Summary: Hartley was absolutely certain he was doing the right thing in taking vengeance against Harrison Wells but now that he's in Team Flash's custody, he's growing less and less sure. Not because he's any less angry with Wells, but because now he has to think about what happens to everyone else who'd be caught in the fallout.
Hartmon Fest 2019:
– Feb 26th - Hartley character fic
– Feb 21st - alternate timelines
Notes: While this isn't the main story I've got planned involving Hartley's army of plushy rats, this is something of a stepping stone between Barry being the world's weirdest messenger pigeon and where the army of rats are planned to show up. (Early season 2 for that future story.)
Plot points to keep in mind for this story/verse:
* The pipeline is for temporary purposes only and not actually intended for long term incarceration; they've been sending everyone to Iron Heights. Hartley is the exception because of the temporal paradox and them needing him to help deal with the time wraith.
* Future Barry brought a message from future Cisco back to present Cisco to encourage him to trust Hartley and also preserve the predestination paradox. Some of the plot points (and a little dialogue) here come from the episode "Crazy For You".
* However, the storyline involving Shawna isn't seen here, though it can be assumed that her prison break for her boyfriend occurred the night before the final scene, they're just not aware of it yet.
This is Part 2 in The Pied Piper's Army of Rats series
Warnings: Claustrophobia in the first section and some discussion about ableism towards the end
Changing Priorities
With the door to Hartley's initial cell badly cracked, Team Flash ended up bundling Hartley off to an identical looking cell with an intact door. Along the way, however, they brought Hartley to the cortex and struck a deal with him. He helped them build a device to ward off the Time Wraith when it made a comeback and they wouldn't drop him off at the police station. Instead he'd stay in the pipeline for a somewhere from a few weeks to a few months (depending, of course, on how long it took him to convince them he wasn't still a threat to Wells and the Flash) and work in the labs under supervision.
Hartley agreed quickly. The last thing he wanted was an official record or having to face his parents again... because he would, even if it was just so they could disdainfully dismiss him while refusing to press charges. And they would refuse, if they knew Hartley was the one responsible for the damage to their building, because doing otherwise would mean having to publicly acknowledge that he still existed. Staying at STAR Labs had other perks to it, however. The pipeline cell, bare bones though it was, still looked to be cleaner and warmer than the warehouse he'd been squatting in and it put him close to his real target... the data on the particle accelerator that proved it had been doomed to fail from the start.
His original plan had been to plant a virus in the STAR computers and mask it by making it look like he was after the Flash's frequency data. He'd have still needed to go after the Flash a second time to really sell the ruse so that no one would think to check for the secondary hack. Now he could plant the virus at his leisure and maybe even expose the truth to Cisco and Caitlin directly... in the unlikely event that he thought they might actually listen. Though even if all he did was plant seeds of doubt...
It was worth thinking about, anyway.
The Flash - aka Barry Allen - was an unknown quantity, relatively speaking, but he seemed to hero worship Wells as much as the rest. Maybe more so, since he was so new. Hartley remembered what it was like, being the center of Wells' attention. It had taken him months to get over feeling flustered every time his mentor – his hero – entrusted him with a new task or new authority or wanted Hartley's opinion on something. He could only imagine how much more loyalty Wells inspired by molding Allen into a literal super hero.
There was one thing, however, that Hartley had forgotten to factor into his plans.
The pipeline cell was small. Ridiculously small. With it attached to the access corridor, he'd been fine. All he had to do was look out the door to see that there was plenty of space. But the cell got moved in the night, spinning around to connect to a little bathroom unit – toilet and sink with the whole floor being the shower pan, so technically it was a wet-room. It was dark in the tiny bathroom unless Hartley was in there and... Hartley could barely do anything in there before fleeing back to the marginally larger cell, breathing hard and curling up on the center of the floor.
Wells knew Hartley was claustrophobic, the bastard, and he hadn't said a damn thing. But then of course he wouldn't. He probably wanted Hartley to suffer.
When Hartley could breathe normally again, he sat up and stared balefully at the tiny bathroom unit. He wanted a shower. Even though he'd be redressing in the exact clothes he was wearing now, the day had been stressful and he wanted to feel clean. But he could barely use the bathroom for the toilet and he didn't even want to contemplate how he was going to pull off brushing his teeth. Showering, which should have been a treat, was going to suck.
But, somehow, Hartley managed to push himself to take care of his nightly routine, and the shower was tolerable as long as he faced the glass door and kept his eyes trained on the marginally bigger room beyond (and the empty space beyond that, though it was already dark in there). He was still toweling his hair dry, sitting in the center of the main cell, when the lights went out.
Hartley went rigid, blinking in the dark, heart hammering in his chest. The small room suddenly felt oppressively tiny.
Oh god... oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod...
He started muttering to himself the first mantra that came to mind. The Apostle's Creed, the Lord's Prayer, three Hail Marys... by the time Hartley started reciting Glory Be, he realized he was saying the rosary. He hadn't recited one of those since before he was disowned. Being turned out by his family had soured his view of Catholicism and he'd been lapsed for years, believing something more akin to being agnostic when he bothered to think of religion at all. But there was something comforting about the prayers, so Hartley felt around for where Caitlin had told him the blankets and pillows were stored while continuing to recite the prayers, transitioning into the decades and keeping a mental count of the number of times he recited Hail Mary. He wished he had an actual rosary to track the prayers with his fingers on the beads; something physical to help ground him further. Even without the beads, however, concentrating on the remembered ritual of the prayers quieted his frightened mind and, by the time Hartley was curled back up in the center of the room (this time with blankets and pillows and some measure of comfort), he felt calmer and less like the walls would close in on him.
Maybe... maybe he could ask for a set of rosary beads in the morning. Caitlin probably wouldn't ask too many questions and rosaries were cheap enough that no one was likely to complain about the cost. And if the rosary helped him manage his phobia, then there was no way Caitlin wouldn't get it for him.
He would panic again, Hartley knew. After Earl, small spaces... he couldn't...
A little louder, Hartley determinedly recited, "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee." Concentrate on the prayers, he told himself. Just the prayers. Not the darkness or the small square footage or memories of Earl. "Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus." Think about Jerrie instead; think about the first time they'd said the rosary together without her losing her place and how proud she'd looked when they finished. "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, amen."
"Hart, I did it! I said the whole thing. Didn't lose my place. Not once!"
"You did great, Jer."
He finished the second decade with another Glory Be and breathed a little easier as he transitioned into the next set with the Lord's Prayer.
Jerrie had been excited for her first communion, wanting to be able to do everything her big brother did. They used to read the bible together every weekend night, Hartley skipping over the boring passages for the most interesting stories that would hold his little sister's attention better. He missed her so much... though they'd remained in touch via email, he hadn't seen her since their parents kicked him out. She'd be eighteen soon and Hartley only knew what she looked like because she sent him a copy of her school photograph every spring.
Hartley's heart ached a little over the thoughts of his sister, but better to be mourning the distance that had been forced between them than having a panic attack. It reminded him that he had another thing to ask for, though. Access to his email account to keep in contact with Jerrie. He'd probably have to let them read his emails, but it'd be worth it to keep her from thinking he was abandoning her, and so close to her eighteenth birthday too. As long as it wasn't Wells...
