Chapter 25
Barry opened his eyes and started to push up. He stopped, sharp pain lancing through his skull, muscles burning. He dropped back, taking a moment to gather himself. "That didn't feel good," he muttered, rubbing first his temples, then his eyes. It felt like a horse had kicked his head in after he'd been stretched in some kind of medieval torture device. But the pain was receding, so that was a plus. Once the agony had faded to a few dull aches here and there, he looked around the medical bay in STAR Labs. His attention landed on Thawne. Surprise flitted through him. "What...happened?"
"You got poisoned."
"What? How?"
"High-velocity injection," Eobard responded with what sounded like agitation, "from a high-powered weapon. Probably illegal. The liquid poison was the bullet."
"Right." The scene on the street came back to him - the smug criminal, the prick of pain in his neck. "It went straight through the suit… That's the first time someone's used liquid against me like that..." He sat up with carefulness, breaking eye-contact with Thawne and dropping his legs off the bed to dangle. Thanks to superspeed regeneration, the lingering discomforts were almost all gone.
"The poison was Velocity-6. Do you know it? It's in your database..."
"Ugh," Barry replied in disgust, annoyance rising. "I never wanted to think of Velocity again… It's a Speed Force drug - and in certain forms, a deadly one. But, as far as I'm aware, nobody else has ever came up with that formula until now. And who would have thought it'd be Darkstar, of all people? You know, the last person who developed it wasn't even trying to make a poison."
"Wait a second. Did you say Darkstar?"
"Yeah. Before I fell unconscious, I heard the criminal mention his name. He's definitely smart if he was able to develop a poison just for me."
"Well, we need to take care of that assassin. He's becoming a problem."
"Yes, but we aren't killing him," Barry said, stern.
There was a vexed sigh. "Whatever you say, Hero."
He looked at Eobard, uncertainty filling him. For a brief moment, a strange expression flitted through his reverse's eyes, but it was gone in an instant.
"Hero," Barry said, thoughtful.
"Hmm?"
"I just realized this...but...you...saved my life, today. What, is that like the first time?"
"The fifteen years I spent in the twenty-first century hell notwithstanding...yeah, I suppose it is. But don't get a big head over it; I'm not facing that Time Demon alone," Eobard reminded. He tilted his head. "Tell me, how the hell have you been fighting criminals alone for so long?"
Barry stared at him for a few moments in silence before he replied, "that's the first time in quite awhile that one got so close to killing me."
"That's hard to believe."
"Darkstar is a very tough cookie." Barry pushed himself from the bed. He stretched and then walked out of the room. He called back, "besides, maybe it's partially your fault."
"And how would that be partially my fault, exactly?" Eobard's voice was right behind him.
"You distracted me before I left."
"Did I now? Oh, which reminds me, we should finish that conversation soon, too, before you really do die."
Barry said nothing and tapped the wall. The holoscreen turned on, the news bot in mid-speech, "-live from the scene of a recent hostage situation thwarted by the Flash. After going down in unknown circumstances, the Reverse Flash appeared-"
"Don't want them to know we're buddies, huh?" Flash said, tone light.
Eobard folded his arms, a sour look on his face, eyes stuck on the screen.
It was still speaking, "-he killed the perpetrator and sped off with the Flash, indicating that he wanted to kill him personally. We-"
Barry turned to Eobard, feeling a rush of anger. "Seriously? You killed that criminal? You just can't help yourself, can you?"
Eobard unfolded his arms and shrugged again. "Back to the pipeline, I assume? Just when I was making some headway..." He exhaled. "You know what? I'm getting deja vu. I'm starting to see a trend for when I actually do something to help; I rush in, somebody dies, and you get pissed afterward."
"You said you wouldn't kill anyone else. You lied."
"You know that's not all that uncommon for me."
"Why, though? Last time you lied about not killing, you had a reason. Not a good one, but a reason nonetheless."
"I thought he'd killed you, and I lost my temper," the Reverse blurted.
Barry froze. For a moment, he wondered if he'd heard wrong. "What...did you just say?"
Eobard repeated, each word measured with great care, "I thought he'd killed you...and I lost my temper... I...murdered him because I was angry." He snorted. "Heh, this really is just like the original timeline... I murdered that criminal in anger, too."
