A/N: Yes, I'm lame and couldn't come up with a more creative title, but I can't help it. This fic is literally my take on the flashpoint SL coming up in the show this fall. I know a lot of people have been writing their own spin on this, but I really want to get mine out there and I'm really inspired, so I hope you enjoy it! This picks up right where the show left off with Barry reassuring his mom she's going to be okay at the end of the season 2 finale.

*Big love to my westallen writer and fandom friends who have been so encouraging and supportive with this venture. It means more than you know.

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

…

Chapter 1 – Rewriting History

Barry's heart beat gradually began to slow down, but his emotions were swimming from one to the next before he had a chance to think about it. So, he concentrated on the one thing in his vision and focused.

"Who…who are you?" Nora Allen asked. Her voice was still a little shaky but the tears had stopped flowing.

"I'm…" he started, but then found he couldn't finish.

Could he tell her he was her son? Could he tell her – hey, I'm the Flash, a superhero from the future. I traveled back in time to save your life from a supervillain even farther away into the future than I am – was.

"Are you hurt?" he opted for instead, getting on his knees so he was right across from her.

He wanted so badly to hold her, to tell her who he was, to start his new life now. But he wasn't sure if changing the timeline so far back worked that way. It certainly hadn't for Wells when he'd found himself stuck in a time that was potentially centuries before he was even born.

It wasn't like the first time Barry had gone back only to say goodbye to his mother either. Then he had revealed his true face, but only because she was moments away from dying. He didn't know if it was safe to do that now.

Seeing himself fade away in the doorway across the room just moments earlier had shook him up. He wouldn't let it sink in now though. He refused to.

Nora Allen shook her head.

"No." Her glistening eyes turned to look into the corner where the reverse flash lay still unconscious. "Who is he?" she asked, and then looked back at Barry. "Do you know him?"

He hesitated, then said, "I know him."

"Should I call the police?"

Barry barely contained an amused laugh, despite the circumstances. How easy would it be for Eobard Thawne to escape the grips of some normal every day very much only human police officers?

But then, he considered how exactly his parents should deal with the situation moving forward? His father was knocked out on the floor and the room itself looked like there had been some sort of tussle; some glass had been broken, but otherwise everything appeared normal.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous."

Her gaze was pinned to his. Her bottom lip quivered in fear and she swallowed hard.

"There's no need to be afraid," he said, and laid his hand gently on hers, relieved when she didn't flinch away from him. "But you have to trust me when I say there's nothing the police can do. This guy, he—"

And then they both heard a groan. To their horror, it did not emanate from Henry Allen.

Nora started to scoot away as Barry slowly got to his feet, both staring hard at the villain in the corner.

"Stay here," Barry said, not looking at his mother. Eobard moved again, his limbs shifting and his eyes starting to blink open. "Just promise me you won't tell anyone about what happened here tonight. Not even the cops."

"What are you going to do?" she asked on barely a whisper, her eyes watching the yellow figure like a hawk.

He turned to look at her. "Promise me."

She nodded. "I promise. W-wait!" she called out when Barry started to approach the man in yellow. He turned to face her again, urgency vibrating through him. "Barry. My son. He's just eleven years old. And I don't…" She looked around the room. "I don't see him anywhere. Did he go upstairs or…Barry? Barry!" She called out. "Where is…where is Barry?" She looked at him with a desperation that seemed to indicate she thought he knew.

Barry came to her and gently gripped her arms.

"He's not far," he said.

Her brows furrowed. "But where—"

"He's coming home."

Before she could ask any more questions, he had dashed to the corner of the room, lifted up the evil Eobard Thawne in his arms and flashed out of the house, not stopping for several miles until they were in a desolate place far from the city.

…

This time when Barry threw him across a wide space, Eobard didn't fall into unconsciousness. Probably because it was grass and not a hard wall, but that was yet to be decided. Perhaps he was simply more prepared now.

"You didn't kill me," Barry said. "And you didn't kill my mother."

Eobard groaned, getting to his feet.

"You lost."

He opened his eyes and watched Barry for a moment before peeling back his mask.

"You're not the Barry I was fighting tonight," he said.

Barry was taken aback, but tried not to show it.

"The Barry Allen I know is fast, but he didn't know I would try to kill Nora Allen as soon as he left. He only knew I was trying to kill him." He paused and tilted his head, analyzing further. "But you knew." He started to smile. "Tell me, Barry Allen, what happens in the future I almost changed?"

Barry didn't take his mask off but he closed some of the distance between them.

"You don't win."

Eobard laughed. "Ah, but I do. And I will. See, I know you. It doesn't matter what timeline you're on, I know how you think. I know how you move. I know what you're going to do next. And I know that you are never, ever going to defeat me. And one day, Barry, I will kill you for everything that you've done to me."

Barry didn't know what to say. In Eobard's time there was a whole history between them that he didn't know about, between him and the Flash he'd crossed paths with moments before saving his mother. Eobard had guessed too much already about who he was. His only weapon was of what he knew about this night from his discovery of Eobard in Wells' body.

