Chapter 2

How did this happen? the Flash couldn't stop asking himself. He shook his head and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His brow scrunched and he narrowed his eyes. He worked his jaw.

"Would you please stop?" Groaned his reverse.

Barry realized that his foot was scuffing the metal floor, creating an unpleasant noise. Through great effort, he stopped. He met the dark gaze fixed on him. "I'm bored."

"I could try to kill you," suggested the Reverse, scratching the stubble on his face.

"Like that'll do us any good."

"Heh. Regardless, I never imagined this would be how our story ended, Flash. It's rather...dull."

"It doesn't have to end like this, Thawne," the Flash replied, shifting against the wall. "Maybe if we put our heads together…" He closed his eyes, regretting his words. Why had he bothered? He knew the response that would come.

Thawne stiffened, eyes narrowing. "If... What...? We work together like allies? Just how in any universe is that conceivable?"

"I don't know," groaned the scarlet speedster, rubbing his temples, "but I wish I did... I'm going to go crazy if I spend too much more time here."

The other gave a hoarse laugh. "That'd be fun to witness."

"Maybe..." Flash said, standing up. He turned, hands searching the blank, unyielding wall. He vibrated them.

His reverse gave a condescending snort. "There's no escape from this place. Even I acknowledge that. Wherever we are."

Barry spun around, annoyance burning in him. "Look, Thawne, we can stay here forever, or we can actually try to escape."

Reverse Flash shook his head. "Yeah...no... Not likely, Allen. Even if I wanted to help you... I wouldn't know where to start. I have no information on this...whatever this place is. Gideon isn't responding, so I can't get any readings on it, at all." He tapped his wrist in demonstration.

"My suit's not detecting anything, either."

Thawne half-smiled, shrugging.

"This is your fault, for time traveling last," the Flash shot at him, wanting to wipe his smug look away. He was in the same predicament, after all. "For changing the timeline... You must have pissed the Speed Force off."

Thawne retorted, "and just how many times have you jumped through time? How do you know this isn't because of you? Hell, I'm the villain, yet you do a pretty good job of screwing things up without me."

Barry wasn't sure what he meant. He paused, a moment passing before he realized... "If you're referring to Flashpoint, then that was also your fault," he insisted, clenching his jaw. "You're the reason I did what I did."

"No. You just don't like being wrong," responded the other. He put his hand on the ground and began tracing, appearing bored.

"That was a long time ago, anyway," Barry said. "Why would that...thing care about that now?"

"It wasn't so long ago, for me," the Reverse Flash replied.

"Sit there and be useless then…" He tried another angle. "To be honest, I didn't know you gave up this easily. I thought you were more stubborn."

Thawne grinned. "Oh, I am stubborn. About resisting you. If sitting here is one way to end your little...reign of heroism, well, fine, I'll sit here until the end of time."

Anger seized Barry. He slammed a fist against the wall, ignoring the ache it sparked in his hand. Fuming, he sank to the floor, glaring at his nemesis. "You can't call a truce for the sake of freedom, huh?"

"Not a chance."

A groan escaped Barry, and he thumped his head against the wall. "Isn't that a little...immature...?"

His answer was a laugh without mirth.

Eobard could not take his eyes off of the scarlet speedster.

In the gray cell that hummed around them, all he saw was the stark red of the other's outfit in the otherwise colorless space. And he was starving. Not for food, for hunger seemed not to be a concern in this weird prison - which was odd in itself, and led to several question - but for the other's suffering...and his variation, for his color, his life, his vividity. The Flash had always had all of that - a strange brightness in spite of every dark thing that'd ever happened to, or was caused by, him. It made his torment all the sweeter and more satisfying to witness, to observe the way it all would fade into nothing one wonderful day that Eobard looked forward to.

He doesn't deserve happiness, and it doesn't make sense for him to have it... He should be as grim as death itself… So much time has passed...so many awful things must have occurred… It doesn't matter, though. None of that changes who he is.

Bartholomew Allen had fallen silent, to Eobard's relief, but his body was rigid in pure frustration and his molecules were charged with Speed Force. The Reverse Flash sensed the increasing frustration in his enemy, in the way his electricity buzzed with a greater intensity with passing minute. In all of their clashing, he'd become very attuned to the Flash. He knew the other speedster the best...perhaps better than the red blur knew himself. He always sensed how the other felt, could guess it through the slight changes to his vibrating molecules, posture, expression. Thawne was certain, without a doubt, that Allen could feel the same for him, even if the other did not acknowledge it.

