AN: The first chapter is focused on situations from Harry's past that return in his nightmares. Caitlin comes in the second chapter. There is a hint of Snowells there, but nothing explicit so it's safe for the non-shippers. I hope you like it. The feedback is always welcome

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Harry tosses and turns on the small cot in a room in STAR Labs' basement. He's tangled in his sheets, his head moving restless from one side to the other. There are drops of sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. Somewhere outside a loud rumble could be heard. A storm is coming to Central City, but it doesn't matter to the tossing man. He is lost deeply in his own subconscious – running from things he could never run away from.

When Harry Wells was sent back home from war, nightmares became his nightly friends. After they released him from hospital in a wheelchair, he thought that he escaped them. But they came on his first night in his own bed. He dreamed of his man dying in front of his own eyes, of screams, rain, an pain filled eyes that hunted him ever since.

The first time he woke up, it was with a scream and a rough throat. Lib's hands were on his face and her voice calming him down. To this day he remembered how he shivered like a leaf back then.

They didn't stop immediately. Every night he woke up in a cold sweat. Every night Lib held him close, stroking his hair and murmuring nonsense to calm him down. His breathing was slowly becoming even and after that, he always tried to move away from her. She never let him. She wanted him to speak about his dreams but he always answered in the same way:

"It's over, don't worry about it."

Because how could you tell someone close to you about horrors you had to do? How could you tell about a boy, whose face hunted you every night? The boy who was only 14 when you put a bullet through his head.

Sometimes it ended when he pulled the trigger. Sometimes the boy spoke to him, sometimes screamed at him, sometimes cried. There were times when the boy pressed the detonator and everything ended in flames.

There were nights, when Harrison Wells saw himself on a mountain of corpuses. Enemies at the bottom with his friends at the top. He could see their faces- vividly and in the same way how they looked like when they died. When he looked in their eyes he could see fear, accusation, disbelieve. Their eyes were always on him, but also looking right through him at the same time and he could just stand and watch. He felt as if a something was crushing him and he didn't have the strength to fight it.

At the top of that mountain laid a woman. A girl, as he always called her, or Tess as others did. She was four years his junior. Bright and always smiling. She was his sergeant that scolded him and stole extra rations to give him. His sergeant that wasn't afraid of his temper when stress was making him a complete dick to others. She had always teased him that he was too thin and his fiancée wouldn't want him back. There were times at night when he couldn't sleep, when Harry found himself wondering: if the situation was different- if there was no war, if he had never met Lib… would it be possible for him and Tess to be together? Those thoughts never lasted long. He loved Libby, she was his brightest star and he could never leave her, not in this life, but it didn't stop the what ifs. And sometimes Harrison smiled at the thought that in all possibility there could be a parallel world, where he and Tess were together and happy as he could be with Libby.

Tess took a bullet for him. Knocked him over and took the bullet, without a second thought. It was raining that day and he was covered in mud as he held her in his arms, her bloodied hands twisting his uniform. She choke on her own blood telling him that he needs to go back to his girl.

They were pushed back, Harry had to leave her body lying on the battlefield.

And there were times in his nightmares when he died that day too.

He is shivering in his sleep now. His brows are furrowed and breathing irregular. His arms are clutching the sheets, all his muscles are tense. It's not long now.

The night are always the worst and the war nightmares aren't the only ones that hunt him.

When his rehabilitation had started another nightmare added itself to the list- that he could never walk the same again. It was irrational, he didn't lose the feeling in his legs, his spine wasn't broken. But the double compact fracture wasn't good thing either.

And so he saw himself in a wheelchair- broken. At that time Harrison Wells was afraid. He was snapping at everybody, wanted to drive Lib away. She didn't need to spend her live with an invalid. She didn't walk away. She was with him on every step- waking him up at night, calming him down and helping him to move his feet step by step.

When he finally was able to move unaided, the nightmares became less frequent and with the burning of his uniform he put some of the demons to rest and finally was able to speak about some of them with Lib.

The sheets are laying on the floor now. Harry's head moves quicker from side to side and soft, distressed sounds leave his mouth. As his heart is hammering stronger and quicker against his ribcage, somewhere above the lightning strikes the ground.

