Aaaaand we're back. I really appreciate the feedback on After Hours, and decided to continue this. Will probably be about nine or ten chapters for what I'm envisioning, picking up essentially a few days after the end of The Man in the Yellow Suit. This is going to be predominantly from Wendy's POV, as I want to keep our lovely Dr. Wells as much of an enigma as possible, and to see an outsider's perspective on Team Flash. Let me know your thoughts :)

X X X

One: Chaos Theory

"Chaos is the score upon which reality is written." –Henry Miller

X X X

"Nora, I'm not so sure about this."

Wendy stared at herself in her friend's full length mirror, eyeing her reflection with mild suspicion. While she felt incredibly indebted to Nora and all the woman had done for her since she started working at Central City Hospital, Wendy was nearly certain this was pushing the obligations of their friendship. After all, she was pre-med the last time she'd gone on a blind date – and it had ended just as comically ridiculous as any date she'd ever had.

"Nonsense!" Nora called from down the hall. "Don't forget the boots by the door and get out here! Pete should be here any minute."

The fact that her blind date was named Peter – Pete for short – did not escape her notice, either. At least it would be a funny lead in to recount the date, should the date evening with her wishing that her friend, Nora Emerson, RN, was not trying to take on a second career as her personal match maker.

Despite Nora's efforts to improve her love life, Wendy really was grateful for her. After working as a doctor for several years, making the switch to become a nurse had been more difficult than she had anticipated. The parameters for what she was now allowed to do on her own versus what she was capable of were narrower than when she was a doctor, and the restrictions took some getting used to. Pediatrics had been Wendy's natural inclination, as she'd always found working with children to be less stressful than working with adults. And being stationed on an inpatient ward was the farthest thing from trauma care she could think of. Nora had been her patient guide through all of it, and Wendy knew the woman's tutelage – hailing from over twenty years of nursing experience – was invaluable.

She just wished Nora wasn't so obsessed with setting her up on a date.

Wendy bent down to slide on the ankle boots Nora had laid out for her – for a woman in her 40s, she had far more fashion sense than Wendy – and looked herself over one last time in the mirror: the dark fitted jeans were hers, but Nora had loaned her a navy button-up blouse, yellow scarf and the cream-colored boots. She supposed she looked date-ready.

Picking up her pea coat off the bed (it was supposed to be in the 30s by later that night), Wendy headed down the hall and into the kitchen. Nora's face instantly lit up when she saw her.

"You look great, hun!" She said, smiling. "Elliott," she called to her husband, "She looks great!"

"What a relief," he deadpanned from where he was working in the den.

Wendy laughed, rubbing the side of her face as she tried not to let her nerves get the best of her. "Did Pete say where we were going?" She asked.

"La Faim, in downtown," came Elliott's response from the other room. "Three Michelin stars, I heard."

Wendy's eyes widened. She'd heard the other nursing staff talking about the new restaurant that had opened last week, and how incredibly hard it was already proving to even get a reservation – and that was where she was going to have dinner on a first date?

No pressure, Wendy thought.

"Certainly a step up from Big Belly Burger, am I right?" Nora winked.

Wendy started to shake her head, well aware of her less-than-stellar eating habits and how much Nora tsked her for them. Before she could say anything in her defense – that working graveyard, very little was open that time of night beyond fast food joints – the doorbell rang.

"That must be him!" Nora said, practically bouncing out of the kitchen to get the door.

"That," Elliott agreed as he entered the kitchen, "or we're about to be burgled."

Wendy couldn't help but shake her head, smiling to herself, as she listened to Nora greet who she assumed was her blind date in the other room. It felt like prom night, with Nora as her overexcited older sister and fairy godmother all wrapped in to one.

"I hope you have a good time tonight. Pete's a good guy," Elliott told her, nodding toward the door. "You deserve it, after everything you've been through."

Wendy's smile faltered a little at his words, but she nodded, despite the knots she felt forming in her stomach. She had confided in both of them about what had brought her to Central City in the first place, but it was rarely brought up.