It was the intimate understanding that two immortal enemies held for each other, an understanding that went beyond flesh and blood, but was intertwined with time and space...and born of their identities.

Thawne watched with the eyes of a hawk, because he refused to miss a moment of this man's discomfort. He watched the faintest flickers of millions of leaping molecules - electricity. Energy surged like a silent, invisible wind around the crimson form. In the whites of his eyes, super-charged particles flickered. The Flash almost seemed to glow.

Interesting, Thawne noted. If I tap into the Speed Force, will it help? He bit the inside of his cheek in thought, chewing. And would Bartholomew find himself unable to look away from me - a spot of color in this metal prison?

No, Eobard thought. Accessing the Speed Force would make his own perception of the world slow down. And causing this imprisonment to feel longer than necessary was not something he wanted to do. He had the suspicion that the Flash was doing it without realizing - an instinct.

Of course, it wasn't long before his foe noticed his unbroken gaze. Annoyed eyes met his. "What?" snapped the Flash.

"Just you." Eobard snorted. "Crackling over there like a broken circuit board... Should have guessed you wouldn't be able to stay silent for very long, either."

"You're one to talk. Remind me, who is the one always boasting in our fights?"

"Me, but you're always yelling how I'm a villain and such... Besides, I only talk when I have a point to make."

"Don't we all?"

"No," he replied. "Many people - yourself included - like to talk to hear themselves talk."

Allen barked a laugh. "You're ridiculous."

Silence followed the conversation, but after a few moments that weren't quite long enough, the Flash broke it. "It's irritating," he muttered.

"What's that?" Eobard could guess, but he wanted to hear it spoken aloud.

"You. Staring."

Eobard grinned. "Good."

You think me immature to resist you now, when we might be able to escape with each other's help. But our fight is everlasting, a beautiful thing. Would it not be more immature to throw it away for something so petty as this? You're a fool, Flash, have always been. Thanks for reminding me. But you're an entertaining fool, I suppose I owe you that, to acknowledge it to myself. I wonder, though, did it ever occur to you what you would do? Did you ever dream of hating someone so deeply as I hate you?

You know I would die to kill you - not that it would come to that - but do you feel the same? Would you die for an end to this battle, Allen? Would you bleed your last if you knew I had bled my own, if it truly was all over? Isn't death supposed to be the answer to all of this?

No. Why ask? I know the answer, already - you wouldn't. You're a hero.

But you never knew the meaning of the word. I'm proof of that.

I have to prove you wrong.

If death is the only answer, but the answer you won't choose, then there can only be one death. Yours. It's strange to think of it like that. What if you were gone? And I lived on? Wouldn't that be...impossible, somehow? Wouldn't it be impossible, to exist without my opposite? Like having hot without cold, or white without black, or peace without violence, or love without hate... It cannot be. All forces equal out. It is scientifically proven. So why should one of us win, alone? If one wins, we should both win. If one loses, we should both lose. But we hate. We fight. We bleed. We are enemies. There can be no united victory.

No, there can only be defeat, and it can only be yours.

See? Eobard chuckled to himself. We're already a paradox.

"What now?" the Flash muttered from where he stood on his side of the cell, leaning on the metal wall as though hoping it would give.

Eobard leaned forward, chin on his knees. "Nothing. Well, nothing important. I was just thinking how amusingly idiotic you are. You aren't going to come up with a solution, standing there like that."

There was no response, no verbal one. All the same, his words seemed to trigger a reaction. Just as Thawne understood when the Flash was frustrated, he knew when the other had given in and lost. He felt a surge of routine triumph when the Speed Force evaporated from the other like smoke, and he sank down the wall. He sat, defeat prominent in every line of his body.

"You know," Eobard said. "I told you it was pointless."

Silence was his answer, once again.

"Nothing, huh?"

After enough time had passed, Eobard learned that the silence was just as infuriating as the other's rambling. His ears were buzzing, craving some kind of stimulation in the emptiness. To end it, he asked his nemesis, "do you ever wonder what it might have been like if we weren't destined to be enemies?" He raised an eyebrow. "What if the old team had stuck together? What would that be like?"

"So much for talking only when you need to make a point," groused Allen from where he lay on the floor, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"I thought you were aware that I lie, Flash," Thawne pointed out.

"Don't worry. I'm aware."

"Good."

"To answer your question - no, I don't think about it." Allen's tone indicated he had no interest in pursuing that conversation further. He changed the subject. "How long do you think we've been here?"

