Warnings: violence, highly dubious understandings of how breaches work.

Enjoy!

Despite Joe's numerous, vocal misgivings, Iris had once spent a summer of junior high in a girls' football club. She'd told him it wasn't to work out any physical aggression: just a way to have fun with friends learning a new sport. In reality, it was somewhere in between the two. It was before she'd abandoned sports for the more solitary act of writing, back when she'd still clung to some hope of pursuing action and glory like her father.

Of the several games she'd participated in, the pre-game breath stuck in her mind most. Not the joyful sprints across the field, not the lion's-roar cheering from the stands, not the sensation of her plastic helmet slamming into the turf. No, it was the moment of sitting in a high school locker room beforehand, anticipation and expectation building, twisting into something resembling nerves. Running over careful training, sketched-out maneuvers. All of their planning was well and good. But the stepping out into the light was the equivalent of letting go of those plans and praying they would stay afloat on tides of unpredictability.

She felt the same way now, standing in front of the speed cannon for what felt like the thousandth time. That sick sense that everyone was about to be thrust into a whirlwind that had the potential to tear their plan to pieces in ways they'd never prepared for. And this time it was her who had written the playbook.

"This gun has been modified to work as a destabilizing agent," Cisco said, handing the futuristic-looking weapon to Joe. "A little kick to help you close the breach I leave behind in a hurry, if you absolutely have to."

Joe holstered his ordinary gun and took the new one dubiously. "How does it work, exactly?" He raised an eyebrow. "Or, do I even want to know?"

"It hyper-excites high-energy particles to weaken their structure." Cisco saw the look on Joe's face, clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It's like giving a a speedster a gallon of caffeine. Picture that, please. Then picture the epic crash that would happen afterward."

"Enough said," Joe said. "A gun that excites energy. How did I ever get mixed up in all this?"

"You got lucky," Iris said, who was checking over the mechanisms of the Boot gun, making sure everything was in place. The three staying behind at STAR had each chosen their weapon—Joe the energy disruptor, Iris the Boot, and Harry the tranq gun. Iris hoped that, between the three of them, they might have enough firepower should anyone unpleasant come through the breach again.

Jesse bounced from foot to foot. Anxiety blazed as clear as any other emotion across her face, but it appeared to be the productive sort of anxiety. "Are we ready, then?"

"Ramon?" Harry said, dipping his chin at Cisco.

Cisco plucked at the sleeves of his leather jacket. It looked like a regular jacket, but it was made of a material similar to Barry's suit. He'd kept it handy for a few months, but Iris had convinced him to wear it now. Like the suit, it would provide at least a little protection from impacts.

"All ready," he confirmed. "I mean, as ready as—"

"—we're going to be," Iris completed.

Cisco looked at her and swallowed hard. They'd always been friendly with each other—Cisco was usually so chipper it was impossible not to be magnetized to him—but Iris was surprised at how deeply their unspoken communication ran, now. Her instinct was to ask if he trusted her decision, but she knew that they both intrinsically placed that in each other. The man grabbed his weapon of choice, his newly-polished vibing goggles, from the table.

"We'll have to time this right," he said, tucking the goggles onto his face.

"Right," Iris said. "You project a vibe of me there. I say my piece. When I give the go ahead, you drop me and open the breach. Jesse, you're going to have to go fast. You're sure you can carry Cisco that far?"

"Excuse me," Cisco teased. "What are you implying, Ms. West?"

"I can do it," Jesse said. "I know exactly where the lair is. I take Cisco there when you give the go-ahead."

"Perfect," said Iris. One last twinge of regret hit her: regret that she couldn't accompany them to Earth-2 herself, regret that she would again be relegated to that passivity of waiting. But Jesse could only carry one person, and there would be no time to come back for Iris. This would have to do. "Let's go wreak havoc."

She and Cisco exchanged one more nod, she put a hand on his shoulder, and her world spiraled into blue.

The familiar rubber of the treadmill base slammed into Barry's injured ribs. The air punched up from his lungs, whistled through his teeth. He gathered it back, hoarse, wondering if it was possible for his oxygen capacity to have diminished in his time in the glass cell.

The haze of half-sleep still hung over him, so it was with surprise that he felt hands grip him by his front and slam him backward against one of the treadmill posts. It was with even greater surprise that he heard Caitlin's cry of "Don't touch him."

"Time to be a hero again, Flash," came Hunter's cold, poisonous voice near Barry's face. "You want to look the part, at least."

