A/N: Woah, thanks a LOT guys for your comments, didn't think you would appreciate that new story like that. You're amazing! Hope you'll enjoy this one just as well.

"I should've saved Cisco; I should've been faster and take down Cicada straight away. I should've-" Barry started to ramble.

Freeing his hands out of his wife's grasp, he landed his forehead between his palms and leaned forward despite his body protesting against taking this action.

The pain from his wound was far more endurable than it had been yesterday, but it was still aching enough to make him hiss at the movement and at the new position he found himself in. But, no matter how uncomfortable he was feeling right now, Barry didn't budge and stayed mostly still, shaking slightly from the adrenaline brought up by his agitated dream. Switching strategy, Iris went to rub his back soothingly.

"You did everything you could under the circumstances; you cannot blame yourself. What's done is done. You cannot change the past."

The CSI's head popped up just a tad as he got struck by a sudden thought, an obvious one that also appeared instantly into his wife's mind.

"You know what I meant; you can't do this," hurriedly added Iris, "you can't mess with the timeline. You said it yourself; you're not a god. You cannot risk everything for that, even if it's Cisco we're talking about. It's not what he would've wanted," she gently said with his smoothest voice.

"It's not right," whispered Barry, hissing again in pain when his wife rubbed a tad too vigorously at the wrong spot.

Empathizing with all her heart and wincing in sympathy, the reporter glanced behind her husband to look at where her left hand was.

"How's your back?" She asked, looking where the injury was, hidden under the thin grey t-shirt.

Taking a shaky breath, and with the help of his wife, Barry straightened himself and allowed his body to slump against the pile of pillow his wife made while he was changing position. After a few seconds, seconds that Barry used to analyse his situation, the CSI finally answered truthfully, with a half-forced smile. "It's getting better."

"That's good to hear," said Iris, smiling and letting go of the physical contact. "Now, what about some food? I could go grab you a sandwich or anything else that you want," she offered.

Food? The simple idea of it had Barry's departed nausea threatening to come back, "no, I'm not hungry. Maybe later."

"Barry, you haven't eaten anything in days... I'm worried about you."

Tenderly, Barry extended his right hand to touch Iris' chin and he brought it in the right angle to make eye contact, "I know you are and I love you for that. But, I'm truly not hungry, just a bit tired. I'll be okay, eventually."

Iris sighed and moved away from the contact on her chin before yielding way faster than her husband anticipated it, "I'll give you a pass for now, but you have to eat. You can't let yourself perish; it's not wh-"

It's not what Cisco would've wanted? Yeah, the speedster heard that one before. If only people could stop bringing him up, that could help. How are you supposed to know what a deceased person wants anyway? Barry's features suddenly tensed up, victim to an unexpected and intense wave of pain in his back. His eyes squinted, and his fingernails started digging into the mattress underneath him with enough force to turn his knuckles white.

"Barry?" Worriedly asked Iris, "what's going on?"

He wanted to answer, he really did, but when his mouth opened up, the only sound that managed to escape was a gasp of pain. The building tension caused his whole body to convulse uncontrollably to the point his right hand started to vibrate slightly, almost dematerializing, like if the limb was trying to, literally, shake off the agony washing his entire being.

"BARRY!"

Gasping like a drowning man reaching the surface, the speedster abruptly reconnected with his surroundings, only to realize Iris was up from the chair. The reporter was forcibly grabbing and shaking his shoulders with worry all over her beautiful eyes. On the bright side, it looked like his powers weren't completely gone, right? Even after Barry managed to gain back enough control of his body to make eye contact, finally, it barely diminished the anguish displaying all over the reporter's face.

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

"My back," he gasped between two hard breaths.

Seeing her husband finally settling down and talking, Iris relaxed slightly and let go of the contact before sitting back in her seat. As both young people were allowing themselves to unwind from the unexplained trouble, none of them noticed the faceless, human-shaped, shadow hovering over the ground right at the cortex entrance. The strange apparition was just floating there and staring straight at the two figures in the medical bay. That was if starring was the right word considering how the character didn't have a face.

After seemingly long consideration, the ominous looking shadow backed away and dissipated into the wall, unseen and unheard.