He almost forgot how it felt to have nightmares when the car accident happened. If someone asked him about the days that followed his wife's death he would say nothing. Every time he closed his eyes his mind was replaying that night over and over again.

The conversation, her scream, the scratching of tires, seeing her, pulling her out and holding her. He couldn't protect her and that had driven him insane. If that wasn't enough, his mind began to mix his war experience with that dreadful night. There were times when he saw Lib's face instead of his sergeant's. It was Lib who got shot, blown by a grenade or stabbed. All of it in front of his eyes. And he screamed. He screamed until his throat couldn't take it anymore and then he just laid crumpled on the bedroom's floor. He couldn't stand it and soon found out that the only way to not having those dreams was to get extremely drunk.

At that time he didn't care who run their...his... lab. He couldn't care less. He vaguely remembered the woman who found him on the road as she came to his house a couple of times. To this day he doesn't really know how she managed that. She fed him and tried to speak with him but he was in almost a catatonic state. Sometimes she just sat with him, not speaking or doing anything, just keeping her hand on his shoulder as he looked straight at the ceiling. He didn't know why she was doing this but when he thought about it later in his life, he was glad she did it. If it wasn't for her, he would probably die of starvation or dehydration. He just didn't care.

And there were times when she was beside him when he was having one of those dreams. One of those that even the alcohol couldn't help. He was so, so lost but she shook him awake. She didn't wait for him to speak with her, she just held him as he cried repeating his wife's name over and over again.

And then, one day, Jesse came barging into his room, throwing her little hands around his neck. It was just as he made up his mind and wanted to shoot himself. He just couldn't live like this anymore. But the loaded gun laid forgotten as he held his little girl close. His body heaving from sobs as she cried too. How could he even think about leaving her like that?

She whispered in his ear, with that high voice of hers, that it would all be ok and that she didn't give him her permission to be sad. He cried even harder and squeezing her as if his live was depending on it. And it did, because at that moment Harrison Wells discovered his new lifeline.

But the night after that he dreamed again.

In his mind eye he didn't see the boy that held the detonator. It was Lib and he had his gun trained on her. He was crying as he pulled the trigger and as her lifeless body hit the ground. He heard his name being called and someone was shaking him. He woke up with a gasp, lifting himself from the floor.

"I never got your name" He finally asked not looking at the woman sitting beside him. He swiped his face with his hand and she pretended that she didn't notice the dampness under his eyes.

"Christina McGee" She handed him a glass of water and he gulped it all at once. When he shifted she noticed the gun lying on the floor and her eyes winded. Harry spotted that and moved to gather the pistol in his palm. He weighed it and then, in one swift motion, he unloaded it and the bullet fell on the floor by his feet.

"What changed your mind?" He heard her voice as he removed the rest of the bullets and put the gun in his drawer.

"I have a daughter." He turned around and saw her nodding.

"Why are you doing this?" He suddenly asked approaching her with swift moves. "Why are you helping me? Why coming here?"

She didn't seem fazed by his sudden movements. She stood up and as it turned out she wasn't so much smaller than himself.

"I recognized you, that day- on the road" Something flashed in his eyes.

"Liked what you saw? The great Harrison Wells finally getting what was due for his arrogance?" He started pacing. Knocking empty bottles with his feet.

"I saw a man who just lost his wife. Whoever he was, he didn't deserve it"

" I don't need your pity"

"I'm not pitting you dr. Wells, but even if you don't realize that, you needed someone to keep an eye on yourself. I didn't know your wife, but I don't believe she would like to see you like that."

He looked at her then and suddenly felt ashamed. This woman saw him at his lowest and she was almost a stranger. Weirdly she didn't feel like it. She cleared her throat and he looked up at her.

"Do you need a hand to clean up this mess?"

It took them a week to sort everything out so Jesse could return. The nightmares weren't as frequent as before again. As he stood before a fresh marble grave, he made a promise to Libby, that he would protect Jesse and he intended to honor that promise. Dressed in a suit and clean shaven, he took his daughter back home. Two days later Tina McGee received a letter with a new job offer as the researcher at STAR Labs. Harry Wells didn't have time for nightmares.

With a scream dying in his throat, Harrison Wells snaps his eyes open.