It took several more full recitations of the rosary, but Hartley did eventually fall asleep in that tiny, dark room.
"Dude, you look terrible."
Just Hartley's luck that it was Cisco, not Caitlin, who showed up to let him out in the morning. Cisco put a set of cuffs – magnetic cuffs by the look of them – into the little chamber probably meant to pass food over.
"Put those on first and then you can come out of cell, okay?"
Wordless, Hartley obeyed, holding up his wrists for inspection when he was done. Cisco opened the door and stood aside to let Hartley pass by into the hallway.
"Seriously, you look like crap."
"I didn't get much sleep," Hartley responded dryly. He intended to complain about how uncomfortable the floor was, but the words that came out instead were "I'm claustrophobic."
Cisco's eyes widened and he glanced into the cell guiltily. "You are?" Under his breath he muttered "shit..."
"The bathroom is actually worse than the cell," he muttered, uncomfortable and feeling a little closed in even in the corridor. He'd woken when the lights came on hours earlier and ended up testing his memory on things like the Beatitudes, the Act of Contrition, the Stations of the Cross, the Liturgy of the Eucharist... the recitations had given him something to concentrate other than his fears, much like the rosaries had the night before, but he still felt shaky. It was no wonder Cisco thought he looked so bad.
"We'll figure something else out, then," Cisco told him.
Hartley blinked in confusion. "What?"
"We're not trying to torture you, Hartley." Cisco gave him an annoyed look. "We'll secure some place else for you to stay. Also, we'll need to get some more clothes for you; what's your address? We can get some of your stuff and make sure you don't lose the place while you're here."
A twinge of shame and embarrassment curled in his chest. Being homeless wasn't the worst thing, but the associated and dismissive prejudices that were directed at the homeless... he didn't want Team Flash's judgment or pity. But he did want to know what little he had left was safe.
Reluctantly, Hartley rattled off the address of the warehouse he'd been squatting in. Not looking Cisco in the eyes, he told the other man about the room where he'd left his clothes and what few possessions he had kept after selling everything else.
Cisco was very, very quiet. Then, softly, "I'll get the Flash to bring all your things here, then." Turning, Cisco led the way out of the pipeline. Once they were in the main hall, headed for the cortex, Cisco started to talk again, cheerfully declaring that they should totally call the anti-Time Wraith device the Patro-no and ignoring all of Hartley's protests that it was a ridiculous and stupid name.
Once Caitlin and Dr. Wells showed up, Cisco convinced Caitlin to watch over Hartley while he worked on repairing his gloves (they needed the frequency data for the Patro-no).
Then he cornered Dr. Wells. "We need to find someplace else to keep Hartley at night," Cisco told him. "He's claustrophobic. Did you know that?" He tried to keep the sound of accusation out of his voice, but... he remembered that strange look that future Barry had worn the night before when talking about Wells. The tone of Barry's voice when he said that Dr. Wells had lied to them about Hartley had been anything but pleasant.
Wells stared at Cisco for a long moment and then sighed. "Yes, I knew. I'd forgotten." He didn't sound particularly upset about the oversight, however. "I know it's not ideal, but there's no where else to put him," Wells insisted. "He'll be fine once he gets used to..."
"No," Cisco interrupted firmly. "Leaving someone claustrophobic in those cells is the same thing as torture and we are not doing that. We're better than that." Cisco closed his eyes and thought a moment. "The men's locker room. It's got one door and it locks; we'll flip the lock around so it only locks from the outside and clear out anything Barry or I have stored in there. It'll give Hartley places to keep his clothes, access to bathroom facilities, and we can put a mattress in there with the blankets and pillows from his current cell. It'll be more comfortable than the cells and he will be able to actually sleep without having any panic attacks from how small the room is."
"Very well. That's an acceptable compromise," Dr. Wells agreed, though he sounded distinctly unhappy about it.
Cisco nodded. "I'll get started on flipping the lock around, then." He paused and then said, "Hartley didn't just quit, did he?"
"It was kinder than saying I fired him for his behavior," Wells opined steadily.
"But that would've been a lie too," Cisco said, feeling oddly satisfied by the way Wells' eyes widened fractionally in surprise. "In the two years that Hartley and I worked together, his bad attitude was consistent and you never reprimanded him for it or tried to get him to improve his behavior in any way. So you fired him for some other reason that you apparently don't want to admit to, and it's not about saving face for Hartley either."
"He... had some concerns about the safety of the accelerator," Wells finally said. "He didn't feel I was doing enough to rectify the issues he'd identified and became... belligerent. I didn't appreciate his attitude so, yes, I did fire him for his behavior. But... he was right. I underestimated the danger and felt that the potential gains were worth the risk and it blew up in my face."
There was truth in there at last, but something about it still felt off. Cisco felt his hands curl into fists and he had to concentrate to relax them again. "You knew that it was dangerous?"
"I knew the probability of failure was higher than initially projected. I didn't know it would explode; I thought that if anything went wrong we'd still be able to simply shut it back down."
Cisco's head spun and he had no idea if Wells was lying or not. He'd have to ask Hartley; future Barry wouldn't have told him to ask Hartley in the first place if the physicist was only going to lie about it. And... he wouldn't have told future Barry to tell him to ask Hartley if Wells were telling the truth.
Fuck. It was official; Cisco hated time travel.
"You need to tell Caitlin about this. She deserves to know and she deserves to hear it from you." He left the words 'if you won't, I will' unspoken but most definitely implied. Then, before Wells could respond, Cisco left Wells' office and headed to his lab for his tools and his cell phone. He still needed to call Barry and direct him on how to find Hartley's things.
Why was Hartley living in an abandoned warehouse anyway? Someone with his talent should have his pick of jobs at the various labs in Central City and a spacious apartment in the nicer parts of downtown. But then... he probably had to spend most of his savings on medical bills after his hearing was affected by the accelerator and being in so much constant pain would have made finding a job nearly impossible, never mind actually keeping that job.
Cisco sighed as he entered his work space and dropped into his chair. It had been so much easier yesterday, when he could think of Hartley as just being an angry, self-righteous dick taking out his anger on the undeserving Wells. Now, for all that Hartley had gone about his vengeance the wrong way, it seemed like maybe Wells really did deserve Hartley's ire.
That... didn't sit well with him at all.
"There's a blow up mattress over there," Cisco gestured to the flat mattress and the already plugged in air pump that sat next to it, "and all the stuff from the cell got moved to these three lockers," Cisco told Hartley, tapping lockers 01, 02, and 03. "Your clothes are in 04 and everything else from the warehouse is in 05... except some stuff B... the Flash thought you might be able to use as lock picks, a set of keys, your cell phone, and a laptop. Those we're keeping somewhere else until it's time to let you go. We'll be getting you some more stuff tomorrow. Like some more clothes and better toiletries and some more blankets."
Hartley looked a little stunned, like he hadn't expected Cisco to actually come through on the promise not to make him stay in the pipeline.
"You didn't... you didn't have to..."
"No one deserves to be kept in a place that constantly triggers their phobias," Cisco told him firmly. "So long as you're here at STAR Labs, proving you're not going to go psycho on Dr. Wells again, you're basically our responsibility and that means that we should be looking out for your mental health and keeping you fed and clothed and such. Speaking of which, I'll be back in an hour with dinner, okay?"