"Thanks, Elliott," Wendy returned. "I hope so, too."

X X X

The greenhouse conservatory located just outside of Central City's metropolitan boundaries would be, on any other given night, a very peaceful place to spend one's time. Harrison Wells had never particularly found the appeal in walking amongst endless aisles of flora and fauna, but he had it on good recommendation from Caitlin that it could, in fact, be quite restorative. Cisco had actually been the first to relay this information to him, but he had taken it with a grain of salt at the time, as the young engineering prodigy had also been wearing his baseball cap backwards while attempting to do a skateboard trick in the lab at the time. Something called an "ollie," if memory served him correctly.

On this particular night, however, the conservatory was about to become the site of another test of Barry's abilities, and Harrison would be lying to himself if he didn't feel just a slight thrill at that prospect.

Even if there was a plant-wielding murderess on the loose.

He quirked his head, studying the monitors that were feeding live footage of various angles of the conservatory grounds. Although he already possessed extensive knowledge on this particular meta-human, he had withheld most of it during Barry, Caitlin and Cisco's initial investigation of the odd murders that had occurred in the city suburbs over the last few weeks. Harrison tried to justify their deaths by reasoning that they were – ultimately – unavoidable, as the victims in question still appeared in future death records as having perished on the dates that Detective West had provided in relation to the crimes.

Although it was sound logic, it still bothered him somehow. His future knowledge of the meta's kills might have saved her victims, but there was no guarantee. There were some things even he couldn't change, much as he hated to admit it. And he needed to see how far along Barry's latest ability was progressing – and the nearly deserted conservatory almost insured there would be no further casualties.

This was what Harrison told himself, even as he felt his stomach tighten a little in disgust. Sacrifices were never meant to be easy, he supposed.

"Are you guys seeing this?"

Barry's voice over the comms link snapped Harrison from his thoughts, and he focused his eyes back on the monitor. All was still – until he glanced movement at the edge of the screen. Bramble bushes began to branch out from where they lined the edges of the conservatory windows at an alarmingly fast rate. The fauna wasn't the issue when it came to this meta, but the poison of some of the flora that she could manipulate was.

"What am I dealing with here? Caitlin?" Barry's voice echoed throughout the lab.

Harrison glanced next to him where Caitlin, two monitors over, typed furiously across her keyboards.

"Rubus idaeus!" The doctor said affirmatively, nodding her head.

Harrison would have to remind her that Barry wasn't able to see her nod or shake her head (or deathly glares) when he was in the field.

Barry disappeared from the monitor momentarily to avoid the brambles attempting to ensnare him, and Harrison caught him on another angle outside the greenhouse.

"You say that like I speak Latin," Barry called, a little breathless. "Will it kill me or not?"

"Only if you're allergic to raspberries," Caitlin responded. "Which you're not, because I've reviewed all your medical records multiple times–"

"Caitlin," Harrison interrupted, his eyes still on Barry, who was now flying into action to shred the harmless brambles into confetti. "A list of all poisonous species kept at the conservatory, please," he requested.

"Right," Caitlin said, and went to work. "On it."

X X X

"Would you like another glass of the St. Julien?"

Wendy looked up from her plate, glancing at the waiter holding out the opened bottle of red wine Pete had ordered at the beginning of the meal. She looked at her date across from her, who was just finishing off his second glass and seemed to be awaiting her response as well.

She knew he was leaving it up to her, whether or not she wanted a second glass before dessert arrived. If you'd asked her while she'd been getting ready for the date, she would've declined. But Pete had turned out to be a pleasant surprise thus far – smart, witty, and not too hard on the eyes, either, with his light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He worked with Elliott as a engineer but was already on his way to becoming the man's superior, but the success didn't seem to go to his head. In fact, it seemed to humble him, if anything.

"Yeah, thanks," Wendy answered and saw Pete sit up a little straighter across from her, smiling at her affirmative.

After filling her glass, the waiter whisked off again with the promise to return with their dessert orders soon.