Barry took several moments to even come up with a response. "...Wha-? I don't understand... You weren't...dancing with joy?"
"...No."
"...You...didn't kill him that guy...to get at me?"
"No," Eobard repeated, shifting from foot to foot as though wanting to retreat from this conversation. "Not this time... For the first time in a very long time, I killed someone impulsively, and not because you did good; I did it because I lost control of my...anger...because..." He shrugged once more, as though trying to trivialize the truth behind his words.
"Because you thought I was dead?"
Eobard looked very uncomfortable now, and damn well did it serve him right. Barry wasn't letting him get away with hiding this truth, and maybe there was just a tiny piece of sadistic vengefulness in him, too, that was enjoying the other's torment. "Let me get this straight," he said, dragging each word out to the other's great and obvious discomfort, "-you killed someone to avenge me, and then saved my life the moment you realized I was still alive?"
"Um." Eobard flinched and looked away,
Barry, in spite of the seriousness of the conversation, had to grin. Then laugh - a short bark of amusement coupled with disbelief.
Eobard Thawne, a genius mind who almost always had perfect composure in every conversation, who spoke with almost flawless grammar, and rarily struggled with word choice and speech...
Had just ummed.
"I suppose that sums it up," Eobard mumbled. He looked up, blatant disgruntlement on his face. "Well," he said, his steady voice belying his expression. "Aren't you going to lock me up in the pipeline again? What, would that be lock-up number four, now? Or five? I can never keep track..." He stared at the Flash, brows furrowing as if wondering why Barry hadn't moved an inch yet. "Go ahead and try it. I have no regrets."
"You never do," Barry muttered. "Don't worry, though. I'm not planning on locking you up… Not yet, anyway."
Eobard looked surprised. "Not to look this gift horse in the mouth, but… Why?"
"A few reasons - one, you're a vengeful jerk, and if I locked you away now, well...I can only imagine what you'd do when Time Demon's gone to get back at me, and more people will just wind up hurt… And two, I don't really feel like tearing up half the city right now to catch you just for this one incident that I know you hadn't planned on. You didn't go back on your promise intentionally, and that's enough for me… For now ." He forced complete certainty into his tone, this time. "But don't mistake me - if you do kill someone again to get at me, I will do whatever I have to. I'll put you away for good."
"I see," Eobard said. "I'm...glad you're being sensible."
Barry stared at him, unblinking. "Besides, it seems a poor way to say thank you after you went through the trouble of saving my life."
Eobard stiffened at yet another mention of his good deed. "Please, don't thank me. I'm already sick to my stomach over this whole thing." Then, as if to himself, he muttered, "someone shoot me."
Barry hesitated, contemplating. He weighed the decision in his mind, because this decision would affect every moment from here on out. But he knew, that if there was even a single chance, however small… "You were right about something, Thawne."
Eobard looked abruptly smug at the admittance of his rightness, but Barry was fairly certain he had no idea what he was talking about. That suspicion was confirmed when the Reverse Flash said happily, "I'm right about everything; you'll need to be more specific on what you are referring to, exactly."
"I was scared, but I don't want to be afraid anymore. I almost died...and, it just seems kind of silly now..."
"Afraid...of what?" Eobard hesitated, like he knew the answer to his question, but wanted to hear it, to be certain.
"This."
The Flash closed the distance between them. He seized Eobard's shoulders and leaned in, tilting his head, connecting their lips. A rush of adrenaline sparked through him from the sensation. After a moment of evident astonishment, Eobard reciprocated with a slow gentleness that was so different from their last kiss.
Truth be told, Barry had always known that he'd felt a bit more than he should have for Eobard. There was a strange sense of a connection that had only grown stronger over the course of the past couple of weeks. And why couldn't he bend the rules just a bit? Just this once? And perhaps, in another timeline, another universe, another life, Eobard and he might have been allies and friends. They could have been…
He pulled away just enough to murmur, "I'm not scared, now. I don't know what this is or where it leads, exactly. I don't want to know, because it's probably really bad... But all I know, is that I want to...try it...before it's too late… I could literally die on the nexus... And, I know, this is probably the most reckless and stupid and dumb thing I've ever done...but so what? I want this… I want to be with you. No matter how little sense it makes." He brushed their lips once more before he stepped back.
Eobard stared at him like he'd grown a few extra heads and maybe some pairs of arms that had eleven fingers.
