Days passed in small moments, in stilted conversations and familiar faces, and time spent each day at S.T.A.R. Labs, showing off speed and talking alternate-universe science.
Day one: Dr. Wells and Tess drove Harry and Jesse to their home, a moderately sized house in the middle of Central City. Harry could feel the other Wells's excitement hanging in the air like a physical force. Jesse shot him amused looks every once in a while, clearly feeling it too.
Harry let it linger until they arrived at the Wells' house. "All right," he finally sighed. "Your questions?"
The other Dr. Wells's eyes immediately lit up, and Harry had to grin. It reminded him so much of himself, back before… his Tess had died, Jesse was kidnapped, Zoom had come to this Earth. Before everything. Back when his life was composed of science and Tess.
"First, how are alternate Earths differentiated? Second, how is travel between them possible?"
Harry and Jesse exchanged amused glances, both of them wondering exactly how long this list of questions would end up being.
"Well, each Earth vibrates at a different frequency…"
It was a long night, filled with scientific inquiries, laughter, and a few glasses of wine.
Day three: Barry was in his lab when there was the sharp rap of knuckles against the doorframe. He glanced over his shoulder to see Eddie there, who grinned at him.
"Iris wants to know if you'll come to lunch with us."
"Really?" Barry hadn't been sure whether he was friends with Iris, let alone Eddie.
Eddie nodded. "You can't hide out in your lab all the time. You've barely said a word to me or Iris the past three days."
"Yeah, sorry, I've been… kind of sick." Barry shrugged sheepishly.
"Glad you're feeling better. So are you coming?"
Barry nodded immediately. "Sure." He closed the file he was working on and joined Eddie and Iris, ignoring the twisting in his gut at the thought of having to make it through a whole lunch with no idea of their shared history.
"How have you been, Barry?" Iris asked once they were settled in at the restaurant.
"Um, fine," Barry said. "What about you two? Everything going well?"
They glanced at each other with near-identical smiles. "We're doing great," Iris said.
"We're thinking about buying a house," Eddie added.
"Eddie's apartment is great, but you know we've wanted more space for a while. The house is a first step…"
"And then Iris insists we should start thinking about having kids," Eddie finished. He raised his eyebrows at Barry, miming terror.
Iris hit him in the arm. "Consider yourself lucky that I haven't started insisting on having kids yet, just thinking about it." She flashed him a smile.
Barry laughed, ignoring the two brief spikes of emotional anguish that jolted through his heart at a pair of memories. One, Iris, And when you get back I'll be here. It was sadness at the knowledge that she now would never be, all twisted up with happiness for her and Eddie because Eddie was a hero and deserved to be happy, and wow was that complicated so it was much easier to focus on the second note of grief.
And that was Joe, My grandkids are gonna call me Poppa, and again the knowledge that they now never would. Less complicated, but because of that a lot more intensely painful.
Before Barry could think too much about it, the words burst from his mouth. "I'm sorry that your dad won't be able to meet his grandkids."
Both Iris's and Eddie's expressions fell.
"I know," Iris said softly. "I miss him. I wish there was some way…" She trailed off.
Barry twitched toward her, instinctively wanting to comfort Iris. He stopped when Eddie put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. Iris leaned her head against his shoulder, tears glimmering in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Barry said. "I shouldn't have brought that up."
"It's all right," Iris said after a moment. "I don't think about him enough. Joe was… a wonderful father. He was always willing to help anyone, not only as a cop but as a person."
Barry couldn't help but feel like this was his fault. If he hadn't erased the other timeline…
"It's not your fault," Iris said, and Barry's gaze snapped to her.
She wasn't looking at him. She was focused on Eddie, who had stiffened next to her.
"Hey, I mean it," Iris insisted softly. "I've told you a hundred times. You were new, he ran in ahead of you. It's not your fault."
"I know," Eddie said, his voice tight. "But I was his partner, I should have… I wish I could go back in time and change things."
Barry had to remind himself, very strictly, of how going back in time would only result in Eddie dying instead.
All in all, it wasn't the best lunch Barry had ever had.
Day four: Barry returned to his apartment after work to drop off his CSI gear before going to S.T.A.R. Labs, an action which was becoming habit after only a few days.
The routine was interrupted when he walked into his living room and jumped probably half a foot in the air.
"I'm back," Thawne said.
"And you decided to just let yourself into my apartment and give me a heart attack?" Barry demanded.
"Turns out, it's impossible for even a genius scientist to get a job or a place to live with no Social Security number and a birth date the computers won't even display." He rolled his eyes. "So, feel free to gloat. You and S.T.A.R. Labs are my only hope." He paused. "The heart attack was just a bonus."
"Sure. Just invite yourself in." Barry was on the verge of forcing him to leave, but… well… it was Barry's fault that he was stuck here. He imagined the situation in reverse, him trapped in a time far from home with no recourse. He considered the other timeline, Thawne saving his life again and again—for his own reasons, of course, but what counted more, intentions or actions? Besides, all he'd ever wanted was to go home.