Nodding, Hartley seemed a little lost as he opened locker number 04 and started inspecting the contents, looking a little more relieved every time he pulled out something to place on the locker room's bench.
Feeling a little lost himself, Cisco let himself out and locked the door behind him.
Hartley had never before been so relieved to see his battered, second hand copies of the Harry Potter books. His flute was in the locker as well and Hartley unzipped the pocket on the top of the case to check his cleaning equipment for it. However, his fingers touched something unexpected and he slid what felt like jewelry out for inspection.
It was a rosary. The rosary Jerrie had given him on the day of his Confirmation. It was a pretty thing, with onyx beads and a delicate looking crucifix; no one would have guessed that Jerrie had made it herself, carefully piecing it all together in her art class at school and getting Father Tony to bless it for her.
Clutching the rosary tightly, Hartley sat down on the bench and looked around. The locker room was still fairly small, but much larger than the pipeline cell and it's tiny-house style bathroom put together. And that wasn't even counting the shower area that had, like, three different shower stalls and four sinks and two toilet stalls and a urinal. Not only was it nicer than the cell he'd spent the previous night in, it was nicer than the warehouse he'd spent the last several months in.
Putting the rosary on like a necklace and tucking it out of sight beneath his shirt (it would have scandalized his mother to no end, she'd reminded Jerrie enough times in Hartley's hearing that rosaries were not necklaces and should be treated with more respect... never mind that the meditation beads really were meant to be worn or that she herself gave Jerrie a rosary bracelet for her First Communion gift), Hartley got up and scooted the bench up against the wall, blocking off the bottom row of lockers and creating plenty of space for the air mattress. After looking it over – and being surprised again to realize that they'd brought him one of the fancier mattresses that simulated the box springs for extra height and comfort – he quickly figured out how to attach the air pump to it and started it up, wincing at the loud noise it made. Leaving the mattress to inflate on its own for now, Hartley returned to checking through his things. Assuming the keys Cisco had mentioned were the ones to the storage facility he'd put the few remaining items he couldn't trust to keep on the streets with him, then everything else was there. Including a few printed pictures of his sister and the sketchbook he'd used to draw his initial designs for his gloves and hearing aids. There was also a new set of sketch pencils and a sharpener sitting there that Hartley knew hadn't been in the warehouse with his stuff.
Was that from Cisco?
After a moment, Hartley opened up one of the top lockers over the bench and dubbed that the 'bookshelf', piling the Harry Potter books in there. The next locker was the music shelf, his flute went in there. Everything else went back into 04 for now.
The mattress still wasn't ready, so Hartley went through his clothes next. His duffel bag had been stuffed in there, still filled with four rather worn looking shirts, a pair of jeans, sweat pants, his college sweatshirt, and some toiletries. His laundry stuff was missing, but Hartley guessed he'd be having a laundry service of sorts where someone took his stuff to be cleaned every now and again. Sure enough, 01 held towels, the toiletries from the cell – the toothbrush he'd used the night before, as well as the soap, shampoo, and toothpaste – and a laundry bag. 02 and 03 had a set of sheets, a soft fuzzy blanket, a quilt, and two pillows stuffed inside.
Pulling Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone back out, Hartley settled down to read, periodically checking on the mattress. When the mattress was, finally, firm enough, Hartley set the book on the edge of the bench to keep his place – dog-earing books was for heathens, Hartley would rip a page out of his sketch book later – and turned off the air pump. The pump got set aside and plugged back in to charge (air mattresses always needed refilling after the first night loosened it up and the internal temperature settled) and the fuzzy blanket went on first, then the sheets. (Air mattresses also tended to be kind of cold, so having the fuzzy blanket beneath the fitted bottom sheet would help keep him warm.) The quilt went on last and then the pillows were haphazardly shoved up against the wall.
Grinning to himself, Hartley hopped on, kicked off his boots, tossed his hoodie towards one of the locker room's wall hooks (it missed and landed on the floor in a heap, but Hartley couldn't bring himself to care) and buried himself under the covers. He started laughing because this was ridiculous; the STAR Labs locker room was now his jail cell/rent-free apartment. Then he tugged off the rosary and clutched it in his hands again, his laughter turning a touch hysterical before devolving into sobbing tears.
He still had no idea if they'd let him stay in touch with Jerrie. He'd been afraid to ask in the end. He'd been afraid to ask for a rosary too and absolutely certain that, despite Cisco's promises, he'd be spending weeks, if not months, sleeping in that tiny cell and reciting different prayers every night to keep himself from having full blown panic attacks. But Cisco did keep his promise and then immediately made more promises. Promises that Hartley was starting to suspect that Cisco would keep even if he had to argue with Wells every step of the way.
Promises that, if Hartley was honest with himself, he was pretty sure he didn't deserve in the least.
He fell asleep despite the fact that he was crying into his surprisingly comfortable fluffy pillows and woke to the smell of Thai food from the place down the street that he'd loved when he'd last been gainfully employed.
"I, uh, remembered that you went to Thai Thumbs all the time before..." Cisco trailed off a touch lamely as Hartley sat up and adjusted his glasses.
Sleeping in his glasses always left his nose feeling bruised and the nose pads on his glasses bent at awkward angles. "One of my favorite Thai places," Hartley confirmed. The only one better had been within walking distance of his former apartment.
"I, uh, ordered you... I should probably not even bother trying to pronounce it, but it's a chicken dish."
"Smells good." Putting his glasses back on, Hartley realized Cisco looked a little worried. Did he think maybe Hartley would complain about the food? "There's nothing on their menu that isn't good," Hartley added, wondering if Cisco intended to stick around for small talk or a polite excuse to leave.
"Um..." Cisco hovered at the doorway. "Is there... is there anything else you need?"
"Actually... if I turn off all the lights in here, it'll be pitch black. Think I could get a night light or two so that I can see my way to the sinks and light switches without having to leave the bright lights on in there?" he gestured towards the shower area.
"Night lights," Cisco hummed softly and nodded. "Totally. I mean, you'll have to live with it tonight, but I can bring you some tomorrow."
"Thanks."
Cisco started to turn to leave, then paused. "What's that?" he asked curiously.
Hartley blinked for a second, confused, before realizing that Cisco was talking about the beads dangling from his left hand. The crucifix, and saint medallion at the y-join, were both hidden from sight by his closed fingers. "It's a rosary. My sister made it for my Confirmation."
"Do you... do you mind if I take a look?"
In answer, Hartley held out his hand and uncurled his fingers from around the beads.
Cisco moseyed over and delicately picked up the rosary, examining some of the beads. "She did an amazing job. I can't even tell which end of the eye pins she had to crimp, or whatever the right term is." He handed it back and said, tentatively, "I didn't know you were religious."
"I'm not. Not since my parents disowned me, anyway." Hartley curled his hand around the rosary again. "I attended a private Catholic school where it was beat into my head time and again that being gay was a terrible sin, so I knew for a long while that my parents' religion and I were not going to be compatible but... I enjoyed sharing it with Jerrie."
"Jerrie's your little sister, right?"
