Chapter 12
Barry chatted with Eisla for awhile.
Then, the conversation turned...odd.
"So, Barry, how did you meet my brother?" Eisla questioned. "It's very unlike him to bring any guests over to these parties."
"Um," Barry responded. "Well...it was kind of strange, actually. We sort of...bumped into each other, just out and about. Yeah, and...well, we started talking and...we are-"
"Dating?" She guessed, grinning.
"W-what? What?" He stared, dumbfounded. Despite such an idea being crazy, maybe he shouldn't have been taken so off-guard by it. It wasn't like he could expect anyone blood-related to Eobard Thawne to be a logical person.
"It's okay," she said, mistaking his response. "I mean, I figured that must be it. I'm pretty sure he hasn't been with a girl since his high school days...and it's been years since Eobard has had a guest to one of these parties. He doesn't really invite friends to this."
"He has friends?" Barry couldn't help himself.
She laughed in response, as if he'd said a funny joke. "You're great, Barry. I see why he likes you. Yeah, if he's prickly, don't mind it. He's...Eobard, you know."
"I'm not sure he feels anything besides annoyance..." Barry couldn't help but realize how strange this conversation was. Indeed, gossiping like a teenager about his worst enemy was... bizarre. And there just wasn't any better word to describe it.
She waved her hand. "Pft, my brother may be bad at expressing himself, but he's got a lot of feelings, buried deep down. You just have to get to them."
"Okay, fine," he relented, "...but we're not...date-ing." Just saying it was difficult and weird, and was likely the cause of his weird pronunciation of the word.
"Hey," Eisla said with perfect understanding, "don't worry. I totally get it. He probably told you not to say anything. He thinks I would tell Mom and Dad or someone else and then they would find out and that they wouldn't understand, since they're a bit old-fashioned, but they would. They aren't that old-fashioned. He just isn't brave enough to tell them. I won't tell anybody, though. He can grow a backbone and do it himself. It's been ten years, almost."
"Look," Barry said, shaking his head. "We," he snorted, "aren't dating, and I don't think he's into anybody."
Her grin widened, if possible. Barry was beginning to wonder if every Thawne could pull that look off. "You're really bad at lying, Bartholomew Allen."
"I'm not..." he sighed, "I'm not lying. I must be bad at telling the truth, though..."
"Yeah, sure," she said,, looking like it was Christmas day. "If you aren't lying, then why are you here? Eo doesn't bring anyone to this house. I think it embarrases him, sometimes, being from such a distinguished origin… He has this bad habit of overthinking everything."
Barry tried to think of a good excuse, but nothing came to him.
"Hey," Eisla continued, "but you know how he's all serious? Well, I've got this perfect idea how to torture him." She giggled maniacally.
Barry was teetering somewhere between annoyed and uncomfortable, yet the idea of causing his enemy discomfort was somewhat...enticing. It always seemed like Eobard was out to do the same. Perhaps it was time for some payback.
"What are you thinking?" he asked Eisla, though he was wary, too, of any idea she might have.
She looked triumphant at Barry's sudden interest. "When the dance comes on later, you go and dance with him. That'll drive him absolutely insane. And it'll embarrass him. Then, the truth will be out, and he'll see that Mom and Dad don't care that he's not interested in a girlfriend. He won't like it...but it's for his own good. Trust me. I'm his sister."
Barry stared, unable to process that.
A man walked over. "Eisla," he greeted, pecking her cheek.
"Jeromy," she replied, face already morphed into a more pleasant and social look.
He grabbed her hand. "I know it's a bit early, dear, but would you care to dance?"
"Of course." She looked to Barry. "Talk to you later, Barry Allen."
She vanished into the party with her dance-partner.
Barry stood alone, trying to sort through the lingering discomfort he felt. The more he thought about their conversation, the less any of it made sense...
Until it did.
And he had to laugh to himself about it, because really...it was absurd, yet kind of funny.
Eobard drained his glass. He lowered it, eyes picking out Barry making his way through the people toward him. "Please tell me there's a metahuman attack," Eobard muttered when Barry was close enough that no one else would hear. "Is it too much to ask to be left in peace once in awhile?" He hoped his voice wasn't as pleading as he feared.
"Now you know how I feel...but no, no metahumans. There is something you should know, though."
Eobard saw Barry's eyes narrow, a hint of concern there. "What?" He asked, dreading the answer.
"Your sister was convinced you were hiding something from her."
"What? And she asked you ?"
"Yeah."
"Why? What did you say to her?"
"Well, she thinks..." he hesitated, seeming uncertain how to say it.
"What is it?" Eobard interrogated, feeling his heart beat faster. "She thinks I'm a metahuman? The Reverse Flash?"
"She-what? No. You are paranoid." Barry shook his head. After more hesitation, he blurted, "she thinks you're...into guys and that...we...that that's why you brought me to this party..."
