Chapter 11

Eobard had never been so uncertain of himself.

Before the Time Demon, he'd juggled a weird double-life of being Eobard Thawne, the son to a wealthy family, and being the Reverse Flash, the enemy to the hero of Central City. When he wasn't surviving as Eobard Thawne, the human, he was planning how to destroy the Flash as Reverse Flash, the metahuman. And the latter had consumed the larger part of his life until he couldn't recognize himself as Eobard the human anymore. But at least he'd known exactly how to handle that life; he'd had complete control of it.

Here and now, though, he was unable to fulfill his goals, unable to destroy his enemy, unable to be who he was meant to be - the killer, the monster, Reverse Flash.

Worse still, attempts to console himself by imagining the Flash's future demise faltered more often than not. When he started thinking of killing the Flash, his mind would wander without permission. He would find himself musing on all the civil and uncivil interactions he'd had with him, calculating them, scrutinizing them, analyzing every detail - every moment they made eye-contact, every moment they'd spoken, every moment they'd sparred - and it was odd. He started noticing more about Barry Allen, started to read more into their conversations than he should have, started to feel more of their connection than the hatred that had been so important to both of them. He felt more, like when they were in Antarctica together, and he knew it was wrong.

I need to get this out of my head as soon as possible. This is getting out of hand... It's fine though. I just have to handle this until the Time Demon is dealt with. I can do that. Simple, really. It's just a matter of time.

Eobard started, feeling a buzz from his pocket. Exhaling, he retrieved the holoblock. A message floated there above it like a judgemental reminder from hell.

Mother's party. You're late.
-Eisla

"Right," he muttered. "Sunday. That's today."

He stood, stretching. He crossed the cortex, going over to the bag he'd brought in. He remembered Allen's reaction to it and chuckled. He dug out his 3D printer, printed the best suit in its reserves, and speed-changed into it. Rushing through the laboratory, he ensured his tidiness in a mirror in the living area.

Done.

He messaged back. On my way,

He was crossing to the elevator when it pinged and Barry Allen walked out. He paused beside his reverse. "Where are you going, dressed like that?" He queried.

Eobard couldn't help the way he noticed the other speedster's gaze lingering on him...in an almost-uncomfortable way. That was not appreciated. "That's hardly your business, now is it, Allen?" he responded, glaring at him.

"Time Demon says otherwise."

Eobard sighed. "Fine. It's a dinner."

Allen folded his arms. "Dinner? With who?"

"A party," amended Eobard. "With...my family."

"Family party," Barry said, shaking his head. "That's...unexpected... But I guess you are a Thawne, so maybe not that unexpected."

"I have to go," Eobard said, starting for the door.

"Wait," Barry said, stepping in front of him. "I should come with you."

Thawne balked, eyes widening. "What? No. That's a terrible, horrible idea, even for you."

"Why?" He asked. "If it were the other way around, you would insist."

"Well, it's not...because you don't have a family, Mr. Allen," he said, trying to wound.

Bartholomew didn't even blink. "You'll have to try harder than that to get me off your case, Eobard... Anyway, I think you were right. Until the Time Demon is taken care of, we shouldn't go too far alone. I mean, there is only one Punch that Cisco made."

Why did that feel like an excuse? Eobard leaned his head back, rubbing his temples. Patience, he told himself.

Barry's face transformed into a grin, an evil one that was very unheroic, Thawne thought. Yes, he knew why it seemed an excuse. This had nothing to do with the Time Demon; Allen was looking to torture him. "And guess what, Thawne, I'm not giving you a choice, just like you didn't give me a choice when we went after Killer Frost."

Eobard rolled his eyes, trying to convey all of his irritation in that single gesture. "I really wish I could kill you… Or, you know, I could just tell my family that you aren't supposed to be there and they can have the guards throw you out."

"You wouldn't do that." The Flash sped away, reappearing in the blink of an eye, now dressed in a nice, dark-red suit. "Nobody likes a stick in the mud, after all."

Eobard hoped a criminal would rob a store, so he could escape the Flash. But there was no alarm, no pings from the holoblock, nothing to save him from this.

And even as the thought ended, his eyes were roaming over the other in his new, appealing outfit. He caught himself, gaze snapping to the other's eyes, which he swore were amused. "Fine. Fine," he said, "you win...this time. But if you somehow alert my family that you're the Flash or I'm the Reverse Flash..." he shook his head. "Time Demon or not, I will shatter your skull."

"Now why would I do that?" Barry asked, voice innocent. He moved toward the elevator. "A good party, a fine dinner - sounds great right about now, actually."

"You don't even like-" Eobard halted his words, fuming. He stepped into the elevator with him, resisting the urge to reach over and throttle him. "This is going to be awful, Allen."

After a few seconds, he realized he'd slipped up on how torturous this entire situation already was to him, and by the way Barry's eyes danced, the other speedster knew it.

"Shut up, Bartholomew Allen."

Flash laughed.

"You look ridiculous holding flowers," Barry commented. "Nice house, by the way."

"It's not my house, Bartholomew," Eobard returned, shifting his grip on the mentioned bouquet. "It's my parents' house."

"Well, then, they have a nice house. Stop calling me that, would you?"

