"I can help you." It was my only chance, and I knew that it was a long shot. After all, I'd just spent the last few minutes pouring out my confusion and betrayal.

"You're smart, Cisco," Dr. Wells – Dr. Thawne? – raised his arm, vibrating the molecules. "But you're not that smart." I knew in that moment that he was going to kill me. I guess I had ever since he walked into the room – I just didn't want to admit it, even to myself. No one knew what was going on, except maybe Caitlin, and she couldn't get here in time.

I lowered my head, closing my eyes in surrender. I knew that I was crying, but I couldn't believe that it mattered now. Maybe Caitlin would tell Barry and they would stop the Reverse Flash…but I was too smart to tell myself that Barry was even remotely fast enough.

"Do you know how hard it has been to keep all of this from you – especially from you?"

I couldn't stop looking at what would be the instrument of my demise. The suspense was killing me – ha, that's a good one. Death row humor. But still, it was torture to see it just laying at his side when I knew that soon it would be shaking my molecules apart.

I wanted to throw up.

"Because the truth is, I've grown quite fond of you."

I tore my eyes from the vibrating hand to glance up at the man who had given me a sense of belonging for the first time in my life. It was pathetic that even now I hoped to find some trace of affection in his eyes.

"In many ways, you've shown me what's it's like to have a son."

I stared at him, my eyes pleading with him to be telling the truth. And, in my last moments, I let myself believe that he was, even as I felt the agony of my body being shaken apart from the inside.

"Forgive me," Dr. Wells – I couldn't stop thinking of him as that – whispered.

I didn't want to forgive him. But the little boy who had been lost and alone for so long couldn't help but cling to the last shred of kindness he was offered as he fell away from this life. I'd like to say that my last thoughts were for Caitlin and Barry – praying for their survival – but they weren't. When I died, I was thinking of Dr. Wells, and how I was glad that he thought of me as a son because I'd always seen him as a father. By the time my brain flickered out, I had already forgiven him.