Hartley nodded. "I haven't seen her since being disowned."
"I'm sorry. That sucks." Cisco shuffled uncomfortably, as though he knew there wasn't really anything he could say beyond that without sounding pitying.
"What about you? Particularly religious?" Hartley asked, using the rosary as a necklace again before moving from the bed to the bench where the Thai was sitting. Once there, he started pulling out the to-go box and the plastic fork. There was a plastic cup next to the food that was full of... mmm, root beer, good call on Cisco's part.
"Not really. My parents took Dante and I to church pretty regularly as kids, but less so when we were teens and by the time I started college we were all pretty much Easter-Christmas Catholics. Then I just stopped going altogether. I never did end up getting around to being Confirmed."
"Technically you've already got a saint name," Hartley said, the joke sort of... slipping out.
Cisco snorted in amusement. "True. What name did you pick out for your Confirmation? I mean, if you don't mind telling me..."
"Rene, for Saint Rene Goupil. Patron saint of anesthesiologists, or just anyone about to have anesthesia used on them. Though that has nothing to do with why I picked him," Hartley said, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth. Every bit as good as he remembered.
"Then why'd you pick him?"
Hartley shook his head. "Let's just say that I was making a point to my parents and they couldn't have been more oblivious if they'd tried."
Frowning thoughtfully, Cisco shrugged it off and returned to the door. "See you in morning, Hartley."
"Night."
The lock clicked shut and Hartley hummed softly to himself. Cisco still dressed like an intern and not the professional engineer he'd become, but... he actually wasn't so bad to talk to. And if the looks he'd been giving Wells earlier that day were anything to go by, it was entirely possible that he'd listen to what Hartley had to say about Wells.
Maybe.
"So, I was looking for my tablet at your work station, and I found this." Caitlin stuck Cisco's own tablet in front of his face, the information he'd been looking into regarding FIRESTORM clearly visible on the blue screen.
"I, uh... I can explain," Cisco promised, taking a step back and smiling nervously. "I know you said we should stop looking for Ronnie, so I... didn't stop looking for Ronnie."
"Why?" Caitlin's voice had that frosty tone of controlled anger she got sometimes and Cisco winced.
Because he was my friend and I got him killed; if I had just ignored what he said and waited just a little longer before... "Future Barry told me Hartley had information on what happened to Ronnie," Cisco told her quickly, in order to shut up his own thoughts. Which, admittedly, went against what Future Barry had told him about not telling anyone about their conversation at his apartment, but Cisco was fairly certain that Barry was talking specifically about the 'Hartley knows about the Reverse Flash but doesn't know he knows' thing, not the 'Hartley knows stuff about Ronnie but doesn't realize we don't already know some of what he knows' thing.
"Hartley Rathaway, who is currently locked up in the STAR Labs locker room for his epically bad life-choices?" Caitlin sounded skeptical.
"I know, I know, he's not my first choice of information sources either, but Barry - future Barry - told me that Hartley had useful information and Barry wouldn't lie about that, no matter how far in the future he was from. I just... wanted to make sure I had as much information on FIRESTORM as possible before talking to Hartley about it." He decided against mentioning that Barry had also said Hartley would want something 'reasonable' in return for the information.
"That's true," Caitlin agreed reluctantly, setting the tablet down on the desk, "Barry wouldn't lie to you about Ronnie. But... why did he tell you and not me?"
"He, uh... seemed think I'd have the better chance of getting Hartley's help?" Cisco shrugged. "I thought that was a little out there, but... weirder things have happened lately," he said, glancing over at Dr. Wells' empty office.
Dr. Wells had, eventually, told Barry and Caitlin the truth about the danger the accelerator had posed and how he'd fired Hartley for discovering the truth. Cisco was no more impressed by this iteration of Wells' 'confession' than he'd been the first time he'd heard it. Whatever Wells might say about firing Hartley for his attitude, Cisco was convinced that Wells had sacked Hartley for proving he was wrong. That Dr. Wells' ego took a hit and he'd hit back... and Cisco was utterly pissed that Wells wasn't willing to own up to his mistakes without having them shoved in his face.
Caitlin and Barry had agreed, at the time. But Barry couldn't stay, he had work to get back to. Caitlin, however, had reamed Wells out, while Cisco had watched over Hartley to make sure he didn't try anything funny with his gloves. If the gleeful smirk on Hartley's face was anything to go by, though, he'd heard every word Caitlin said to Wells.
The next day, Dr. Wells had held a press conference. That seemed to have gotten him back into Caitlin and Barry's good graces, but... Cisco remembered the look on future Barry's face. As he'd watched the conference, Cisco had been all too aware of an uncomfortable, sour feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It felt like they were getting played.
"I'd have never thought Dr. Wells would do anything like that," Caitlin admitted, looking disillusioned but not angry like how Cisco felt.
"I can understand why Hartley was so pissed at him; after getting fired without cause, the very thing he warned Wells about turned him into a meta, basically giving him a disability that has him in constant pain."
"Don't empathize with him too much, Cisco. We need him to talk to us, not the other way around," she warned him.
He snorted softly in annoyance. "Isn't trust supposed to be a two way street?"
"Is that about Hartley or Dr. Wells?"
"Can't it be both?" Cisco grumbled.
Caitlin sighed, giving him a frustrated look. "Cisco... Ronnie's gone. I think we both need to accept that. Whatever future Barry told you... he shouldn't have and we should just move on with our lives."
Yeah, cause Caitlin was doing such a bang up job of moving on with her life. Not that Cisco was going to say that out loud. He'd just... keep doing this without her help for now. So he blatantly changed the subject. "I was thinking of ordering pizza for dinner. Want to stick around or are you busy like Barry and Wells are?"
"I'll stick around, if only so you're not getting left alone with Hartley. Just because you're building up trust with him doesn't mean I'm going to let him take advantage of you." When Cisco rolled his eyes at her, she patted his shoulder. "You always want to see the best in people, Cisco. Even in someone who is as much of an ass as Hartley."
Future Barry had also told him, the two of you are actually really close when I'm from. So maybe Caitlin had a point.
"What do you want on your pizza?" Cisco grumbled instead.
"Supreme," Caitlin told him. "I'll go get some sodas and desserts, then swing by Pizza Hut to pick up our order on the way back. So don't take too long to order, okay? I don't want to be stuck there waiting while the ice cream melts."
"Thanks, Caitlin," he told her as she headed out of the cortex.
Wandering up to the desk and flipping the tablet back over, Cisco clicked over to his web browser and the set of tabs he was glad he didn't need to explain the contents of to Caitlin. Because FIRESTORM wasn't the only thing Cisco wanted to have ready when he went to ask Hartley about Ronnie. Cisco had been looking up the Saint name Hartley had mentioned, wanting to know if he could figure out the point that Hartley's oblivious parents had missed. After all, the better Cisco understood Hartley, the more likely he was to be able to earn his trust and learn whatever it was that Hartley supposedly knew about the Reverse Flash.