"Just take it easy, you're gonna be okay," gently reassured Iris to her relaxing husband who kept on breathing in and out for what felt like forever, completely unaware of the danger.

***FLASHFLASHFLASH***

"Cisco!" Shouted Barry as he abruptly woke up and opened his eyes.

Prompting himself on his elbows, the speedsters' eyes darted all around, disoriented and heavy breathing as the sweat was freely running down his forehead and sticking his arms on the couch he was on.

He was in the S.T.A.R. Labs' lounge in the upper level, the same place he took a habit to come and nap as often as he could during the day to try and balance his sleepless nights. His glance moved to the clock sitting on the counter; 4:15 pm. He slept almost three hours straight; that had to be a record, but it still wasn't enough. Tiredly, Barry rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. If only he could stop making these dreams, these nightmares, where he would almost always revisit the moment of his best friend's death. And, the other times, when he wasn't reliving that moment, the hero would often find himself in a total lifeless black void. In all these cases, there was one constant; Cisco was calling him out like he was asking for help.

If Barry was to be completely honest with himself, he had to admit that the fact he was having these disturbing dreams wasn't surprising to the speedster. His guilt was eating him alive, even when he wasn't in Morpheus' arms. How could he not feel responsible for what happened? Cisco's death was on him. It was his fault that Vibe was gone and the fact was undeniable.

Yawning loudly, Barry extended his arms over his head first, and then behind it, stretching them till his joints cracked. Doing so, he winced at the tension his movement caused to his still-healing injury. It was still painful, but nothing like what it had been the first few days or during that one unexplained moment when he was with Iris. It had been almost a full week since that night in the forest, and his powers were still malfunctioning, just like Cisco's hands were after the first fight against Cicada.

Oh, Cisco. The thought of his friend twisted Barry's stomach and brought a veil of darkness in front of his eyes.

Suddenly, an unexpected shiver passed in the CSI's back. That was going to sound crazy, even from someone who once called himself the impossible, but Barry could've sworn he felt a presence standing with him, in this empty room, at this instant. Despite the logical part of his brain telling him that there was no such thing as ghosts, his heart picked up the pace and hammered painfully in his chest.

Swiftly getting up and spinning on his heels, Barry made a full 180 turn on himself to look behind him and saw nothing but the balcony of the lounge standing in front of him. Central city's beautiful blue sky and tall buildings were staring back at the man in a silent answer to Barry's crazy interrogation; he indeed was alone in the room. Slowly, Barry let go of the breath he didn't notice he had been holding.

His imagination was still running wild, and his eyes were still wide open. Why was he still having that feeling someone was observing him?

Knock knock

The resonating sound of someone, or something, knocking against a wooden frame almost had Flash jumping out of his skin as he quickly turned around once more, with twice the speed this time, to face the source of the sound.

"Dad?"

Standing at the entrance was his daughter from the future who was wearing a long striped blue and white shirt with pale washed up jeans. A lock of dark brown hair was partially covering her kind eyes that were quickly filling themselves with worry at the sight laying in front of her.

"Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"I... ther-" stammered the scarlet speedster, turning his upper body slightly to point the back of the room for a second before facing his daughter again once he realized he was at a loss of words.

What was the point of explaining something that didn't happen and would only cause the young lady to get even more anxious about her father's mental state than she already was? Chuckling instead, Barry put his closed fists on his hips.

"Yeah, sorry. I got lost in my thoughts for a second there and you scared me."

Reassured by the answer, Nora tender's face got taken over by a sad smile, one that faded just as fast when she spotted the half-eaten sandwich laying on the table and next to the sheet covered sofa where Barry slept. Her features saddened a tad more when she saw how messed up the sheets were; a clear sign that the nightmares didn't go anywhere.

"Still having these bad dreams?" She asked with a sigh, already knowing the answer.

Following her glance, Barry spotted the same two elements that caught his daughter's attention and carefully avoided to make eye contact again. His silence was all the confirmation the young woman needed.

"You need to take better care of yourself. You need to eat and sleep," she gently said while approaching her father.

From the corner of his eyes, still refusing to make eye contact, Barry caught something that closely resembled pity. If there was one thing he didn't need right now, it was that.