La Faim was fairly busy when they'd first arrived. The modern layout of the restaurant was open and airy and possessed surprisingly good acoustics – Wendy supposed that was par for the course for a place that had garnered such rave reviews before it'd even officially opened. Pete had secured them a table by the floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the busy evening streets. The soft lighting from within and the Christmas lights that adorned the lampposts outside cast a warm and festive glow over their table. Traffic had wound down as the night went on, and Wendy had to admit, she wasn't paying much attention to the time.

"So, you like the wine?" Pete asked as she took a sip.

Wendy nodded appreciatively, setting the down the glass. "I've had Bordeauxs. . .but this one is really great. Have you had it before?"

Pete looked down, and the action seemed almost self-conscious to Wendy – though she couldn't fathom what he could be self-conscious about. It had been an excellent choice and had gone perfectly with the veal she'd ordered for dinner.

"Yeah, it's kind of a hobby of mine – of my family's, too," he replied, vague.

Wendy tilted her head, interested. "Hobby?"

Pete bit his lip before answering, and Wendy found the action endearing. How could he still be nervous with dessert on the way? Conversation had been easy between them since they sat down, allowing Wendy to forget the time, to enjoy what was her Friday evening before a long weekend. She didn't have to be back at the hospital for five days, her schedule having switched at the start of December. She certainly didn't feel nervous, just a pleasant sense of being at ease.

"Maybe legacy is more of a better word," Pete elaborated after a beat.

Wendy's eyes widened and she leaned in, despite herself. She wasn't lying when she'd said she felt rusty when it came to dating, but two glasses of that Bordeaux seemed to be working wonders on her.

"Well, now you have to tell me more," she said, almost conspiratorially.

Pete laughed, and it sounded incredibly pleasant to Wendy's ears. "My father owns land near Bordeaux in France."

She blinked, and then looked at the label of the wine bottle on the table, and then back at Pete. She hadn't been expecting that.

"Your family owns St. Julien?" She asked, impressed. Nora and Elliott certainly hadn't mentioned that. But then again, by the way Pete was self-consciously rubbing the side of his neck now, perhaps even he hadn't told them.

"It's not something I generally like to broadcast," Pete explained, confirming her thoughts. "But Nora mentioned you were a fan of red wine."

"She did, did she?" Wendy said, smiling despite herself. "What else did she tell you?"

Pete didn't hesitate with his answer, eyes completely on her. "That you're one of the brightest people she's ever worked with. That the kids at the hospital love you."

The compliments made her blush profusely, and Wendy wondered if Nora had told him about how easily embarrassed she became, too, whenever the spotlight was on her.

"Nora's really sweet," Wendy started to say, but Pete interjected.

"She's right, though," he said gently, as if sensing her embarrassment from just a moment ago. "How could the kids not be crazy about you?" He leaned forward, gesturing toward her with one hand. "You gave up a career as a doctor to devote more time to your patients as a nurse."

Gave up. She supposed that was one way of putting it. It sounded better than abandoned. . .the reminder of her career change made Wendy wince inwardly, and she looked down. She knew he meant well by his words, but it was still a tender subject for her, even over a year later. She wasn't sure if it would ever be something that didn't make her flinch. Obviously Nora hadn't told him why she'd become a nurse.

"Hey," she heard Pete say as he reached out to touch her hand.

Wendy looked up to meet his eyes, and was touched by the concern she saw in them. She was about to say something else, something placating, when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. It was a split second before she registered the bright, careening flashes as they claimed her full attention: headlights.

It was a car, a hulking one, and it was barreling straight toward her, the restaurant and everyone inside.

"Pete–!"

There was screeching, the blaring of car horns (more than one?), the sound of a million shards of glass shattering in symphony as the headlights overwhelmed her vision, and then screaming.

X X X

"You have got to be kidding me, Caitlin!"

Barry sounded shrill even over the comms and, if the situation weren't so dire, Harrison might have smirked at the crack Cisco made about the kid not having made it through puberty yet. He definitely wouldn't have smiled.