Cisco hadn't been sure how to spell the name 'Rene Goupil' – there were a few different ways to spell 'Rene' that were appropriately French and Cisco hadn't even bothered to guess at how to spell the saint's last name – but all he'd needed to do was Google 'Catholic Saint Rene' to find the appropriate Wikipedia entry and a plethora of websites dedicated to Saints that contained information on various people named Rene who'd attained saint-hood. He'd opened up several of those links in new tabs and poured over the information available. It turned out there wasn't really a lot there and most of the information was redundant; in fact, the most pertinent information could be boiled down to a single, short paragraph.
Rene Goupil, before being martyred and canonized, had been a surgeon and the a Jesuit trainee, only leaving when his growing deafness proved to be too much of an obstacle. He'd become a missionary working with the Jesuits instead, leaving his home in France for Quebec to work treating the wounded and sick there. Eventually he moved on to the missions in Huron territory and was captured (along with several other Jesuits) by enemies of the tribe they'd been converting. He was eventually bludgeoned to death with a tomahawk, but not before being formally received into the Jesuits as a religious brother by one of his fellow captives. He wasn't officially canonized until the 1930s by Pope Pius XI.
Honestly, the short little biography for the Saint was... boring. Especially once he'd basically read the same thing over again for the third time on yet another online encyclopedia of Catholic saints. And none of that repetition had clued Cisco in to what had made Hartley pick this specific Saint out of all the Saints out there for his Confirmation name.
Closing out all the tabs, Cisco headed towards the locker room. They'd sent Hartley back in there earlier while Barry was out being the Flash; they were trying to keep Barry's identity from Hartley, so the only time Barry could be out and about in the labs without wearing the suit was when Hartley was locked away.
The thing was, Cisco was pretty sure Hartley already knew Barry's identity. He'd cased STAR Labs before his attack. Not just Wells, though obviously he'd been casing him too. Hartley would've wanted all the information on them he could get; there's no way that Hartley wouldn't have noticed Barry's comings and goings didn't match up the way a normal person's would or how now that he was being locked up here there was always the Flash but never Barry Allen.
Doctor Wells, however, had insisted Barry hide his identity and Cisco hadn't thought it was worth arguing over. Yet.
Hartley looked up as the lock clicked open and Cisco peered inside.
"Hey. So Cait and I are going to have pizza. Want to join us? I can get you something else if you'd rather..."
"Pizza's fine. I'm not too picky about toppings... just... no anchovies or Hawaiian. I'm allergic to pineapple." That anchovies were gross went without saying... he hoped.
"Right, no pineapple and anchovies are disgusting anyway," Cisco agreed cheerfully. "We're getting a supreme; you okay with that?"
"That's fine." Hartley shrugged, expecting for Cisco to immediately lock him back up. Instead, Cisco held the door open and gestured for him to come back out.
"I was thinking of putting on some Doctor Who in the break room for us to watch while we eat," the engineer told him as he started to lead the way down the hall.
"I'm way behind on the show," Hartley said, wondering if Cisco meant new episodes or just watching reruns off of Netflix.
"Me too," Cisco said, grimacing a little. "I missed all the latest season – I kept thinking I'd find the time to binge watch and always got caught up in something else instead. I was just gonna pick from one of the Tenth Doctor's run. Not Midnight, though. That one always freaks me out and they never do end up finding out what it was." Cisco shuddered theatrically.
"It doesn't help that all the things that usually work in the Doctor's favor backfire on him spectacularly," Hartley opined tentatively.
"Yup. Definitely not Midnight. Any favorites, or episodes you'd rather avoid?"
"Blink is always a good one," Hartley ventured. "Or The Doctor's Daughter, which is hilarious on some pretty meta levels if you know the actor trivia."
"Hang on a sec," Cisco fished out his phone and dialed a number.
"Pizza Hut. How may we place your order?"
"Hi, I'd like to place an order for two medium supreme pizzas, using the coupon code," Cisco pulled his phone back for a second to glance at something on the screen, then brought it back up to his face so he could recite the code.
Hartley tuned out the conversation… or tried to anyway, but he wasn't very good at it yet. Instead he wandered into the break room ahead of Cisco and settled on to the couch. Then he sat up straighter as he heard the Pizza Hut guy say the pizzas would be ready for pickup in about twenty-five minutes.
Taking Caitlin's travel time into account, that gave Hartley forty minutes, give or take, that he could use to knock out Cisco, input his computer virus, throw all his things into his duffel bag and... that still left some of his stuff unaccounted for, most notably the keys to his storage container. But Hartley could figure a way around that if he had to. The important thing was that he could complete his self-appointed mission right now, minimal casualties – and it wasn't like Cisco wouldn't recover quickly from being knocked out and tied up, so that barely counted – and get the hell out without the Flash knowing anything was wrong until Hartley was far enough away, and hidden well enough, that not even a speedster would think it worth continuing the search.
"Okay, so this has been bugging me ever since you said it," Cisco said, flopping down onto the couch next to Hartley, oblivious to the fact that Hartley was dangerous to him.
Honestly, did the man have no self-preservation instincts at all?
"Why Rene Goupil? I mean, literally none of his life seems relevant to yours and I can't figure out how you were using him to make a point to your parents. The only thing I can think of that seems even remotely connected is that he was deaf, but that only works since the accelerator explosion and not before." Cisco made a frustrated noise. "What am I missing?"
Hartley stared at him.
"What?" Cisco self consciously brushed at his nose. "Do I have something on my face or...?"
"No. You look fine." Hartley blinked and then, "you've seriously been trying to figure out the secret meaning behind my Confirmation name?"
"It just bugs me, that's all. I mean, I keep coming back to him being deaf but I know that can't be it..."
"That's... not entirely accurate," Hartley interrupted. "It actually does have everything to do with him being deaf and... my hearing was already screwed up before the accelerator exploded. Just... the opposite of how it is now. Not as badly, either. I mean… I guess that's obvious since you didn't even realize..." he trailed off uncomfortably, unable to recall the last time he'd spoken openly about his pre-accelerator hearing problems. Had he discussed it with Chip? Hartley honestly couldn't remember. He knew he'd at least mentioned having difficulty hearing, but...
"Not after what?" Now Cisco sounded concerned.
"What I remember most about being a little kid – like, up until I was around six or seven – was how often I was told I was stupid. Lazy. Not paying attention." Hartley couldn't even look at Cisco, but he practically felt the wide-eyed stare anyway. "I kept telling people that I didn't hear them. I was trying so hard to be good, but my best was never enough. Father made it very clear that I couldn't possibly have hearing issues; Rathaways weren't defective. But, eventually, at mother's urging I was taken to see a specialist and, lo and behold, I had hearing problems. Problems that were getting increasingly worse and I was likely to be deaf by the time I was in my teens. Conductive hearing loss due to a congenital defect of the stapes bone. I was taken to the hospital without explanation shortly afterwards and had a stapedectomy performed. I had no idea what was going on beforehand and afterwards everything was so loud..." Hartley's hands clenched for a long moment before forced them to relax against the couch cushions. "My hearing stabilized at acceptable, if below average, levels and my parents were pleased that I was no longer defective, by their standards. I learned ASL in high school to piss them off, but they never even noticed. I picked Rene Goupil as my Saint name to make a point about how being deaf didn't make him any less of a saint and that he didn't let it stop him from finding ways to live the life he felt called to... but, again, they couldn't have been more oblivious if they tried.
