A/n: Okay, after watching the most recent chapter, I really couldn't resist writing a story between Barry of Earth-1 and Caitlin of Earth-2, especially because of how "broken" she feels to me. The whole part about her hating her name because it "reminded her of a weaker her", is so fun to play around with.
Follows the TV universe, except for Barry Allen of Earth-1 never meeting Caitlin Snow of Earth-2.
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Chapter: 1
"What do you want?" he demanded, but the scarlet speedster was granted neither acknowledgement nor response.
Black electricity crackled across the darkened speedster's powerful frame, his impassive features hidden beneath a menacing mask. He stood silently across from Barry Allen, unresponsive and inscrutable; yet beyond his enigmatic presence, there was no mistaking the air of effluvium that emanated from the motionless being; it resembled malevolence, a venomous air of hostility.
Barry Allen could feel the tremors in his veins, surging through like enhanced adrenaline, a compelling disquietude he was unable to suppress; a warning, from the Speed-force itself.
He blinked, and the man was in front of him, his head tilted curiously, his presence overwhelmingly malicious.
Barry took a step back, a sharp exhale before pain enveloped his every sense. The figure lanced forward, the sharpened claws he had for fingers tearing into Barry's shoulder, digging through sinew and flesh. There was an eruption of blood from the entry wound, but before gravity could apply its laws to the falling liquid, there was a vivid flash of colors, and the two were no longer there.
The darkened speedster launched forward, effortlessly dragging Barry along by his impaled shoulder, skidding him across rough gravel and scorched friction. As they came to a sudden stop, the forward momentum launched the unwilling passenger into the air, smashing him into a vacant vehicle, the impact crushing the metal inward, caving him inside the twisted metal.
Something broke, and he couldn't move; his every extremity felt detached, useless. A gloved hand reached for him, pulling him out of the mangled wreckage. It lifted him into the air like a helpless rag doll, at the complete mercy of the darkened speedster.
"The Flash…" the being spoke, its voice dripping with animosity, "I have broken you…"
It reached for his mask, a single claw digging into fabric and flesh, tearing a straight line down Barry's face; he screamed, mask torn away as a line of blood drew down the scar's path.
"Weak…" the being hissed, his gripping tightening around Barry's neck, "you are nothing."
Darkness grew, Barry's vision fading as he clawed futilely at the hands that held him still. His legs swung helplessly, dangling off the ground, the pressure in his lungs increasing with each passing second. His body convulsed violently, desperate for air, the pressure expanding to a sharp pain, an agonizing wave that quickly engulfed him whole.
He gasped excruciatingly, and a sudden heaviness descended upon him; he was floating, and there was the oddest sensation, as though he was a passenger on a vessel's final trek. Barry Allen was vaguely aware of how tired he was; he had spent the last few years of his life fighting a myriad of different threats, perhaps it was finally his time to rest.
Yet before he could succumb to the temptations of wishful rest, there was a sudden throb as energy came spilling back into his every fiber, as sensations returned a million-fold and burned with the intensity of a dying star.
"Death would be a blessing…"
He fell, crumpled against the pavement, his body battered and broken.
The darkened speedster kneeled beside him, arm pressed against his spine, "The Flash… is no more."
There was a loud snap, as Barry's face twisted in agony, his jaw stretched in a soundless scream.
He was granted no reprieve, as Zoom picked up him in the next second and threw him forward.
He flew through the air, but the ground never came up to meet him, just wind. A torrential fury that wrapped around him like a cocoon, protecting him from the currents that tore and threatened his every existence. He saw an eruption of colors, and they were as blue as they were red, and green as they were yellow. The waves collided against the other, a growing symphony that guided his fall, an explosion at its crescendo that seemingly tore apart his every atom and re-merged them at the last possible second.
He was whole once more, and the floor greeted him with a painful crash, rough asphalt biting into his palms. The sounds of a passing monorail rumbled in the skies above , the reverberating tremors of the ground amplified the fiery pulses across his shoulder, a jarring screech that brought him back to reality. He quivered, eyes piercing through the darkened mist that shrouded his vision, and was greeted with a world same, yet inexplicable different from his.
Barry tried to move, but all he managed was a pathetic twitch before the surrounding darkness consumed him whole.
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He was floating for the longest time, in pools of black that held neither surface nor end; an empty expanse that stretched further than his consciousness could grasp.
When he eventually woke from his tired slumber, the first thing he noticed was the cold. An unnatural presence, an abnormality he couldn't exactly explain; it was cold, but unlike the frigidness of ice, it was instead an aberrant wave of frost.
He blinked a few times, his blurred vision slowly starting to focus; he was in a dreary room. Dirtied curtains hung pathetically beside a faded drawer that rested against stained walls. There was also a metal door that led to the outside, an old television that belonged to the previous century.
He was in an old motel room. He pulled back the blankets, revealing most of his heavily bandaged form. Everything hurt, a dull throb that started to build upon his awakening, but it wasn't horrible, it felt like someone had injected him with a series of anaesthetic while he slept. He tried to get off the bed, but he soon realized that other than the slight wiggling of his toes, his legs were otherwise unresponsive.
He pulled himself up into a sitting posture, his face pressed into his palm. He could remember the events that led up to his unconsciousness, his defeat by Zoom's hand and his arrival on Earth-2, but there remained no recollection of what followed next. Someone moved him into the motel room, and as far as he could see, tended to his wounds and cleaned his injuries.
He had no allies on Earth-2, not while Jay and Harrison remained on Earth-1. They had closed all the breaches except one, but the remaining breach can only be opened from Earth-2 by Zoom. There was nothing they could do to help him, he was entirely alone.
A soft click came from the entranceway, the sound of clinking keys as the doorknob started to turn. Barry tried to reach for something he could use as a weapon, but there was nothing within his grasp. He turned towards the bedside lamp, hoping to wield it as a blunt weapon of some sort, but it was beyond his reach, he was hindered by his useless legs. He stretched desperately, the bed creaked loudly and he was suddenly falling, crashing painfully onto the floor below.
Barry groaned as his arm pressed against the side of his rib, where it took the blunt of his fall. It felt wet, his wounds must have reopened from his fall. It was a peculiar sensation, his wounds usually healed a lot quicker.
"What the hell are you doing?"
It was a female's voice, a familiar tune. He turned towards her, his jaw gaping open in surprise.
"Caitlin?"
It was her, Caitlin Snow - Bio-engineer at S.T.A.R. labs and a member of team Flash, someone he could trust with his life.
Except it wasn't.
The Caitlin Snow he knew, she was back on Earth-1. This was someone else, a person with the same face and voice, someone so similar, yet inexplicably different.
He noticed her lips twitching at the sound of her name, "That is not my name."
The Caitlin he knew could be described with the word, 'tidy'. She was prim and proper, always well-dressed and formal. This Caitlin however, was almost the complete opposite. Instead of her usual neatness, her hair was grown out and wild, her clothing seemed hastily thrown on and her makeup felt particularly aggressive, powerful colors that the Caitlin he knew would never don.
She was also pale, a lot paler than her Earth-1 counterpart, her skin almost translucent, as though never graced by the sun's touch.
The door was quickly closed behind her.
"What are you doing on the floor?" She hissed, unamused at his predicament.
"I… I…" he spluttered, "I fell?"
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