"The plants she controls feed off of the oxygen in the surrounding environment. Deprive her of her energy source, and you deprive her of her power," Caitlin relayed urgently, her hand nearly crushing the neck of the mic she spoke through.

The meta human was somewhere in the main conservatory with Barry, but her camouflaging abilities were proving to be more than just a minor obstacle than they'd first calculated. She'd already tried to take him out with several poisonous bulbs and trap him with a genetically enhanced genus of ivy whose branches possessed incredibly high tensile strength.

Their best chance was to trap her in the conservatory, and then detain her beneath the lab in their makeshift prison.

"I know how the chemistry of it works, I do happen to have a Master's in biochem–" Barry began, defending himself.

"Then what's the problem?!" Caitlin admonished, eyes widening from her frustration.

"I just can't destroy the place! Iris loves–"

"Seriously, dude, not the time to be thinking of your lady love," Cisco cut in.

Harrison refrained from rolling his eyes, silencing him with a look as he moved up next to Caitlin, taking the mic from her. She was quiet, but he could see the anger in the set of her jaw, arms crossed. Barry was going to pay for that remark later.

"Barry, you can contain the flames to the cleared pathways throughout the greenhouse," Harrison told him levelly. "You already know how."

"I do?" Barry asked over the comms.

This was never going to work long-term unless he started believing in himself, and Harrison needed him to do that now – when he was under pressure, and didn't have a steady backup plan to rely on. The future remained on shaky ground, always.

"Tornadogenesis!" Barry breathed after a moment, and Harrison watched as he flew into action, relaxing a little. The natural friction from his speed was enough to spark a fire, and it quickly filled all their screens. The flames grew in circular patterns as they cascaded upward towards the high glass ceilings, but they were contained to where Barry directed them. The fire leached nearly every atom of the oxygen from the environment, but not enough to cause him to lose consciousness. Not yet anyway.

The meta human materialized in the corner of one of the monitors, unable to maintain her camouflage, and before Harrison could draw another breath, the Flash streaked across the screen and the not-so-environmentally friendly murderess was bound in the electrical cuffs that Cisco had designed for their future captives a few weeks ago.

Harrison sat back as Barry disappeared with the cuffed meta human from the screen, and smiled.

"Wow," Cisco breathed, wholly impressed. "That's a new one under the abilities column."

Caitlin didn't say anything, but Harrison could see the appreciative look in her eyes as she kept her eyes resolution on the monitors. The flames were but embers now without Barry there to funnel them into life.

Harrison was about to leave and make his way down the detainment chamber when he saw Cisco's face fall, the young man's normal joviality turned to a worried frown.

"Cisco?" He said, Caitlin picking up on his change in demeanor as well. "What's wrong?"

Cisco looked at him, gesturing toward the screen. "Felicity routed us in to the police scanners in case of city-wide emergencies that Barry might be able to diffuse."

Harrison perked up at that, his jaw setting in mild irritation. While he appreciated Felicity's efforts to assist them in their endeavors, Harrison knew how extensive her capabilities were, and how much more powerful they would become. He would have to do a thorough sweep of the systems to ensure she didn't install anything that would jeopardize his work. Felicity Smoak was a genius, but she hadn't seen the whole picture. Yet.

"All of them?" Caitlin said, sounding impressed, as she walked up behind him to glance over his shoulder.

Cisco winced. "Looks like it's a pretty bad wreck on Main."

"Oh my. . ." Caitlin said, reading from the bulletin on the screen. "Three cars crashed into a restaurant? How could that have happened? Rush hour's over."

There was a snap in the air, and some of the files on the desk fluttered as Barry appeared before them, momentarily oblivious to their concern. "What do you think of. . ." he paused, and held up his hands, as if framing a sign, ". . .Poison Ivy?"

When no one immediately responded, Barry paused, taking in the morose looks on his colleagues' faces. "Who died, guys?" He said, half-joking, half-wary.