"I will, if you shut your mouth..." he trailed off, adjusting his tone. "Just be as quiet as possible." He hoped his family wouldn't notice his...guest, though he doubted he would be so lucky.

Eobard took a step forward, wishing he could turn around and leave. He knew, however, that it was far too late for that. The two walked up the steps toward the grand family home, where the sound of sophisticated music drifted into the atmosphere. The two men stepped through the door.

"Whoa," Flash said, "I'm definitely not used to this. You Thawnes certainly have no humility, do you?"

The house was enormous, fancy in every sense of the word. Eobard wasted no time and went straight through the foyer. He stepped into the Ballroom, a cavernous space that was old-fashioned, yet elegant, the ceiling adorned with crystal chandeliers. The floor was polished to perfection, marble, shining in the bright light. The walls were just as smooth, containing a single, decorative fireplace on the side, and a glass display with ancient objects on the other. Two flat areas for holoscreens adorned the corners of the far side. The guests were everywhere, dressed smart and fashionable, so many of them. Eobard knew he wouldn't recognize at least ninety percent of them. The Thawne in him fought against the urge to shrink away from it all, even as the Reverse Flash in him wanted to.

"Eo!" Called an ecstatic voice over the din.

Eobard grimaced at the nickname, hearing Barry chuckle. He turned, seeing his sister hurrying over.

"You're late, but I'm glad you finally decided to show up!" she exclaimed. "If you didn't, I would have smacked you into next week!"

"Yeah, glad to see you too, Eis."

"This is a surprise," she said, eyes flicking to Barry. "Who is your friend?"

"This is Bartholomew Allen," Eobard said. "Bartholomew, this is," he sighed, "...my sister, Eisla."

"Hi," Barry said, shaking her hand. "Pleased to meet you. But call me Barry, please." He shot Eobard a look.

Eobard cracked a half-grin.

"Okay," she said, "so, Barry, what's your story? What do you do?"

Eobard slipped away from them, dodging through the people, hoping he could lose both Barry and his sister to the crowd. Maybe Eisla would annoy Allen enough that he would leave, though Eobard doubted that. He heard them talking, glad their conversation faded instead of followed. He picked out his parents near the punch table, a welcome smile breaking across his face.

"Mother, Father," he greeted, reaching them.

"Eobard Emberson Thawne," his mother said and hugged him, her hair silvery, smelling like roses. "I hardly believe my eyes." In spite of her age, her voice was still strong when she spoke. "It's good you showed. I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten just where we lived." She stared into his eyes, her own keen like a hawk's.

"How could I forget?" Eobard asked. "And even if I did, it's not like it'd be hard to find…"

She chuckled.

"These are for you, by the way," he said, handing the flowers over.

"You are a true gentleman, Eobard. Just like your father."

Eobard kept his face neutral. He knew her assessment was far from the truth, and it struck him how little his parents actually knew of his life.

"Not just like me..." his father said, lips twisting into a half-grin. A distinguished-looking man, he appeared young for his age, his sandy-blonde hair just peppered in gray, silver streaks in his short beard. A small yet noticeable scar adorned his cheek. Eobard recalled the story he liked to tell everyone about it, of the time he'd gotten into an incident as a younger man, wrecking his glider. "Don't trust this one, though, Dear," he continued to Eobard's mother. "He wants you to think he's a gentleman, but he's not... He's just on his best behavior with us, you know."

His mother responded, "Oh, don't worry, I know."

Okay, so maybe not that far off... Even if it's just a joke, Eobard thought. He replied, "It's good for you that my best behavior is also my natural disposition...in such situations. I'm still a Thawne, you know."

His father said, "oh, I know, and that's what worries me." His eyes danced.

There was a laugh from Eobard's mother.

They chatted for awhile about nothing important. Afterward, Eobard wandered away from them, growing bored with each passing second. He wondered why he bothered to show. He had little interest in socializing or keeping up with all the wealthy people of Central City. Sure, he knew he should. He was, after all, the firstborn child in the family, and so he should have involved himself more in their affairs...but this life just wasn't his other life, which he knew he could never let go of.

He knew that when it came down to it, he wouldn't be able to uphold the Thawne legacy. He was certain that task would fall to his sister, who was more for this kind of life than he.

He sipped at a beverage, sighing through his nose. It would be easy to slip away now, and speed off to nowhere. On the other hand, he didn't really want to get the earful that would entail, so he leaned against the table of drinks. Besides, Time Demon could still show, even if the possibility was low, and it didn't hurt to keep on guard, because Barry was still here.

Well, I hope he's getting tormented by Eisla... It would serve him right for insisting on coming.

"Eobard Thawne," said a voice in greeting.

Eobard turned to the owner of the voice, recognition filling him. "Larris Breckett," he replied, shaking the man's hand. "How are you?"

"Never better," Larris said, a grin spreading across his face. "Been awhile. Still on the run?"

Eobard returned the wry grin. "Something like that. How have you been?"

"As well as I can be," Larris replied. "Well, just wanted to say hello, and now there are others I must say hello to... Enjoy the party, friend. Glad you actually showed..." He turned and strolled away through the crowded room.