockets and his heartbeat pumping faster by the second, only matched by his increasing breathing pattern.

The clearly panicking man just needed one thing; get out, get away. Where? He had no idea, but the clearer his thoughts, the stronger his panic was growing as the realization he had no memories of his life hit him like a runaway train. For all he knew, that Olivia could be the reason behind all of his troubles. Desperate to get away, he violently threw his head in the opposite direction, freeing it from the washcloth and from the delicate hand holding it in place. He struggled with all the little strength he had left to get seated by pushing his palms on the sheet and sending Olivia in complete disarray.

"I need you to calm down, I'm your friend," she tried, her hands in the air in a sign of good faith. What else was she supposed to say or do?

"Nop', you're not my friend, I don't know you, I don-ARG!" He suddenly screamed in sudden pain, pressing both of his hands on the bed's covers, right over his chest, and falling back to where he started.

"In and out, Henry, in and out," said Olivia, rushing back to help by gently massaging his arm and replacing the sheet up to cover his chest, only leaving the man's head and arms out in the open, "we met at Rocamadour, almost 3 days ago, remember?"

3 days ago? He couldn't remember his own name, how was he supposed to remember what he did three days ago?

"I found you in the snow, wounded. You barely escaped from a cave collapsing on you and I took you here to save your life. I am your friend and I do mean you no harm."

"Wh't happened to me? Why can't I remember?"

"I...I don't know why you forgot your life," admitted Olivia, stuttering.

It wasn't right. Sliding one arm under the fluffy cover, Barry's hand made contact with the bandage on his chest and he frowned.

"What's wrong with me?" He asked, eyes glassy with pain.

"You...you took...hmm," whatever explanation she had been preparing for the last couple of days surely wasn't adapted to this new development, "some falling debris entered your skin and while you didn't perforate your organs, you still came up with a bad infection and fever. You've been in and out for almost 2 and a half days now," she finally let out.

Nothing perforated? Fever and infection? Barry sure remembered feeling like he was dying in the snow when Olivia arrived... but, if his injuries were serious, she wouldn't have been able to nurse him back to health on her own without intensive medical treatments. He might not remember who his friends were or where his home was, but at the moment he was too drained to do anything other than relying on his new friend.

"Don't worry-" she continued, "you fever is finally coming down and you should be out of the wood soon. Just, rest, I'll be there when you wake up," she assured, "you're safe."

Now that that world wasn't drunkenly whirling in front of his eyes and that everything was clear, Barry took the time to examine his surroundings and what he was resting on; he had been sleeping on a luxurious looking queen size bed with purple flannel sheet and big, fluffy pillows under his head. The bedroom wasn't that big, but it counted one imposing and carved wooden drawers and a wardrobe with glass door. Was that Olivia's house? Or, was he in his own house? Was he home or far away from it? So many questions that would need to wait as a scratching sensation was spreading in his sore throat after talking for the first-time in... forever.

After trying and failing to clear his throat a couple of time, a glass of clear water magically appeared right in front of his face and a delicate, but strong, hand went behind his back to slowly support him back into a half-seated position, just enough to drink.

"Thanks," he rasped after a few sips.

"You're welcome," grinned Olivia, helping him to lay back down, aware that her patient had lapsed back into unconsciousness before his head even hit the pillows.

She had no idea what she was thinking when she sent him in the cave's directions or when she decided to save his life, but she had been hoping that chapter of her life would be over in a matter of days. What now? She couldn't just throw him back into the world in his condition. No, she wasn't going to do that…at least not while the choice was still in her hands.

"You need to get better fast, for both of our sakes," she whispered to the sleeping form.

A/N: Leave a comment and let me know if you're ready for more.

Do you trust Olivia?

I'm gonna be really busy during the rest of the holidays, so it's gonna take a few weeks before the next chapter. But, once it will get going, it will be regular updates :) As soon as I know for sure when the story will really get started in January, i'll post the date on my Twitter account (link in my profil). Happy holidays and Happy new Year to all of you!