Tag to 3x09

Julian's POV, after he walks out of STAR Labs

Soap, scrub, rinse, repeat. Soap, scrub, rinse, repeat. Soap, scrub, rinse, repeat.

The clothes had already burned. The minute, no, the second, he burst into his apartment he was already pulling the black long sleeve over his head like it was strangling him, and kicked off his pants in the same frantic set of motions. Never mind thinking anything through, never mind thinking anything at all-who knows if his thoughts were even his? As soon as he could, a pail normally used for the humble job of holding different varieties of paintbrushes was sitting in the living room, filled with flames eating happily away at the dark garments.

He was never wearing them again. No one would wear them again.

Did he even like black clothing, or was it just Savitar's influence? Had Savitar's likes and dislikes leaked into his actual personality? Had he even bought those items of clothing of his own free will? Did he remember buying those clothes? Did he even pay for them, or did Savitar just have him steal them?

Soap, scrub, rinse, repeat. Soap, scrub, rinse, repeat. Soap, scrub, rinse, repeat.

Mere soap could not clean away what had been done. People had been hurt, killed, turned into cult members, turned into metahumans. He could not casually scrub away what had been done just because he hadn't known what he was doing. The entire problem of Savitar, alchemy, the husks, everything-was on him. He hadn't willingly turned anyone into a meta, no, but even when he had total control over his mind he had followed Savitar like a kid after an ice-cream truck for the chance of seeing Emma.

The water had gone cold half an hour ago, but it didn't matter. He still felt violated and dirty, like he could never feel clean again. It didn't matter how clean he was on the outside, if everything inside felt corrupted.

Savitar had been inside his head. His head was no longer a private place to mull over the minutiae of life, a storage facility to store bits of this and that, a place to escape in private moments, or a place of refuge when a co-worker was too stupid to listen to anymore.

What he would give to go back in time and tell his younger self to steer clear of India. How many people would be alive if he had just accepted that there were things he couldn't change?

Eventually, fear of the water bill forced him to leave the shower. He pulled on an CCPD sweatshirt and old jeans-things he would be wearing with or without Savitar.

Truth time.

Shaking, he opened up his laptop. Heart constricting, mouth dry, he opened the CCPD's database and searched for anycase with a connection with Dr. Alchemy. Any case with husks. Most of them he already knew by heart-he had processed them himself. Frankie Kane. Shade. Edward Clariss. The list went on.

As he poured over photos of the lair that Dr. Alchemy-that he had fled from during the raid, snatches of previous conversations with Barry played in a humiliating loop in his head.

You need to resign. Your moral compass in broken. Someone like you shouldn't be in this line of work. Metas are unpredictable. The Flash has made this department useless.

He printed out resignation papers, then crumpled them up. He pulled out his phone, then realised he had no one to call. What would he say? Please help me get through the traumatic aftermath of getting possessed by a speedster from another dimension? Please help me work through finding out that I'm sort of a cult leader that's been wreaking havoc?

Surprisingly enough, he had no real need to process the fact that his mercurial partner was The Flash. Maybe it was because it of made sense, of sorts. Maybe because it filled in an almost complete picture. Mostly because he'd spent a good hour stewing over it while locked in the pipeline.

Speaking of Barry, it was only fair to at least try to get him his job back. He opened a new tab, wrote out an email to Captain Singh about the open position in the CCPD lab, then shut the computer. There was nothing more he could do about it tonight.

Answers. That's what he needed. Why him? Why not get someone in India, instead of someone halfway around the world? Did the cult members know who he was? Savitar being gone didn't solve all the problems he caused.

In one fluid motion, he scooped up his phone and swiped down his list of contacts until he found Barry's name, but paused before hitting the call icon. It was Christmas. The man had family, a girlfriend, and a large group of friends, and a party to help host.

Screw it, he was going. His anxious energy was bouncing everywhere, untethered, and he couldn't control it. Being around people would help. Being stuck in a vacuum would just make things worse.

It was Christmas.

The West house was in a decent neighborhood, especially for a single father living on a cop's salary. Judging by the noise emanating from the house, the party was in full swing, and had been for a while.

This was a terrible idea.

As if he still wasn't in full control of his body, he shuffled up to the front door, knocked, and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

Barry opened the door, and the smile slipped from his face a little.

He's probably remembering you trying to kill him. Retreat! Back up!

"Hey Julian. Here, some on in-let me get that," he said, taking his umbrella, his features melting into those of concern. Barry took a few steps to let him in the door, and he quickly took the opportunity to shut it. Be harder to kick me out.

"After everything that happened, I decided I didn't want to be alone tonight," he said. It was true. The hole that he was carving for himself wouldn't just have his coffin in it-with the amount of people's secrets tied up in the Savitar issue, he might end up taking someone else down with him. "Being alone was a bit, lonely, soo.."

Barry nodded understandingly, and he had never liked Barry Allen more.

"Here, I've got something for you."

Apparently, Singh had been awake, and was more that willing to sort out the Barry Allen situation. He got the feeling that the captain had never fully accepted the fact that Barry had quit of his own free will. Plus, there was the added bonus of not having to do all the paperwork that came with letting someone go and hiring someone new. It also solved the problem of Joe's mopiness and refusal to talk to the CSI teams.

As he rambled through his explanation of Barry having his job back, he watched Barry's face carefully. The other man's face lit up as he processed what was going on, and he smiled again,a real one this time.

