Barry asks the Speed Force, I-need-you-to-intervene. I-need-to-play-my-hand.
The Flash shies away from him, distancing itself from the request. He feels it leave, a lightning-strike in reverse, leaving him cold and wanting in its wake. Before Barry can persuade it to stay, it runs, putting space between them until it fades like a ghost on the horizon. The message is clear: this-is-your-fight. Not-mine.
The empty tundra feels hostile, a wind picking up into blizzard territory. A step forward, and the ice crackles underfoot. Barry cannot miss the warning there. Still he proceeds, insisting, Something-terrible-is-about-to-happen. I-need-you-to-stop-it.
Rumbling in the distance, a Speed-polar bear saunters towards him. Its glowing gold eyes are the sole representation of its origin, but when its mouth drops open, it pants red, and deep, and disamused. I AM NOT YOUR SERVANT.
It's so loud he takes a step back, and the polar bear advances. It charges, unexpectedly, and before he can possibly defend himself, massive clawed paws land upon his chest and push him to the ice, which breaks, and down into the darkness they sink.
He doesn't need to breathe, but the urge hyperventilates in his chest, dizzy with alarm at the great unknown they're sinking into. The darkness does not remit or end as the ice above them disappears, leaving only cold, and cold, and cold in its trail.
They stay down for so long Barry's breath no longer strains to be drawn from the icy waters around him. In the same moment as his final gasp, he feels the paws lift off his chest. Panic arises; he knew what to expect when Speed Force was there, however angry, but he knows nothing of this Void without it. He reaches for a creature that circles him, powerful and untouchable, but close enough to fear.
I Gave You A Gift, the Speed Force says, from everywhere and nowhere. I Gave You Your Life. Your Breath. Your Blood. I Guard Your People. I Walk In Your Steps. I Give.
I Can Take Away.
Barry feels a crushing pressure against his chest and knows the water will drown him if he takes a breath. He keeps his mouth shut, but he projects, pleading, to it. Please. My-family-is-in-great-danger.
You Are In Great Danger, the Speed Force replies.
I-came-to-you-because-I-know-you, Barry insists, reaching out, feeling fur under his fingertips and holding onto it. I-came-to-you-because-you-are-my-friend-my-life-my-everything. I-need-you. I-need-you-and-I-know-I-shouldn't-ask-but-I-have-to.
Speed Force kicks its paws, swimming forward, gliding effortlessly, and Barry fists his other hand in its fur, finding a steady hold. It's listening, he can tell. Make-a-better-argument, he once threw in the Reverse Flash's face, feeling it like a warning hum under the Speed Force's skin.
Terrible-things-are-about-to-happen. I-need-you-to-intervene. I-need-you-to-stop-Savitar-before-he-destroys-my-family.
The Speed Force paddles slowly. Listening.
Barry's heart pounds, but he pushes onward. The cold steeps in his bones. When-I-was-eleven-you-weren't-around-and-I-couldn't-ask-you-for-help-then. I-can-now.
I Was There, the Speed Force replies, turning its head and Barry knows because it affixes him with golden eyes. I Protected You. It looks away again and the world pitches black, and even though they're swimming there's almost no sensation to mark the movement. Just the rippling of muscles underhand and the cold all around, blue-tundra-dark.
Barry leans forward and wraps both arms around the polar bear's neck. It's warm, heady like a heartbeat under his ear, and he closes his eyes. I-ask-you-as-a-friend, he entreats, feeling the calm overtaking them, take-my-life-but-please-help-them. Take-this-gift. Take-what-is-yours. But-don't-let-Savitar-take-what-isn't-his.
The Speed Force does not reply, climbing towards an invisible surface. When they breach it, the night air is warm, and the Speed Force hauls them effortlessly out of the water onto thick, black-rocked ground, dripping silver water onto the shaley stone. It disengages Barry from its back in a single smooth crouch, shaking out its fur and lumbering ahead.
Come.
Barry follows.
They walk until Barry's feet are sore and then the Speed Force sits and Barry sits beside it, pressed against its side, magnetically drawn. The Speed Force considers him for a long time, turning its head to snuff him, just once, a barrel-chested whuff that sends sparks across Barry's shoulders, before turning back to regard an empty sky.
From the darkness, points of light emerge. Barry watches, entranced, as the Speed Force conjures stars for them in the countless millions, blue and red and yellow, twinkling overhead. A great fatigue washes over him as the bear leans down to rest on all fours. Sliding down its side with his back pressed against it, Barry closes his eyes. Its simple respiration is deeply restful.
Why, he wonders, can't he bring them here? To bask under these stars forever, free of pain, free of suffering, free of the entanglements of life. There's no need for human things here, no desire for creature comforts. All he has and needs is right beside him, breathing slowly, deeply, thoughtfully.
He asks it without looking at it. Why-did-you-choose-me?
A deep, inexplicable affection pours over him. Because We Are Family, it replies, and Barry opens his eyes and there is a ghost in front of him, a ghost with golden eyes, and he stands and hugs it and it disappears, sinking under his skin.
He doesn't know how he knows, or if he knows at all, but he feels the Speed Force there with him and trusts it enough to close his eyes once more and open them in the multiverse.
Overhead, a familiar starry sky twinkles back at him, and he can feel the cold and warmth, the surety and uncertainty, the presence and solitude as he walks.
It's almost three AM.
May 23, 2017.
He walks home and wakes Joe from a deep sleep, hugging him even though he grunts, "Bar, it's late."
He lets Joe go and can't find Wally and worries, and worries, and worries, but fatigue will let him do nothing but move onward. He finds Iris asleep and crawls into the space beside her, folding her into his arms. Projecting warmth, he feels her relax in his hold. Turning to him, she murmurs, "Hey."
He kisses her forehead. "Hi."
"What time'sit?"
"Early. Go to sleep," he whispers, and she shuffles closer and obeys.
He thinks about that vast otherness, that almost unreachable realm within him, and he wishes he could bring her there, her and Joe and Wally, Caitlin and Cisco and Jesse, Harry and maybe even HR. They'd be safe – like his dad wasn't, like his mother wasn't, because only he is Family, but they are Family, too.
Let-me-take-them-home, he asks the Speed Force. So-you-can-keep-them-safe.
He feels a hum inside him, a deep polar rumble. They Are Home, it replies. I Will Protect Them Here.
He has to trust it, like he cannot trust his own judgment, like even the Shadow will not dare to demand of its greater Self.
I Am Not Your Servant, the Speed Force reminds him, But I Am Here.
Curling an arm around Iris' waist, Barry closes his eyes and dares to dream.
When confronted, the plan works – Barry distracts Savitar while Wally spirits Iris away – and they almost make it.
But then Savitar's knifed hand arcs towards Wally and Barry intercedes, pushing him out of reach, and the knife smashes into his chest, into his beating Speed-laden heart.
Vision fading, he falls to his knees and tells the Speed Force, I-give-you—
My-blood.
My-life.
My-everything.
I-am-your-servant.
He doesn't hear Savitar die, but he hears a voice calling to him in the darkness, a familiar sound in a starless, gorgeous night.
Grass stirs underfoot. A voice he knows commands, Wake-up.
In the distance, thunder rumbles, and Barry hears it.
I Am Here.
Continued in End-All.