"I think you need to get downtown," Harrison told him, eyes flitting to the monitor. Civilian assignments only seemed to improve Barry's desire to help others and dedicate himself to the development of his abilities. "There's been an accident."

According to the report, there were already seven pronounced dead at the scene; including two children. He was never happy to see that.

Barry's face changed immediately, taking on a hard, determined edge. And in the next moment, he was gone.

X X X

There was light and harsh sound all around her that made her flinch as she woke, even though her eyes were still closed. She hadn't remembered falling asleep, but that wasn't uncommon with how many doubles she'd been pulling lately. That still didn't explain the sound, though. . .and the lights. . .why were there so many colored lights just beyond her eyelids? The only lamps she had in her apartment emitted a soft, golden glow.

Her eyes fluttered open, an influx of light flooding her vision. It blinded her for a second until she focused and realized, belatedly, that she was staring at a strange ceiling light. Strange, because it wasn't like the ones in her apartment. They were like the lights that had adorned the ceilings of La Faim.

She felt her heart jolt within her chest, and she began to sit up, relieved that she could move at all. Her neck was incredibly stiff, but she could wiggle her fingers and toes. That was a good sign. Memories started surfacing in flashes as she swallowed, her throat incredibly dry. . .she had been eating dinner. With Pete. They had been talking about wine and her career.

"Ma'am, please stay where you are," a voice from somewhere above floated down to her, gently pressing her back down on her back. "Try not to move. We're going to get you out of here as soon as we can."

It didn't make sense. Why was she staring at the ceiling? Where was Pete? And why did everything sound fuzzy to her? She had perfect hearing, last she checked.

She tried to crane her neck, and was met with a sharp pain that lanced up into the base of her skull. She groaned, and felt hands palpate along her neck, just under her jaw. Her body was sore, but she could move her limbs and her vision seemed alright. At least for the moment.

Where was Pete?

She tried to roll over, despite what the voice had told her, cringing as she heard glass crunch beneath her bare arms (the blouse Nora had loaned her had been sleeveless, right? That's why she felt the shards on her skin.) They didn't cut into her, however, as she turned on her side, but she didn't pay any mind to that now. What she saw then made her wished she'd never woken up in the first place.

Pete was lying just a few feet from her, two paramedics surrounding him as they pressed gauze onto his abdomen, preparing to slide him onto a gurney. His light blue dress shirt was soaked in dark red, darker than the Bordeaux they had been drinking earlier. The pool of blood he was lying in was big enough to fill a punch bowl, and it made her stomach turn. His head lolled to the side, eyes closed, mouth slightly open in unconsciousness.

Oh God, what had happened?

"Ma'am, I need you to turn on your back," the paramedic beside her was saying.

I'm fine, she wanted to tell him. I feel fine, though she had no idea how. She forced herself up onto her elbow, head swimming for a moment before it righted itself. Her eyes took in the utter chaos before her. A massive SUV several feet to her left, hood smoking, and another farther in, bodies of restaurant goers lay everywhere, some moving, some not. All of them looking beaten and bloodied like discarded rag dolls. Lights flickered and sparked. First responders were already there, and she saw several policeman as well. Glass and table cloths lay on the floor. Several of those beautiful modern ceiling lights hung on thin metal cords, one just above her head.

"Ma'am, please–"

But she waved him off, more forcefully this time. When she first opened her mouth, her throat was dry. Speaking hurt, but she swallowed, and tried again.

"Help them," she pleaded, pushing his hands away from her and staggering into a sitting position. "I'm fine, just help the others."

The paramedic looked reluctant, but one quick glance to the scene around them, and he nodded, grim, and left her to attend to another woman several feet off from her. A wave of nausea hit her then, and she shifted on to all fours to steady herself. She fell back to sit on her ankles, head continuing to swim. The paramedics were lifting Pete away toward a waiting ambulance outside on the street, and she watched, stunned and helpless as people and lights continued to move around her.

How the hell had she survived?