Eobard rubbed his chin in thought. "Around a week, perhaps?"

"Really?" His opposite asked, sitting up and facing him. "That's...a long time...considering that..."

"What?"

"I wonder why we haven't needed to eat...or drink...or sleep?"

"I have a few guesses," Eobard said, "maybe we're not in a three dimensional space. Maybe we aren't even physically here. Maybe it's a complex illusion. Or maybe it's some high tech prison which keeps us alive without us even realizing it… Whatever is holding us, it obviously has very different rules to play by."

"I'm going to lose my mind, for sure."

"I lucked out."

"What does that mean?"

"Between the two of us, I'm the one who is far more patient. This will be that much more torturous for you than me."

He felt it - a stab of annoyance, a flicker of lightning, a faint buzz of Speed Force. Allen scowled. "Okay. Fine. Just what exactly do I have to do to get you to help me?"

"I'm not helping you," Eobard returned. He smiled. "Though if you want me to help you that badly...maybe start with pretending you don't know how to speak."

Another jolt of irritation hit his reverse. "Unbelievable," he said.

"Not a good start, Flash," Eobard said, wagging a finger in reprimand.

The Flash narrowed his eyes. "Okay, what if I do shut up? What exactly do I have to do next to get your help?"

Eobard blinked, hesitating to believe that Allen was actually considering his demand. He answered, "I don't know. I can't imagine any circumstances in which I help you..."

"We need to find some common ground, then."

"Heh. Funny idea, but... There's no such thing as common ground when it comes to the two of us, you of all people should know that."

To Eobard's uncertainty, a gleam entered the man's eyes. He leaned forward, "I know a few things we have in common."

Thawne couldn't explain the sudden discomfort that washed over him. "Oh? And what's that?" And he couldn't explain to himself why he felt certain this was a trap.

"We're both speedsters, for starters. We're both enemies. We both hate each other. We've been a huge part of each other's lives, for so long. Everything we are now, is because of the other. You can't escape that, Thawne, and neither can I. Just like we can't escape this cell...so yeah, a few things in common."

Eobard couldn't form a response to that particular line of thought. He finally broke eye-contact and began to trace the floor with his fingertip again.

"Come on," Allen insisted. "It's not like we'd have to help each other for very long...and perhaps if you help me, here, now, for a few simple moments, we can escape. You can escape. If we work together, we may just have enough strength. We just need to figure it out. And as much as I hate it...I hate doing nothing more. I'm guessing you aren't too happy with this predicament, either… Besides, if we get out of here, you'll get another opportunity to kill me - to end me yourself...to not let another do your work. Or are you too scared to face that thing?"

A challenge. Eobard could never back down from such, as much as he knew he should. He looked into those glowing eyes again, and they were alive with Speed Force, with determination. He wanted to destroy that resolve, but, he knew he wouldn't be able to. He did manage to force himself to hesitate. "Hmmm..." He cracked his neck, first to the left, then to the right. He raised his finger from the floor to point at the Flash. "You do have a point, Allen. For once."

"Well?"

Thawne sighed. "Alright. I'll..." he grimaced, "help you, despite how much I feel like vomiting at the thought. I'm only doing this for myself, in case you have any ideas otherwise… I wasn't lying, though. You are going to have to shut up while I think."

"Okay. Okay," responded the Scarlet Speedster. "Silent as the grave."

Thawne stood, stretching like a cat to work the stiffness from his muscles. He looked around once, asking himself, what the hell am I doing, helping the Flash like this? Well... I lie. I don't want to sit here until the end of time. I'd rather bring him down myself, anyway. And I'm helping myself, first and foremost. It was unfortunate that that means helping my worst enemy, but if I happen to get the opportunity to shove my hand through his heart on the way out, I'll gladly take it.

All of his current musings vanished. He leaned against the wall, folding his arms, allowing his mind to think of what might work.

"This prison is...interesting, to say the least. There's some kind of energy in it, and so far, we haven't needed to keep ourselves alive with the usual mundane needs. And the fact that there is stubble on my chin...and on yours...means that time has passed here. So, we aren't in a dimension outside of time." He nodded. "My best guess - we are in a highly advanced prison, which is somehow keeping us alive, maybe with that energy I sense, but we should still be...well, in our dimension."

Allen said, "that makes sense. We can still access the Speed Force here. Maybe we could use that to our advantage."

Eobard looked at the Flash. "As much as it pains me to say it - you may be right. I have an idea on that."