"As far as they were concerned, my remaining hearing problems were non-existent and why should anything I did matter to them so long as I proved to be a nice, non-threatening, conservative heir to the Rathaway family?" He snorted in amusement. "I'd have rather come out to them on my own terms, but the looks on their faces when I confirmed that I'm gay were utterly priceless. That was far, far worse than being deaf and it wasn't something they could fix with therapy or pray away, no matter how much they might like to tell themselves otherwise."
"Your parents suck," Cisco said unhesitatingly. Hartley looked up, but there was no pity on the other man's face. Sympathy and, perhaps, understanding, but no pity.
He felt relieved.
"My parents didn't disown me when I came out as pan, but they certainly weren't accepting, either. And that's after they thought I was making a joke about dating a chef." He rolled his eyes. "Despite what they keep insinuating, it's not a phase or an inability to just chose a gender to be attracted to – and I don't even want to start in on the whole 'there's actually more than two genders' thing with them because it'd probably blow their minds. The last time I introduced a partner to them, they kept trying to subtly ask if I'd finally settled on my 'real' sexuality."
Hartley snorted in amusement. "I had a roommate in college who insisted that bisexuality, or any sexuality similar to it, was 'just a phase' because he'd identified as bi before deciding he was really gay and obviously if it was just a phase for him then it must be for everyone else on the entire planet and that I was a naive, sheltered little closet-case for disagreeing with him. Though, he also didn't understand why I wouldn't have casual sex with him because we were both gay and obviously gay men are supposed to be sex fiends... so he was completely floored when I switched roommates on the grounds that he was harassing me."
"Ugh, he sounds horrible. Worst roommate I had was a guy who'd get high and vandalize my stuff. I lost a term paper that way and nearly didn't get it reprinted in time."
Hartley frowned, glancing at the clock on the computer. When had Cisco completed his call to Pizza Hut? How long had they been talking? How much time did he have left before Caitlin arrived? Why was he wasting time like this?
The thing was, though... he really, really didn't want to hurt Cisco.
"Hey, so... Doctor Who? Did you decide on an episode yet?" Cisco asked, utterly oblivious to Hartley's internal struggle.
"I know you were thinking Tenth Doctor, but… if the first season with Capaldi is on there, could we just start with that?" Hartley paused and then added, "I just... missed all of those. It was airing right as I was..."
"Right as what?"
"It doesn't matter. I was too busy to watch the show, that's all."
Cisco stared at him and, for a moment, Hartley felt like the engineer was looking right through him. Then he looked away and pulled up the Netflix on his browser; it was already logged in to his account, so he just pulled up the show's episode page and selected Series 8 from the list. "He told us that you quit."
Hartley froze. He wasn't sure he was breathing.
"But it's pretty obvious now that he lied to us. And he would've kept lying if I hadn't asked. I'm not sure he'd have told Caitlin about how you'd discovered that the risk of the accelerator exploding was higher than expected either, if I hadn't told her first."
"It wasn't just 'higher than expected,'" Hartley said, harshly," it was well over seventy-five percent in favor of exploding. I kept noticing there were problems in the numbers for years but whenever I asked, Dr. Wells told me that I wasn't seeing the bigger picture and that it was fine. So I'd drop it. But I was seeing more and more problems and... I started running separate simulations. What I found was... there was a flaw in the accelerator with a high chance of failing, causing a chain reaction that would have wiped out STAR Labs and a good chunk of the surrounding area. Everyone who worked here, who brought their families or friends, the press, the curious science nerds, the protesters... I thought that I had to be missing something. There had to be. I couldn't conceive the idea that Harrison would intentionally conceal a flaw of that magnitude.
"It had to be a mistake." He clenched his fists and laughed bitterly. "My only mistake was telling him in advance that I wanted to meet with him in the morning because I had worries about the safety of the accelerator. After the day was over and nearly everyone else had gone home, I went into the pipeline the check out the area my sims had indicated was flawed. It was actually worse than I thought. It looked fine on the surface, but when I opened up the paneling to look inside... it'd be a miracle if the whole thing didn't fry itself in the first ten minutes of operation. The whole section was the same way. it needed to all be ripped out and redone and it would have set us back months."
"He wouldn't listen?" Cisco asked, appalled.
"He already knew. He was standing there when I came out of the pipeline. Wanted to know what I was doing in his accelerator... and I could see it on his face. He already knew what I'd found and he didn't care. I didn't have to even say what I'd found; I just had to say I was planning to come forward with the information and... he had four men from security waiting to throw me out. Told me that if I tried to pursue this 'unsubstantiated accusation' he'd make sure I'd be lucky to manage landing a job teaching high school physics."
Cisco swore, a rapid line of English and Spanish intermingled.
Hartley had expected denial and a desperate defense of Doctor Wells. He'd hoped for a reaction that would let him justify, to himself, knocking out Cisco and completing his self-appointed mission. But Cisco's indignation wasn't towards Hartley. Instead… he sounded angry on Hartley's behalf.
Stunned, Hartley settled back into the couch. "You… believe me?"
"I wish I didn't," Cisco admitted. "But, yeah. I believe you."
"So, um..." Hartley paused in the hallway, not quite ready to go back into the locker room just yet. "I know some things about Ronnie Raymond you should know too. But I want something in exchange."
If Hartley didn't know better, he'd think Cisco wasn't surprised to hear any of that. But it had to be the engineer was doing an unusually good job of holding on to his poker face.
"What do you want, Hartley?"
"I want access to a computer, or a tablet, so I can keep in touch with my sister. I don't expect you to let me have my laptop or phone back, but something locked down should be doable. Internet access only? We email a lot and she'll think something bad has happened to me if she doesn't hear back from me soon."
Cisco looks startled at first, then sympathetic. "Dude, you don't... if you'd said something earlier I'd have already gotten you access already. I'll have something ready for you sometime tomorrow." He paused a beat, then asked, "about Ronnie..."
"It's... I'll have to show you some things, okay? It's not something that makes sense without the accompanying proof."
"So tomorrow, then."
"After you've finished locking down a device for me to use."
Cisco nodded. "So, uh, how's the light situation working out for you at night now?"
The engineer had not only gotten Hartley plenty of night lights to spread around the locker room, he'd brought a number of LED Christmas lights that Hartley could daisy chain and drape around the place, several battery powered LED emergency lamps, and a handful of flashlights. Hartley had redesigned the Christmas light setup twice already, but he thought he had the optimal setup for them now.
"Honestly, I still think you went overboard. But its good to know I've got plenty of light on hand, so... thanks."
Cisco beamed as brightly as any of those lamps. "You're welcome." He gestured to the door. "See you tomorrow morning."
Hartley nodded and went inside, settling onto the air mattress for a long while, lost in thought.
I believe you he'd said. Cisco had no idea what those words had protected him from that night. Hartley still felt tense and horrible and even now he was still using Cisco...
Oh, Hartley had meant it about wanting to be able to email his sister. But if Hartley had a tablet then he could use it as an entry point for the virus he'd written. He could reactivate his old STAR Labs account and have access to pretty much anything he wanted.
Starting with rebuilding his presumably destroyed simulations. The ones that proved Dr. Wells had to have been building the accelerator specifically to fail.