"Try going home," he said, "Reverse-Flash."

Barry pushed Eobard farther across the expanse of grass surrounding him, then turn and ran as hard and as fast as he could. Distantly behind him, he heard Eobard cry out in anguish and he knew the reason why.

He had lost his speed.

…

Barry was surprisingly out of breath when he reached the nearest police station to where he'd been. He knew he had to take action, whether he was able to get back to 2016 or whether he was stuck here for good. Eobard wouldn't win, and the first step in avoiding that was preventing the real Harrison Wells from losing his wife and his life simply because of his future accomplishments.

Barry flashed in and out of the precinct and hastily drew a sketch of Eobard Thawne. With no one at the front desk at the present time, he left the sketch and a note with it. A wanted man, convicted of many crimes, murders across all the states…etc, etc. It wasn't very substantial, but it would be enough to keep the cops, and the citizens of Central City on their toes.

He'd told his mother that she shouldn't call the police, and he'd firmly believed that was a good idea. Alerting the authorities would only put her in more danger. But with Eobard's speed gone, he couldn't simply escape as he'd been so used to before. He had to start from scratch, blend in. It would be harder to do that if people knew what he looked like and were likely to call him in to the police.

Of course, there would be no point to this extra security if Thawne simply got to Wells anyway and became him. It wouldn't matter if his sketch was everywhere, because he would no longer look like himself.

So, he took one final step, and after that he assured himself he would return home, at least to make sure his family was whole again.

He searched his mind for the location of the car crash, recalled where Harrison and Tess Wells had lived at the time and ran there as fast as he could. The lights were on in the upstairs of the house. Barry saw their shadows from the street – a man and a woman. There was only one window with lights on and blinds not drawn down. When the man walked in front of it to shut the blinds, Barry saw that it was him, the real Harrison Wells. He sighed in relief, hope soaring, and ducked behind a car until the lights had gone out.

He waited five minutes, ten, twenty. He felt himself become drowsy and his hand started to vibrate of its own accord. It surprised Barry, but also alerted him to his mission. As stealthily as he could, he phased into the house and crept around in the dark inside the Wells kitchen. He found a notepad and pen and created another sketch of Thawne that he pinned to the refrigerator with a magnet.

On another piece of note paper, he wrote,

To Harrison Wells and Tess Morgan,

You don't know me, but please take my message very seriously.

There is a very dangerous man in your area. His name is Eobard Thawne, but he will probably give himself an alias, so he is not discovered.

He has targeted you for the work he believes you will do, and he will not stop until you are both dead. If you ever see him, tell the police and immediately move. The authorities should know, but they can only do so much against the evil this man inflicts on his victims. It sounds drastic, but the alternative to being wrong is far worse.

I have drawn a sketch for you of what he looks like. The police have one as well. I hope in time he will pay for his crimes and that my fear for both of you is unnecessary, but please take precautions.

I look forward to meeting you one day in your laboratory.

-Flash

Barry hesitated, wondering if he should've used a pencil, if he should've called himself something other than Flash. He could've put friendly neighbor maybe, or from one citizen to another. Leaving his true name wasn't an option because that would immediately draw suspicion. His younger self, if ever called upon, would have no recollection of what he was doing now.

A wave of nausea hit him before he could second guess himself again. He blinked and tried to steady himself. Then he set the note and sketch together underneath the magnet stuck to the fridge.

He knew any normal person would be more alarmed by the fact that someone had been in their house than pay attention to the message, let alone consider it a true cause for concern. Either that or they would assume some friend they knew had written it and brush it aside as a joke of some sort. Barry hoped this doctor wells would be able to rise above it and see the necessity for some precautions.

If he didn't, when he came face to face with Eobard the next time, it would be in the same form he'd first seen him. Barry honestly wished he had known the real Harrison Wells, the one whose life hadn't been ruthlessly stolen from him.

But now Barry ran. His duty complete, he dashed out of the house and kept running. He had to reach his childhood home. He had to get somewhere out of the vicinity. Something was happening to him. He was fading, faltering; he felt sick to his stomach. His vision was starting to cloud, colors were starting to darken.

He didn't feel his feet stop moving or his heart stop pumping. He didn't feel himself hitting the ground or running into some unseen obstacle. He didn't feel water or ground or air. The black abyss was closing in around him and his eyes shut.

In those final moments he saw flashes of his life.

His younger self running down to see what was going on in the living room after hearing the terrified screams of his mother.

Eobard Thawne taunting him not more than half an hour ago, even though he had lost his speed, regardless of the fact he didn't realize it yet.

And before he left, before he changed everything, he saw them…

Joe, Cisco, Caitlin, Wally… Iris.

He saw Iris.

Her deep brown eyes and her honest, loyal heart.

Her lips, her voice, her…

"I love you, Barry."

And then he was gone.

…

A/N: Hope you enjoyed my first chap! It should be noted that while Barry & Iris's relationship will play a key role in this story, I am going to get into everything that's changed, not just them.

Thank-you for reading. Happy reviews are love.