"Merry Christmas, man," Barry said, his face alight. He waved him farther into the warm house, and for a minute, he thought he could make it through the evening without any more awkward moments.

Then Dr. Snow appeared and he realized that, no, he would not make it through the evening without more awkwardness.

"What some eggnog?" she offered, and he replied, that yes, he would like some.

The hot drink shot shot down his throat, and every sip after seemed to center some of his anxious energy. The spreading warmth that resulting from the alcoholic burn didn't get rid of the rotting that he still felt inside, but it sort of felt that it loosened it up.

Guilty thoughts began to worm themselves into his mind. Look at you, having eggnog, going to a party, like you haven't laid waste to people's lives.

He stayed there for a bit, by the stairs, trying to chase those thoughts away before they gained a permanent footing.

I didn't know what I was doing.

Oh really? You didn't know what you were doing? You weren't in full control of yourself when you opened that box when the woman told you not to? Your own parents told you not to spend the money to go to India!

"I know that face," came Caitlin's voice out of nowhere, causing him to jump a few inched into the air.

"Warn a man!"

The doctor smiled, and beckoned him over to a side table in another part of the room. The a man he had never met-the others called him HR-was passed out. Detective West was gone, probably off snogging the DA, and the Barry-Iris duo was nowhere to be found.

"That's the face of someone who is finding new and creative ways to blame themselves for something they had no control over."

The phrase, "You don't understand," died on his lips. Considering the events of the past few weeks, Caitlin, more that anyone here, could understand. "I'm sorry," he managed.

Her loose curls bounced as she laughed. "Stop being a blame hog. Better yet, don't assign blame at all. You think you're the only one who has been controlled by someone? Heck, you don't even have a claim on the 'only person tempted by Savitar' title." She raised her cup to the room. "You are in good company."

Barry and Iris chose that moment to crash through the front door, laughing and kissing. The sudden influx of snow caused shouts of dismay as Iris fumbled with the door and Barry tossed their coats onto the couch. "What'd we miss?" the speedster asked, flushed with some unknown victory.

Cisco hiccuped, then filled him in. "Joe and the hot DA are having some smooching time in some unknown location. HR is long gone, and drunk Wally is a lovesick Wally. Please, Wally, repeat what you just said 'bout Jesse for everyone else."

Wally, deeply embarrassed, sunk deeply into his chair, a hardly noticeable blush creeping across his face.

Caitlin raised a finger. "Julian's blaming himself for everything," she said in a sing-song tone. "And he's wrong."

Barry's happy features rearranged themselves into stern ones. "Don't go down the Ollie road of brood. Seriously. Been there, done that. Mucho badness."

Ollie road of brood?

Before he could really pull away, Barry was already pulling up a few chairs around the little side table. In wordless agreement, Cisco grabbed one two, and soon, the four of them were gathered around the far too small table with their knees pulled up to their chests like children.

Wally refrained from joining, clearly very comfortable in the armchair. "I'll listen to your embarrassing stories from here," he had said.

Barry drew in a deep breath, as if he was going to give a grand speech, then Cisco interrupted whatever he had planned on saying. "Raise your hand if you have ever been victimised by Regina George-I mean, by some form of mind-control.

Barry, Caitlin, and Wally dutifully raised a hand.

"By different people?"

Wally put his hand down.

"See," cried Cisco triumphantly. "Not alone."

The part of his brain dedicated to scientific pursuits stirred in the back of his brain. "Are metahumans just more likely to have powers that extend to mind-altering?"

Barry shrugged. "Powers usually depend on the situation that gave a person their powers. It's more likely that their powers give them control over an aspect of the molecular structure of their own body, or control over the environment around them, not control over someone else. Putting it into perspective, powers that involve mind-control are pretty rare." He held up his hand and began reeling names off. "Rainbow Raider wasn't so much control as it was control over emotions. Grodd, though he's not really a metahuman. Savitar," he added hastily. "I think that sums it up."

Cailin daintily put her drink down. "The Dominators had a device that controlled minds."

The Dominators?

Barry made a little, "ooh," sound of acknowledgement. "Kara said that there was some substance on her earth that had a similar effect that Rainbow Raider had. A mineral, I think."

He decided not to ask.

Iris came back from the kitchen with more food. "Not too loud, guys. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean that Dad and the DA might not come back into hearing range." After seeing that there wasn't much room at the table, she promptly dropped herself right onto Wally, who grunted in surprise at the unexpected weight.

"Whyyyy," the younger man groaned as his sister made herself comfortable on top of him.

Iris responded by draping a blanket over them both.

No matter how many assurances were sent his way that he was not to blame, he would still feel a great measure of guilt. He would still question his decisions, pore over the crime scene photos, go to the gravesites of every single person caught in the crossfire, starting with the expedition members.

First he would find out why Savitar picked him. Then he would find out the significance of the people that he-Dr. Alchemy-picked to become metas. There was also the matter of finding out who made sure that he was not investigated for the murders of the members of the expedition. Cult members too- he would track down and catch every single one of them.

He wasn't ready to put the cloak back on-not yet. Not for a while. Sooner or later though, they might need something to draw all of his followers out.

He'd be ready.

There it is! Feels unusual to do something Flash related without my frequent collaborator, Mumble. In fact, I think this is the first time I've posted here in The Flash archives without it being from our joint account. Hope you liked it!