And then again, Barry had created this timeline so he could return to his parents (and they were his home, in a way, weren't they?), not caring about the cost (which was Joe), so how different really was he from Thawne?
It was all far too complicated, as many things in this timeline seemed to be, so Barry chose the path of least resistance. "I'm going to S.T.A.R. Labs, are you coming?"
At least there was no sign of red lightning anywhere around Thawne.
Every day: A treadmill in one of S.T.A.R. Labs' many basements. Barry not only demonstrated his speed, but also some of the tricks that he had learned—phasing, running up walls, throwing lightning. His audience always consisted of Harrison (Dr. Wells insisted they call him that), Tess, Harry, Jesse, and now Thawne. Cisco, Caitlin, Ronnie, and Hartley dropped by sometimes whenever they could sneak away from their real work, Cisco the most and Hartley the least.
Harrison gave Thawne a job, and offered Harry one as well. Harry turned it down on the grounds that he would be going home soon, which seemed less and less likely as each day passed.
Both Harrison Wells got along splendidly. They enjoyed playing pranks on the other employees of S.T.A.R. Labs. Jesse informed Barry that rumors, ranging from secret twins to secret passages to time travel, were flying around the labs about how Dr. Wells could manage to be seemingly everywhere at once.
Every day, Barry informed Harry about the newest difference he'd found in the timeline. Day two, "Guess who I saw working at Big Belly Burger?"
Harry would never, of course, deign to guess, so Barry continued with hardly a pause. "Griffin Grey. Still eighteen. I have to admit, I panicked a little bit."
Harry gave him an insufferable smirk. "Good. There are consequences when you mess with time."
Barry gave him a 'really?' look. "Thanks. I'm so glad you care about me."
Day three, "Looks like Vandal Savage killed Kendra and Carter in this timeline. According to the baristas at Jitters, Kendra disappeared suddenly with no warning."
"You know, Allen, there are consequences when you mess with time."
Barry shot him the same look. "Why do I even talk to you?"
Day four, "I looked up Professor Stein and I don't think he's even visited S.T.A.R. Labs."
Harry didn't even have to say anything, just smirked at Barry, who immediately rolled his eyes in return. From then on, it became a daily event—Barry would find something to share about the new timeline and they would exchange smirks.
Day ten, "Apparently Tina McGee is a prostitute here."
Harry, who'd automatically started his usual self-satisfied expression, froze and blinked confusedly at Barry. "What?"
Barry laughed. "Kidding. Just wanted to see if you were still paying attention. She's still running Mercury Labs. I assume that's a constant in every timeline on every Earth."
Harry snickered. "Go back to running, Allen."
Barry went back to the treadmill, laughing to himself. Despite scattered tragedies, this timeline wasn't too bad.
Day sixteen: When Barry woke up, he found Thawne in the living room, staring at a laptop he'd pilfered from S.T.A.R. Labs. It must have been too early in the morning for Barry to process properly—he could have sworn he heard high-pitched voices speaking in another language coming from the laptop.
Staying a few steps back, he peered over Thawne's shoulder and had to stifle a laugh. Nope, he wasn't hearing things. The self-proclaimed genius from the 22nd century, evil speedster, Barry's arch-nemesis, was watching anime.
Barry shook his head and gathered his things, not commenting. He'd found his new-timeline factoid to share with Harry, that was for sure.
When he arrived at his CSI lab, a very familiar face was already occupying his chair. Someone in a parka and goggles. Barry struggled to suppress his instinctive urge to flash into action.
"I hope you were serious about your offer," Leonard drawled, slowly spinning the chair to face Barry. "Because if not, I'll have another body to dispose of, and that's just inconvenient."
"Jeez, what is with everybody just showing up places?" Barry demanded. "Haven't any of you heard of knocking?" It didn't help that both Snart and Thawne had been his enemies. At some point, Barry was going to accidentally hurt somebody on instinct.
Leonard just stared at him, expression unreadable—either because of the goggles and hood, or because his expression was always sarcastic anyway.
"Yes, I meant it." Barry lowered his voice to a whisper and approached Leonard. "What do you need?"
He dug in a pocket and pulled out a small vial of what looked like (and probably was) blood.
"Need you to run some DNA."
Yup. Blood.
"Sure." Barry hesitated, suddenly understanding what Felicity must have felt like the first time Oliver approached her with odd requests. "Is this person dead?"
"Not yet." Leonard tossed him the vial. Without his speed, Barry definitely wouldn't have caught it. "He's not a good guy, if you were wondering. Your conscience can remain clear."
Barry nodded. "Okay." He went to the DNA analyzer and emptied the vial into it. "It'll take a few hours. I'll bring you the results after work."
"Thanks, kid." Leonard stood up and started toward the door.
