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S2, "The Reverse Flash Returns"
If Barry Allen had any sense at all, he would've seen this coming. Seriously dating – toeing the edges of falling in love – with a detective…which he lied to, pushed away, pulled back, loved (?) because of the consequences of being important to the Flash, that third wheel in the relationship he both hates and loves because Patty likes him for him, for the ridiculously awkward, nerdy, chronically tardy Barry Allen, and not for what a strike of lightning allows his body to do, not for what he chooses to do with his powers, and not for his fame. (But what is he without the Flash?)
She was a detective, for God's sake, a good one; she was Joe's junior partner on their metahuman task force of two; he was teaching her everything he knew. She was brilliant and canny and persistent and even though she never set her sights on discovering the Flash's identity – wasn't it inevitable?
It seems like it was.
He knows now that he cannot do what he needs to do without his team, his family. They all butted their ways in because of their specific talents or relationships to him previously, and he insists firmly to himself that they are all he needs. A romantic relationship (even when they seem easy and right and blissful) is a luxury, when he has the responsibility of protecting worlds. It's also absolutely unfair to Patty because every single moment of her life, anyone who knows who he is can – and will – target her. Drop her off buildings…
He absolutely cannot confirm it to her, even though she knows and he knows she knows, and she knows that he knows she knows. It's just a cycle of lies and why should the person he cares about like this have an invisible bullseye painted on her forehead?
It's become simple. He has to give her up, or she will die. And if he doesn't and she knows he's the Flash, it will only expedite the moment that'll come when Zoom –
So she leaves. And that's that. She tries to – to stay, begging him to come clean to her; if he stops lying and treats her like an equal partner in the relationship, she'll stay in Central City. But if he says the words aloud to her trembling, watery face, it will amount to the same thing as tying the noose around her neck with his own hands.
She leaves.
.
No one used to call him, before. But if he did get calls they'd be from Joe or Iris about dinner or from Singh about work. (And, unsurprisingly, he wasn't in the habit of answering.)
That changed. Every call he gets now – what if he doesn't answer, and doesn't know Cisco's been kidnapped or there's a dangerous metahuman in the Cortex or Joe is about to enter a dangerous shootout and needs the Flash. He rarely lets it go past the second ring.
And even though they just – broke up? – Barry answers Patty's call with the same urgency he answers everyone else's. "That's weird," he comments to Joe.
"Hey," he says into the phone, testing the waters.
Patty's voice is panicked and he goes into hyper-drive, muscles tensing and releasing and lightning crackling through his body as he waits for her to speak. "Barry, I'm – I'm on the train." She's breathy with fear. "There's a – there's a man with a gun."
Barry's mind works faster than anyone else's and he doesn't know what to do but he does know some things:
1. Patty Spivot is more than capable of handling a man with a gun.
2. Maybe she doesn't have her own gun anymore. What do cops do when they don't want to be cops anymore?!
3. Maybe she's scared because she doesn't have backup. She's used to a partner.
4. But she's tackled metahumans (no guns, though) by herself. On purpose.
5. Maybe she's actually scared and needs help.
6. What does she think he can do?
7. She knows he's the Flash. Is this something only the Flash can protect her from? Is she a hostage, being forced to say specific things because Zoom is pointing his wicked claw at her jugular?
8. Or maybe this is a trap, a ploy to make him reveal himself.
But if it is, it's a damn good one, because even if she's screwing with him for this little bit of revenge before she goes and lives her life, he can't possibly take the chance that she's not.
"All right, hold on – I – I – I'll get you help," Barry stammers, because he is genuinely terrified for her and for what he might have to face.
He knows rationally he's moved faster than this but everything around him is stock-still as he deposits his clothes and phone – barely remembering to jab the end call button so whoever's on the other side doesn't overhear Team Flash helping – and yanking on the suit, pulling the cowl up over his face even though everything is suddenly making him claustrophobic and he can't breathe and he needs to run.
Run, Barry, Run.
He's chased trains before, and they're almost laughable in their slowness, and he catches up in seconds and jumps on, vibrates the door open, he flashes through the train but no one has a weapon and Patty can't possibly have handled a genuine situation this quickly and then he's skidding to a stop in the aisle (everyone turns to stare but in a confused, not relieved, way) and Patty is still holding her phone, unworried –
"Is everyone okay?" he asks desperately, with just enough presence of mind to vibrate his face and vocal cords.
"Everyone's fine," Patty says with just a hint of attitude and her arm lowers and he sees his name on her screen – "It was a false alarm."
It was a setup, but not by – by Zoom or Leonard Snart or that damned Reverse-Flash, but – Patty herself -
"But…" She's absolutely, dreadfully calm and he has no idea what to do – "Thanks for coming so fast, Flash." There's just a bit of a break, a helpless throatiness in her voice and it's suddenly gentle and they're so close – he starts to nod and smiles bitterly, snorting – no matter how emotionally hurt she was she had to understand, right? This is not okay. But maybe – but why –
And then – he has no idea what possesses him to do it (maybe he can't lie like this anymore, even (especially) because she is leaving), but – but then, for the first time, consciously stops vibrating his face and his voice and looks at her and his voice cracks when he says, "I – just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Before I go."
"Don't worry," Patty says with a faint smile, even though her eyes say her heart is shattered and jabbing at her internal organs with every breath. "Everything's good."
He can't stop this single rueful smile, and he's still not vibrating his face, and for a woman who spent so much time with him in the past few months (not to mention made love with him), he knows not that deep down that she could see the half of his face unobscured clearly, and recognized his voice.
There's nothing else to say or do, absolutely nothing that can restore his optimism that they could work (that his enemies will let them work), no way he can comfort her or ease her pain, not without killing her. But maybe the sight of his face will be enough.
He flashes out of the compartment and then, seeing her sad eyes through the window, lets her see him streak along her side of the train for the moment before he outpaces it.
There's some dark instinct that tells him (and Cisco could likely confirm), he will probably never see Patty Spivot again.