The top of the Flash suit still hung open, to give Caitlin access to the dozens of wounds on his chest, but Hunter zipped it back up, snapped the logo back in place. Barry realized why a moment later, when the dark speedster clipped the speed-stealing disc to the logo.

That was when the pieces finally came together. The treadmill, the speed-zapper, the fanfare. But Barry was too disoriented, too fever-delirious, to dredge up a reaction. Perhaps it was just a consequence of being outside the freezing confines of his cell for the first time in a long while, but he was suddenly feeling very hot. Hunter released him and he fell passively back, seated and slumped against the treadmill post. It would be a nice place to go to sleep, he thought. He could almost pretend it was a tree in a quiet forest, something to support him while he rested—

"You've been fixing him?" Hunter growled.

"I've been trying," came Caitlin's small, frightened voice from across the room. "You haven't given me a lot to work with, and the damage—it's extensive—"

"We just need him well enough to run," Hunter said. "Look at him. Can he run?"

"I don't—I don't know if—"

"Can he run?"

"I think so," Caitlin squeaked. "I mean, it's impossible to know for sure, and he should really have more time to heal, but—"

"Get up," Hunter said, shaking Barry so hard by the shoulder that Barry's eyes involuntarily slid open from where they'd fallen closed. "Time to work."

He stepped back, at least giving Barry a little room to gather himself. Across the room, Jay flanked Caitlin, who held a tablet in one hand while the other curled in protectively at her stomach.

"Caitlin is here to monitor you," Hunter explained, on cue. "Make sure you don't die before you're supposed to. We can't have that until you shed your speed. After that—well, perhaps then we can have a talk about putting you out of your misery."

Caitlin met Barry's eyes fearfully, her lips pressed tight together, but Hunter's words didn't have the impact he felt they should. They hovered a few inches over his head, less substantial than the pole against his spine and the warm disc thrumming against his chest. The words could not compel him to move, not when he felt he could melt straight into the treadmill and disappear. He was so tired.

"Come on, Barry." Caitlin's quiet voice roused him, drew his attention back to his body. "Come on, get up." Her earnestness, undercut by fear, necessitated his rising to his feet.

Much like the last time he'd stood on this treadmill, his legs were wobbly, and it took him a few tries to find any sense of balance. Even when he did, he felt that his body was slowing him down, as ridiculous as that sounded.

"Nice and easy," said Hunter. "Now run, Barry. Run."

"I won't," Barry tried, leaning heavy against the support handles, one last-ditch effort to resist.

"You will," Hunter corrected, "or she dies. We don't have to go through this charade again, do we?"

No, they didn't. Barry knew the stalling wouldn't work, he'd known it all along, but he still felt it was his duty to try. With all other tactics exhausted, he sucked in a deep breath and straightened his spine. Then he took his first step, then another, then another..

They were slow, halting, limping steps, but steps nonetheless. He tried to keep his upper body as motionless as possible, but each contact with the ground jostled broken bones. Step. Step. Hunter hadn't allowed Caitlin near anything sharp save an IV needle, so she hadn't been able to stitch up the gashes and stabs in his hip and shoulder. With each new step, he felt them tearing open again like wet tissue paper, blood soaking the bandages under his suit—

With that, halfway through another step, he pitched himself off the side of the treadmill and threw up the contents of his stomach.

Granted, there weren't many contents of his stomach, but the bile seared his throat all the same. He coughed, suddenly shivering violently despite the heat coursing through his veins.

"Pathetic," he heard Jay mutter. "Again, Flash. Or has your stomach gotten too weak for the hero business?"

Taking shallow breaths, Barry tried to bring himself back straight, but the taste of bile overwhelmed his senses and made his head swim. He remained hunched over the side of the treadmill, unable to move for fear of passing out or throwing up again.

Hunter nodded at Jay. In an instant, the time remnant shot away and returned in seconds with Killer Frost in tow. She accepted her situation with mild puzzlement, taking in each piece of the scene one at a time.

"Don't," Barry tried to say.

Jay addressed Frost. "If Barry here doesn't comply, you ice her." He jammed a finger toward Caitlin. "Got it?"

Caitlin's face whitened even further, but she managed to say, "You can't even kill me yourself, coward."

Jay ignored her in favor of Frost. "You understand me? Do what I say, and I might even consider letting you go."

In response, Frost simply wrinkled her nose. "You call this fit for action?" She gestured at Barry. "Please. Even if I wasn't a heat vampire I'd be able to feel the temperature coming off of him from here. What exactly did you do?"

Barry heaved, only amplifying the pain as his chest constricted. Sweat trickled down his temple, though he couldn't shake the chills. He hadn't felt this sick since—well, since his powers had made him impervious to sickness.