"Wait, how did you even get in here without anyone seeing you—?" Barry asked, but Leonard was already gone, with no more reaction than a hand raised in farewell.
Barry stared after him for a moment, and then shrugged and started his actual cases for the day. His amount of work was relatively the same as the other timeline—fewer metahumans, sure, but also fewer cases that the Flash solved. It had been a long time since Barry had to do any more than five seconds of forensics and five minutes of running to solve a case. This was a lot more tedious.
The DNA sequencer beeped its completion in early afternoon. Barry eagerly ran the results through the police database.
When it printed a result, Barry frowned at the paper. That didn't make sense. Leonard Snart asking for an ID of this DNA?
Yeah, things were definitely different in this timeline.
He didn't get much work done the rest of the day, too busy thinking about the eight-letter name on that printout. The moment the clock reached five, Barry was out the door—maybe using just a bit of superspeed.
Just a bit. It was five-oh-one when Barry entered Leonard's lab, not even bothering to knock.
"Why did you have me search Mick Rory's DNA?" He tossed the paper onto Leonard's desk.
Leonard looked up, tilting his head. "Is that the name it came up with?" He rolled his eyes and picked up the paper, examining it. "I should have guessed."
"What's going on, Snart? Who's Mick? Why did you have me run his DNA?" Barry crossed his arms. "What's your end goal as Citizen Cold?"
"To save my city, of course."
Barry squinted at him, trying to discern whether he was serious. "You're ripping off the Arrow's motivation?"
"It's the Green Arrow, kid, don't you read the news?" Leonard smirked and slammed the DNA results back onto the table. He leaned forward. "Look, Barry, I don't know who you are. Why don't you tell me how you knew who I was? Then maybe, depending on the answer, I'll give you some answers in return. Sound fair?"
"Sure." Barry hesitated, trying to think of something believable.
"Let me remind you, I have a very deadly gun, and I don't like lies," Leonard added coolly. "If you know about my sister, you know about my dad. The cops believed him, I didn't. Now he's a liar and a popsicle."
"All right." Barry took a deep breath. "Time travel."
Leonard gave him an incredulous look. "Have to give you credit, kid. I didn't expect insanity as an alternative to lying."
"Really. In another timeline, I have superpowers, and we're…" Barry couldn't come up with the correct word. Enemies? Allies? Friends? Heroes? All true on occasion. None totally accurate. "Acquaintances. You've got your cold gun, and I have…" He demonstrated with a lightning-blazed circuit of the small room. "Superspeed."
Leonard looked, for the first time, disconcerted. "All right. Go on."
"I ran fast enough that I traveled back in time. I changed something in the past and when I returned to this time period, I saw the newspapers about somebody in a parka with a cold gun." Barry shrugged. "Same methods, same outfit, same person."
"Were we fellow vigilantes in your timeline?" Leonard was back to lining every word with scorn.
"Well, I was a vigilante in Central City, known as the Flash, and you were a criminal for a while, known as Captain Cold, and then you were only sort of a criminal, and then you started time-traveling with this guy from the future in order to kill an immortal sociopath, and then…" Barry trailed off, neither wanting nor needing to finish the sentence. That was probably enough to absorb.
Leonard let out a dry laugh. "Sure. Sounds like me. I do like the name Captain Cold. Maybe I'll start using that."
"So, Mick Rory…" Barry started.
Leonard's expression darkened and he glared down at the paper. "That son of a bitch is the reason I became a vigilante. Sure, Lisa… she was part of it. But a couple of years ago, young girls started disappearing. When I began to investigate, I found a far deeper conspiracy going on. A human trafficking ring, being run out of Central City."
"Seriously?"
"I got one of the smugglers alone, politely asked him a couple questions. He wasn't very willing, but I got an alias out of him with a bit of persuasion. The ringleader of the whole thing goes by Heat Wave. Probably because any evidence of theirs, along with any bystanders, ends up in ashes. Finally got to meet him face to face recently. Got that blood. Mick Rory." Leonard shook his head. "Recognize that name from my first week on the job. Arson. No wonder."
He tilted his head and looked at Barry. "You recognized the name too. Who's he where you come from?"
Barry stumbled over his words. "Your partner in crime… and time travel. He was never very nice, but I can't believe that he's…"
"Well, welcome to this timeline. We can't all time travel, kid, and we're not all heroes. Thanks for your help."
Leonard made a shooing motion. Barry started to back out of his lab, and then paused. "You will let me know if you need any more help, right? I still have superspeed. And it's still my city."
"It's my city, kid."
"Well?"
"We'll see," Leonard said, returning to work on some device.
Good enough. Barry left, headed down to the basement, and thought about a human trafficking ring in Central City.
He'd assumed, with no metahumans around, Central City would have no need of the Flash.
But now… maybe he should make sure his suit was still in the closet. He might need it again soon.