Getting up, Hartley checked the place where he'd hidden the USB with the virus on it, verifying it was still in the little crevice between the bottom and the back panel of one of the upper lockers behind Hartley's airbed. It was a little awkward to reach, but Hartley retrieved it easily, verified it was still in one piece and the same drive he'd brought with him, with the tell tale scratch along the bottom of the casing, and then put it back.
Pulling off his shirt and dropping it on the bed, Hartley headed back into the shower area to get ready for the night. He was going to have a long day tomorrow.
Cisco had ended up working on locking it down all night at home. He was fairly certain Hartley would only be able to use it for web browsing, but... Hartley was a genius so there was no telling how long it would take before he got around that. But... Barry - future Barry, anyway - had said that what Hartley wanted in exchange for his information on Ronnie was harmless.
... Had that been his exact words? Huh. Now that Cisco thought about it, Barry hadn't actually said it was safe to give Hartley what he wanted, just that Cisco should give it to him. Cisco was the one who'd assumed that meant it was safe to give it to him.
Turning the tablet around in his hands, Cisco stared balefully at the door to the locker room. He'd already promised the tablet to Hartley. He didn't want to go back on his word. Maybe he should have thought this through better.
Too late now.
Unlocking the door, Cisco knocked before opening the door a little. "Special delivery. One tablet, ready for your use."
Hartley pulled the door open the rest of the way. "Awesome." He snatched the tablet away and then hopped up on the air mattress, crossing his legs as he unlocked the tablet and pulled up a browser in order to log into his gmail account. Cisco recognized the page graphics even from a distance.
"You'll probably want these too," Cisco said wryly, dropping the wall plug and charging cord on the mattress beside Hartley.
"Thanks," Hartley replied absently, already reading an email intently.
"Is your sister okay?"
"Yeah. She wants my opinion on her college application essays; she's put them up on google docs for me to critique." Hartley was smiling proudly as he kept reading and... it was a surprisingly good look on him. Sort of softened his edges a little.
Suddenly Cisco was very glad he'd given Hartley the tablet. He went and settled on the bench across from the bed and waited for Hartley to finish catching up on his sister's news. Then, finally, Hartley locked the screen and stowed the tablet, along with the charging equipment, in one of the lockers above the bed.
"Okay, so... Ronnie. To start explaining what's happened with him, I need show you a few things. First is right outside the building." Hartley stood up and offered Cisco a hand up. "Mind taking a short walk out doors?"
Cisco accepted his hand. "Lead the way."
"Okay, so... it's the side of STAR Labs. What am I looking for here?"
Hartley rolled his eyes, and rounded the corner. Then he pointed, waiting for Cisco to join him.
"Oh..." Cisco's mouth shut and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Yeah. That. I'd almost managed to forget that was still there."
"The Japanese call them Bakudan no kage." Hartley paused a moment, wrinkling his nose. "I think I just screwed up the pronunciation. Whatever. Point is, it means bomb shadow. They were all over Hiroshima after the first atomic bomb was dropped. This shadow belonged to a scientist here the night the accelerator exploded. Dr. Martin Stein."
"The accelerator did this to him?" Cisco sounded sick with guilt.
"In a manner of speaking." Hartley settled onto the nearby steps. "You could also say Ronnie did this to him. And he's not dead either, as far as I can tell, anyway."
"What do you mean, Ronnie did this to him? How could Ronnie... how could Ronnie do this out here when he was... dying in the pipeline?"
Yeah, that was definitely guilt. And Cisco's guilt gnawed at Hartley's gut. "That's the next thing I need to show you. Does STAR Labs still have the video footage from the night of the explosion? Otherwise we're going to have to make take a look at the CCPD's copy of the footage."
"It's gone. But... if we ask Barry, he could probably get us that footage without having to hack in like you must've to already know what's there."
"That's right." Hartley quirked his mouth with a slow smirk. "The Flash is a CSI for the CCPD."
Now Cisco was the one rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I figured you knew."
"I like yanking Harrison's chain over Allen's identity. He's obsessed with that guy. You do realize that, right? Not in a good way either."
Cisco's eyes went distant. "If you go to the CCPD with me, you can't wear those." He focused back on the here and now, reaching over to tap Hartley's magnetic cuffs. "I don't know how comfortable I am with that."
"I only want Harrison hurt, Cisco. Not you."
"And anyone who got in your way. Like Barry." Cisco gave Hartley a steady, unflinching stair. "You were so single minded in your quest for revenge, admit it. You didn't care who else got hurt along the way."
Hartley flinched despite himself. He let out a gusty sigh and ran his hands through his hair. "No. I didn't," he agreed begrudgingly.
"And I'm supposed to believe that's changed?"
"I can't go to the CCPD anyway," Hartley said quietly, side stepping the question because he didn't have an answer. He couldn't prove it and he had that tablet now. He was still using Cisco to his advantage. "I didn't exactly do a stellar job of hiding my face when I blew out the windows of Rathaway Industries. Someone might recognize me and arrest me for real."
Cisco huffed in amusement. "Fair point. I could have Barry meet us somewhere else."
At least that gave Hartley an answer Cisco would accept. "I would like to point out, it wouldn't be particularly smart for me to try anything when the Flash is going to be there too. So if you can't trust me to value your well being, then you'll just have to trust I value my own."
"Alright. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to him, but I'll get Barry to meet us at the park with the footage from the camera watching this area. It's, what, E12?"
"E11," Hartley corrected.
Barry Allen does not look like a happy camper when he shows up at the park with a laptop.
"You're actually prettier out of the suit," Hartley said, flirtatiously flicking his eyes up and down to take in the full view of the very, very pretty face behind the Flash cowl.
"Don't start with me," Allen snapped. He settled onto the bench, putting Cisco between himself and Hartley. Then he flipped open the laptop, logged in, and pulled up a mp4 file. "What are we looking for?"
Hartley rattled off the time stamp they wanted and then waited for the 'holy shit' moment.
"Mierda," Cisco muttered under his breath, sucking in a sharp breath.
"I've seen that guy before," Allen said. "He was on the train with me when I was coming back from Starling the morning of the accelerator incident."
"Slow it down and look again," Hartley told them, leaning back and staring up at the sky.
"Is that... that's Ronnie." Cisco sounded dazed.
"I saw Martin Stein the night STAR Labs went boom." Hartley told them. "He walked right past me. See, Stein specialized in molecular transmography and quantum splicing. Taking two things and making them one. And that's what happened to him that night. I'd thought it was just the concussion talking. That what I saw that night wasn't real. And then I saw Ronnie at the same shelter I was frequenting and... I started digging into this. He didn't really recognize me. And, well, there's the whole part where he lights on fire sometimes. But some of what he said when I spoke to him... it sounded like he was talking about Stein's research."
"The FIRESTORM matrix," Cisco filled in.
"Right. Which... Ronnie wouldn't have a reason to know anything about that, but Martin Stein would. I think Stein brought something from work along with him when he came down from Starling. Something he probably shouldn't have. Ronnie was at the heart of the pipeline when the explosion hit and... I think the dark matter released instantly bonded him to the energy of the explosion which was drawn to the FIRESTORM matrix and then bonded with Stein, the closest person to that matrix, splicing them into one person for stability. Theoretically... theoretically we should be able to split them back into the original halves, but we'd need their cooperation first."