There was a long silence as all parties considered the conundrum Frost had presented. Then, slowly, Hunter turned to Caitlin.

"What did you do?"

The doctor tightened her lips, shook her head. "I—I didn't—" Hunter took a step toward her. She held her ground physically, but the words spilled from her lips in a rush. "The medicine I gave him to fight infection. It has the potential to induce severe side effects."

"You knew this?" Hunter asked.

Caitlin visibly swallowed. A flash of something like defiance crossed her face. "I knew he had an allergy, yes."

Hunter's face remained remarkably level. "Is it life-threatening?"

"Not if you allow me to treat it." The words tumbled from Caitlin's mouth, swift, rehearsed. "I'll need a few days, maybe—"

The blow came too fast for Barry to comprehend Caitlin staggered back, dropping the tablet to cover her cheekbone.

"Trying to buy more time?" Hunter growled. He raised a hand again.

"Stop!" Barry screamed. Or, rather, tried to scream. His voice, like the rest of him, no longer held any power—but it carried across the room nonetheless. "Stop. I'm fine. I'll do it. I can do this."

One foot in front of the other, one two, three steps. He could do this. He could show them. Ignore the fire, ignore the blood pooling in his boots, ignore the pain that stole his breath and told him you are going to die, Barry Allen.

For a moment, too, he thought it might work, that he could will his limitations away. Convince himself that it was all in his head, a mental block, that he could push himself just hard enough and ignore physical constraints.

But it hadn't worked when he'd tried to phase through the carbine wall, and it wouldn't work now. After a few seconds of clumsy, unbalanced jogging, his left knee gave out, and he crumpled.

As he lay there, trying to gather up enough breath to say I'm sorry, let me try again, please, he heard the order that turned his stomach cold.

"A shame you're not taking this seriously. Killer Frost—put an icicle through Ms. Snow's heart."

No. The panic rushed through Barry, drowning him. He scrambled for purchase. It couldn't end like this, not now, not to her. It was his fault that Caitlin had gotten roped into this mess. He hadn't stopped Zoom, and now she and everyone else was going to pay for his mistakes. Why couldn't he have just died when he'd had the chance?

He looked up, drawn sickeningly toward his friend's murder. But, impossibly, Frost had not moved an inch. Her arms stayed limp at her sides, fingers loose.

"Kill her," Hunter ordered. "Now."

"No," said Frost. "I won't do it."

Hunter paused, clearly not expecting this turn of events. Then: "She's your ticket out of here, you know. Kill her, I let you go. It was always your plan to kill her once you were free, wasn't it? So do it."

It would be over quick, at least, Barry thought. A swift death, if not painless, and then Barry could finally follow suit as well. Maybe they would even do him the service of an icicle through the heart, too: a speedy end. He couldn't stand drawing it out any longer.

"No," Frost repeated. "I won't stoop to your level. Go screw yourself, Hunter."

Barry couldn't believe what he was seeing, and neither, apparently, could anyone else. It was as if Frost had frozen them all, just for an instant, just enough time for a tiny spark of hope to flicker in Barry's chest. It was crushed too quickly when Hunter turned to Jay and gave him a nod.

"Very well. You know what to do."

An expression seared across Jay's face, and it took a heartbeat for Barry to realize that it was regret. Genuine, heart-rending regret. Jay, still standing behind Caitlin, placed one hand on her shoulder.

Barry's mouth opened in a scream in instant before Jay's other blurred hand sprouted out of Caitlin's chest.

"Here's how this is going to go," said Jay. Barry couldn't look at him, fixated only on the intangible hand and on Caitlin's mouth, opening and closing like that of a fish out of water. I like to fish with bait, Zoom had once said. "I'm going to count down from five. If I reach zero and you're not up and running, I will vibrate this arm just a little slower. I don't think I have to explain what happens when I do that."

"Please," Barry said. "I'm begging you, please. I'll do anything. Just let her go. I know you're better than this. You have to be better than this."

Jay's only response was, "Five."

Barry scrambled, grinding his palms into the rubbery treadmill and pushing up. A wave of fever-heat swept over him, and his legs again failed him.

"Four, three…"

Caitlin choked out a cry, and Barry felt himself verging on sheer hysteria.

"Please, please…"

"Two…"

"Hunter Wayne Zolomon."

Everything screeched to a halt. Barry hadn't heard that voice in days, maybe weeks. It echoed through the space, ethereal, but it inspired the same twist of tangible hope in Barry that it always had. He would know the voice anywhere, though he was remiss to hear it here, of all places.