Eobard stared at Barry, confused by those unexpected words. "Oh," was all he could manage. "She does?"
Barry quirked a brow.
The action struck the Reverse Flash with the full weight of all his words' implications.
"Wait a second," Eobard said, raising a hand to point at him. "You said... She thinks you're... Doesn't she? She thinks that?"
"Yeeeeaaaah," came the drawn-out reply.
Eobard started hard. Trying to push the parade of thoughts marching through his head away, he managed a huff of indignation. "Ah, well..." here, he clenched his teeth, "my sister is...unbelievably silly at times. She...is...the spoiled, surprise child, after all... And she must have hit the champagne already. That must be it." There was no way his sister could really believe that she was right, was there? No, he suspected she was just trying to get under his skin.
"Well," Barry responded, "she does seem to think you're hiding something. She's convinced it's that..."
His next words may as well have been an earthquake that split the Thawne family mansion in two.
"Maybe you should play along."
"What?" Eobard swore he lost a few brain cells. Or maybe he misunderstood what the other had said. "Again, what? Why?"
"I mean, they might start wondering if there is something you're not telling them...like I don't know...being a speedster. A murdering, sociopathic speedster, at that. Don't you think that would be a bit worse for them to assume than the fact that we're together ?"
How Barry spoke that word with nothing but casual calm, Eobard was unsure. He raised his eyes and looked out over the crowd, hoping to regain his own appearance of being unfazed. His voice smoothed out. "Sure, whatever, Bartholomew. But they aren't going to assume that I'm a speedster. That's like assuming I'm hiding a tail."
"It's not really that odd. You keep to yourself most of the time. You're brilliant with science, so much so that you have a degree in that field...yet you don't have a career at all..." Both of Barry's brows raised this time.
The Reverse folded his arms. Just how much of his life had his sister divulged, anyway? She was trying to irritate him, he knew, for not having a perfect attendance for these parties. "It's not like the economy is shining at the moment," he shot at the Flash.
"I'm just saying it might not be a bad thing to play along - to alleviate that feeling that you're hiding something from them."
Eobard squinted at Barry, trying to understand just what the other speedster was playing at. Why should the Flash get involved in this? The only answer was that his foe was planning something designed with his torture in mind. He moved his eyes back to the guests beyond the other, clenching his jaw. He wished he knew just what Barry's goal was with this. "Okay, Mr. Allen… What exactly does your intellect propose we do to rectify this unexpected development?" he asked, mocking, but felt like he was walking into a trap anyway, blind as a bat.
"Well...maybe we should...dance or something..."
Thawne's attention came to a full stop on Allen, disbelieving.
"I don't know," Allen shrugged. "Just to...throw them off the trail. I don't know," he repeated.
"That is-" ridiculous, Eobard was about say, ridiculous. Why would I ever do something like dancing with you? Just who do you think you are talking to, Flash? Have you forgotten who I am? What the hell even gave you such an idea? My sister? Your repetitive idiocy? What?
Yet, he found he couldn't voice any of it. There was a good chance, his family was catching on to him being less than honest. They were a bit...eccentric, but they weren't stupid. There was a real possibility they were beginning to get suspicious that more than a lack of employment had diminished his contact with them.
Maybe they wouldn't exactly come to the conclusion he was the Reverse Flash, or even a speedster at all, but they would start to wonder if his activities were less than legal. How was he surviving without a real career or even a basic job, they would wonder? They might start thinking he had turned himself into a metahuman, using his scientific background. There were many unidentified metahumans, and many stories of scientists worldwide gaining powers from experiments.
As silly as it sounded, making them think he was hiding this from them might throw them off his trail...for now.
Besides, he hadn't thought this situation through, either. If he had, he wouldn't have gotten into this mess. He hadn't given Barry a role to play - such as a potential work colleague or assistant - where he should have. He hadn't thought to give his family a reason why he had brought another man, a complete stranger, to this party without even the slightest warning, something unheard of from him.
He'd pulled 'an Allen' once again, doing something without thinking ahead.
And he could blame Barry for it - for jumping in on his plan without warning, for being the Flash, for distracting his thoughts.
Now, it was a matter of damage-control.
He folded his arms. "I cannot believe that I am saying this...but you...actually do have a point… Fine." Eobard gritted his teeth. "I guess I don't have much choice. Just for the record, I blame you for this." And yet, the faintest thrill ran through him at the look on Bartholomew's face, one he wasn't sure what it was - some mixture of amusement, victory, and uncertainty, perhaps.
Just what is happening? What did I just agree to, and did I really agree to it?
I did.
Please let this end soon…
I could just imagine all the ways I would like to kill him... If I can even manage that much...
Eobard wanted to grab a random glass from the table and dump its contents on the Flash's smug head.