There was a soft click as Barry shut the computer lid. "How, exactly, do we do that?"
"Stein seemed to be the dominant personality. If we can find out more about him, then we can track where he'd go. But... I know some of the places he's been frequenting while he's been homeless. Mostly Freespace shelters and soup kitchen locations. So we might be able to run into him at one of those." The problem would be convincing Stein to trust them. Because Stein and Ronnie didn't trust each other and that was making them sick. And if Stein didn't trust Ronnie, then he wouldn't trust the people Ronnie knew to help them either. And then there was the fact that Ronnie had absorbed a lot of energy the night of the explosion, which likely contributed to their current instability. Separating Stein from Ronnie would mean releasing that energy again, plus some again from the FIRESTORM matrix itself. Which meant locating a place large enough to handle what was likely going to be a very large explosion.
He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths. One problem at a time.
Hartley had not realized that Caitlin didn't actually want to find Ronnie.
He listened in bewildered silence as she berates Cisco for going behind her back - for taking Hartley with him and dragging Barry into this. Maybe it's because most of the relationships Hartley had were screwed up in some way, but he doesn't understand why Caitlin doesn't seem to want tofight for Ronnie. What they had together was beautiful and she just... what, she was scared to possibly lose him again?
"I told you to let it go. I didn't want you looking into that for me," Caitlin finishes, anger toning down to frustration.
"I wasn't doing it for you," Cisco corrected quietly. "I... I sealed Ronnie into the accelerator before it blew. He told me to wait two minutes and I waited... but he didn't come back. And I can't stop thinking, ten, twenty seconds more and Ronnie wouldn't be like he is right now. I wanted to tell you so many times." Cisco looked like he was a step or two away from crying and Hartley thought guiltily about his plans for revenge on Harrison again. "I'm so sorry," Cisco finished, voice choked.
If Hartley tore down Harrison and STAR Labs then what happened to Cisco and Caitlin and Ronnie?
"Do you know what Ronnie would say if he was here?" Caitlin asked gently. "He would say you did the right thing. It wasn't you're fault. What happened that night wasn't anybody's fault." She pulled Cisco into a hug and the engineer gave a very quiet little sob as he clung to her.
It was a sweet scene and clearly something Cisco had desperately needed, but there was a problem in what Caitlin had just said. It was somebody's fault. It was Harrison's fault, that bastard.
"You keep talking about him like he's dead," Hartley spoke up. "But Ronnie isn't dead."
"He's merged with Martin Stein. The Ronnie I knew and loved is dead," Caitlin insisted, pulling away from Cisco to scowl at Hartley.
"If you'd read and understood the FIRESTORM research, you'd know that's not true. In fact, leaving them merged and so clearly unstable is likely incredibly dangerous. But lets say you're right and the Ronnie you knew is gone. There is still a person out there who was created the night of the accelerator, has powers and memories he doesn't understand and perhaps even fears, and he seems to be mentally ill. He needs help. Our help because what he's going through is our fault. But you don't want to help him because he looks like your dead fiance and that is so fucking selfish of you." He catches her hand when she goes to slap him. "You don't know what its like to be homeless and alone and frightened because it feels like you're trapped in a hole that only ever gets deeper." His jaw worked for a moment as he fought against the urge to say something that was probably a step too far. Instead he let go of her wrist and she let her arm drop listlessly to her side. "I honestly thought better of you than this." He stood up and left, headed towards the locker room because fuck if he was dealing with their drama any more today.
He had essays to check and an email to write... and with the USB adapter he'd just pocketed, he had a virus he needed to figure out how to plant too.
If only he were more certain he was doing the right thing.
Caitlin brought Hartley his dinner for a change. She brings him a lasagna from one of the nicer restaurants in the area with a jug of sweet tea (and a cup to pour it in) and... a slice of cheesecake for dessert.
He gives her a suspicious look. "You were going to slap me earlier and now you're bringing me cheesecake. What, exactly, am I missing here?"
"You were right. I'm scared of letting myself hope that I could have Ronnie back because that means I could lose him again. And I've been selfish as a result."
"So its apology cheesecake."
"Yes. And a thank you. For how much research you've already done into what's happening to Ronnie."
Hartley shrugged. "Much like Cisco, I wasn't doing it for you."
"You feel guilty because you couldn't stop Dr. Wells from going ahead with the accelerator," she concluded.
He nodded. There wasn't much point in denying the obvious after all.
"I get why you're so angry with him. But after everything Dr. Wells has suffered..." she stopped when Hartley let out an ill-disguised snort of amusement. "What?" she demanded flatly.
"You can save your spiel about how much Harrison's lost what with being paralyzed and disabled." Which was bullshit too, but Hartley wasn't about to go flaunting knowledge that could potentially get him killed. "As someone who is also disabled, I can tell you that its ableist bullshit to equate suffering and injury as karmic retribution for fucking up. Being disabled isn't Harrison's punishment or penance. His injury was a freak accident and I sure as hell don't think he's actually gotten what he deserves yet."
Caitlin's mouth thinned to a line and Hartley's pretty sure he's just pissed her off again. But what she was implying was offensive and Hartley wasn't about to let it go. "Enjoy your dinner," she finally tells him, voice flat.
"Thanks, I will." He lets it go at that, turning his attention to the lasagna.
Cisco is back in the morning with his usual cheerful wake up call. But also a plastic shopping back with something inside it.
"Hey, so... uh... this is for you." Cisco held the bag out sharpish and Hartley took it from him delicately, sitting down on the bed as he opened the bag to peer inside.
And then he pulls out a plushy rat. A rattata pokemon plushy, to be more specific.
"I thought maybe it'd help this place feel less..."
"Like a prison," Hartley filly in wryly.
"Yeah, well, you're the Pied Piper. Shouldn't you have an army of rats already anyway?"
Hartley pulled the rattata all the way out of the bag, letting the plastic flutter to the ground unheeded for now. "It's nice, Cisco. Thanks. I'll call him General or something and he can preside over my rodent army, once I acquire one."
Cisco snorted in amusement while Hartley experimentally hugged the plushy to his chest. Yup, hugging a plushy still had that strange effect that lingered from childhood of making him feel better about things. He smiled fondly and placed the rat on his pillows. He needed to pull the tag off it, but he could do that later.
He's not going to admit it to Cisco, but having a plushy to hold on to at night will probably help him sleep better. And he does love rats.
Once he was satisfied the rattata plush was well situated amongst his pillows - and ignoring Cisco's sounds of amusement - he snagged the plastic bag to throw away and stood back up, ready to take on another day.
Notes:
The plushy was an impulse buy on Cisco's part while on what was supposed to be just a grocery run. But he saw it and thought of Hartley and then suddenly it was in his shopping cart and there was just no going back from there.
Also, the laptop Barry uses to show them the clip from the security camera is presumably a work laptop he's allowed to take home to work on reports and can thus access the digital evidence locker, such as the video seized during the investigation of the accelerator accident. Barry's not really happy about accessing the footage without a reason that'd fly with Singh if he gets asked about it, but... he's not really likely to be asked about it either.