He spotted her at the end of the room, shimmering with ghostly blue light, a vision. Iris West, unearthly in appearance, might have been an angel; but her eyes burned angry with the fires of hell.

"How did she get in?" Hunter asked, to which nobody responded.

"Hunter. Wayne. Zolomon," Iris repeated. "Grew up at 550 Cherry Street, middle class family, red bikes and basketball in the cul-de-sac. You were an above-average student, accepted to an advanced program at the elementary school down the road."

Barry wanted to shout a warning; he saw the electricity sparking at Hunter's fingertips. The dark speedster shot toward Iris, but his outstretched claws passed straight through her. She swirled out of view as though made of smoke.

"What the…"

"But you know all that." All heads turned to the right, where Iris had re-appeared. "After all, it was your childhood. That's not something you need to be reminded about." Her mouth curled, slightly, but her eyes remained hard and dispassionate. "James Logan Zolomon. Your father. Raised in Newport, Rhode Island by Mary and Charles Zolomon. Went to a respectable university in Indiana to study business. Then was, of course, drafted in the war."

"It's Vibe," Jay said, while Caitlin continued to hiccup in fear. "He's projecting her here."

"Or how about your mother?" Iris continued, now disappearing and reappearing right in front of Barry, as though she were barring the way between him and the Zooms. "Ashley Jane Zolomon, raised Ashley Lowe. Raised by a single mother in a small town in Kansas. Dreamed of a career in neurobiology. Met James at that same respectable Indiana college."

"Stop," said Hunter, and he again lunged, only for Iris to teleport from the left to the right. "How do you know that—"

"She was a wonderful scientist," Iris said. "A promising career ahead of her. You know, when she was seven years old, she won a prize at her local library for an illustrated report about dream theory. I wonder if you knew that." Her image flickered in front of Barry. He was fixated on the color of her sweater, a yellow so vivid it made his eyes hurt. "Do you think she'd be proud of you now? Is this what she dreamed of for her little boy?"

She held up a sheet of paper. It was facing away from Barry, but he knew that it was a photo. It didn't take much guesswork to deduce who the subject was.

With a roar, Hunter lunged for Iris again. She sputtered out of view, and this time she didn't reappear. Hunter fumed, his breaths huge and heaving.

"Find her," he said. "Wherever she is. Find. Her."

The words fell on deaf ears. With the two Zooms suitably distracted, Frost seized her opportunity and blasted Jay with a stream of cold, knocking him to the floor. With the arm extricated from her chest, Caitlin's knees buckled, and she collapsed as well with a loud gasp.

In the same instant, there was a crack of lightning, a streak of light, and Jesse and Cisco were suddenly standing at the end of the room. With his back turned to them, still facing the spot where the vision of Iris had just stood, Hunter didn't have time to react to Cisco's blast. The vibrations struck him in the back, and he soared past Barry into the wall.

"It's over, Zoom," Cisco said.

"Is that so?" Hunter groaned, levering himself up off the ground. Cisco tensed to release another blast, but in the next moment Barry felt himself dragged upward, an arm around his throat, Hunter's breath at his ear. A human shield. "What makes you say that?"

Cisco faltered, his uncertainty clear in his body language as he angled toward Barry. Barry's lids drooped. Just do it. Take the shot while you have it. "You're outnumbered."

"Hm," said Hunter. "And a fresh speedster in the mix, too, I see." The word fresh hissed through his teeth as though he were talking about a piece of meat, a creature of prey dying in the grass. He shook Barry, hard, eliciting a gurgle of pain. "What do you know, Barry? Maybe you're not as useful to me as I thought."

"Get your grimy hands off him," Cisco warned, brandishing his open palms, no matter how they shook. "I'm not afraid to use these."

"You've always been afraid," Hunter taunted. "But tell me—I'm outnumbered here, but I have this nagging feeling that there's a breach of your own creation sitting open on Earth-1. Will I be outnumbered in a room full of your non-powered friends?"

A moment of sudden dizziness disoriented Barry, and he realized too late that he'd been dragged back into his old cell. The arm around his throat released, and he dropped, all of his strings cut. Hunter sped away, knocking Frost and the others to the ground as he streaked out of the lair.

Cisco, Jesse, and Jay rose at the same time. Jesse, unable to hide her panic, looked at Cisco wildly for confirmation.

"Go," Cisco said. "I'll handle this. Run, Jesse."

Jesse was off in a shot, barreling back toward Earth-1 and leaving a sonic boom in her wake.

Thanks so much for reading! We're in the final stretch, and your comments are more appreciated than ever!

Till next time,

Penn