Barry had to laugh. "Speechless, Eobard?"
That seemed to jar the other's words loose. He spoke, expression growing suspicious, "...is...this some kind of elaborate joke?"
"What? No... You are so ungrateful, you jerk."
"I…" Alarm spread over Eobard's face. "No, Barry, that's not- forgive my skepticism, but can you blame me? How was I to know your hero complex would budge? I wasn't expecting that. Being sensible - especially twice in a row - is something no one should anticipate from you, Allen. But, since you're serious, I'm very thrilled to hear it." He grinned a grin that was unlike his usual, wolfish one - this was one of sheer merriment.
Barry smiled, too.
"I'm glad you realized what you wanted," Thawne said. "Denial is so easy... Acceptance is powerful... It's...hard to do, though..."
"You said that once before," Barry murmured, "a long time ago. And you were right."
"Like I said, I'm right about everything." the Reverse chortled. He hesitated, then said, "did you know, in the original timeline, it was so hard to accept that you weren't the man I thought you were? But once I did…"
"You became Reverse Flash?"
"Yeah." Eobard looked down at his black gloves. "I guess I should thank you, now."
"Don't mention it." When there was no response, Barry turned, speeding out of the cortex. He went to his room, hastily threw on his work clothes, and returned to Eobard. "I have to get to work now," he informed the other speedster.
"Wait just a second," Eobard said, "I…"
"What?"
The other speedster looked like he wanted to say something, but the words that left his mouth didn't seem to be those he'd been planning on speaking. "What...what about Darkstar? What if he strikes again?"
"I don't think he will again today. I don't think he expected you to show up, and he'll have to improvise around that...meaning he'll disappear for awhile." Barry wondered if he should press the issue of the other's hesitancy to figure out what was on his mind, but decided against it. Eobard would just deny. If he had wanted to say it, he would have. "I'll keep my ears and eyes open. I'll contact Whisper later, too. If the assassin sticks his head out of whatever hole he's crawled into, we'll find him."
"...Alright."
"Now I really have to go. I'll see you later." He spun on his heel and rushed from the lab.
Eobard wasn't sure if he had stopped thinking about Barry all day. The obsession was all-consuming. But this time, he didn't fight it. This time, he didn't despise it. This time, he wanted it. He wanted the Scarlet Speedster in his thoughts, because it was such a delicious turn of events. Barry was willing. Barry had agreed to this. Barry wanted this. It was such sweet triumph that flooded him at the thought.
How had he gotten so lucky? This was like winning the lottery, which was even harder to do in the twenty-second century. Miracles weren't supposed to happen twice, yet this one sure had. Maybe the universe was finally giving him a break, a reward, after all the shit it'd forced him to go through. After all, he'd never imagined the Flash would surrender to his feelings, to surrender to anything that related to Eobard, his Reverse. Maybe it was that selfish part of the other man that'd won him over, that same side that had caused him to run back in time so long ago and create Flashpoint. But really, none of that mattered. What did matter, was that Eobard would have Barry Allen. He would have the Flash, his once-hero-turned-enemy.
The perverse dichotomy of it thrilled him beyond words - a villain and a hero, entwined into one, like a black hole and an infinite source of light trapped together, destroying and feeding each other. God, it was too perfect. Almost too much so to be true.
A paradox - something that shouldn't exist because of the impossibility of it.
Yes. That is what we are.
Eobard closed his eyes. He yearned for the other to be entangled with him in every way possible. He wanted to hold the Flash down, fill him, watch his eyes widen with pain and pleasure. He wanted to see him sweaty, flushed, hair disarrayed. He wanted the other straddling him, moving with him in ecstasy. He wanted to stand, back against a wall, while the other speedster knelt at his feet, Eobard's fingers twisted in his hair. And he wanted to return such favors, to touch him, to pleasure him, to hurt him, whatever it took to give him the most intense climax he would ever feel. And he knew, them both being speedsters, they could go all night if they wished, wreathed in Speed Force and rapture, like an eternity of sinful hedonism. The things he would do to that man - the ways he could have the other screaming his name.
He sighed blissfully at such thoughts.
He desired Barry Allen, and nothing - not even misplaced resistance and denial to feelings - could stop the two of them now, from finally having what they wanted.