"I know, Nora. I'm trying, believe me. I am. It's just... it was my fault. Everything is," he awkwardly tried to explain, looking away and barely feeling the gentle hand that went for his left bicep that was showing up out of his grey t-shirt.

"I was there. It wasn't your fault, and I'm not just saying it to make you feel better. It wasn't. You gotta stop fighting this."

The hero nodded, before taking his left arm out of XS's grasp and bringing the back of his hand to his forehead.

"Is it just me or it's getting hot in here?"

"Not really, I'm fine," instantly said Nora, reaching out and grabbing back her father's bare arm, "you don't feel hot either."

"I don't feel so good," answered back Barry before wincing in discomfort between his tightly closed teeth. Moving his left arm away from his head, he put his arm behind his back and allowed for his hand to reach his injury, "I should probably go see Caitlin about that."

Something was definitely up with that wound, but the hero just couldn't put his finger on what that was. One moment it was healing nicely and the next, it was as bad as when he first woke up. And, what about his powers? Were they ever going to come back? Not that Barry was real hero material anymore after what happened. How was he supposed to save the world, again, when he couldn't protect his own best friend?

Once more lost in his thoughts, he missed the faceless shadow hovering over the ground near the entrance that backed away, out of sight.

"I'll go get her, just get downstairs," answered his daughter before rushing out in a blast of wind and mixed purple and yellow flashes of lightning.

Talk about fast; by the time Barry managed to get down, cursing against the quickly decreasing pain, Caitlin was finishing getting ready to receive him with the same pity in her face that Nora had.

If his team and family could just stop looking at him like he was some broken puppy, it might help get better, mentally speaking at least.

"Sit on the bed," instructed the doctor to her patient who complied, his feet dangling off the edge. Not wasting any time, a hand came on his forehead.

"You don't feel hot. But I'll still run some tests to make sure. Take off your shirt so I can check your injury," firmly said Caitlin, back into full-on, detached, doctor mode.

"I feel way better now than I did a moment ago. I don't get it, is there something wrong with me or not?" Asked Barry as he slipped his t-shirt over his head and exposed his muscular torso.

"Let me be the judge of that," said the doctor, barely giving enough time for the speedster to open his mouth before she pushed a thermometer inside of it. What happened to her bedside matters anyway?

No waiting for it to beep, the doctor moved around her patient and the bed to take a look at the source of his discomfort, palpating it hard enough to bring back the pain and causing a muffled groan from the hero, who almost dropped the thermometer. Thankfully, it finally beeped, and Iris' husband took it out of his mouth before gratefully put it next to him.

"Ow! Watch the merchandise," protested Barry even if his cries had no effects.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do it. Just relax and stop fighting, would you?"

Fine. If that's what everyone wanted him to do, Barry was going to comply and force his body to relax.

"When will my powers come back?" He asked, looking away and toward the door that was leading to the cortex while his auburn doctor friend was continuing her examination.

"I'm not sure... but I'm certain they will. The amount of dark matter in Cicada's dagger is like anything I've ever seen, so I'm not surprised there are still residues in your body," as she spoke, Caitlin moved back around the bed to face him again. "We'll to do more tests in a few days if you're not getting better by then. Give me your arm now; I want to take another blood sample."

Silently, Barry complied once more. What else could he do? He was no doctor. If anyone was to figure out what was wrong, it was Killer Frost's host. The only course of action that was available was to allow her the time to do every examination she wanted to. When she was done with her initial tasks, Caitlin moved to the computer and her medical equipment.

"It's going to take me a moment to examine it all. Go stretch your legs, it will do you some good."

"Yeah..." Unconvincingly mumbled Barry, carefully pushing himself off the bed and back on the ground.

Dragging his heavy foot on the concrete ground, the Central City's protector pushed the door open and slid outside the room without adding another word, too exhausted mentally and physically to do so. Slowly, he forced his beaten body to advance in the hallway, walking in the direction of the lounge. Except, after only taking a few steps, a tingling sensation started manifesting in his body and began to grow exponentially worse by the second, sending his mind into high alert. The then-gone agony in his back was about to come back at full strength at any time now; the feeling before the white-hot pain would run him over like a train was becoming familiar. This thing was happening too often to be normal.

One time was an abnormality, two times were random coincidences, but three times? It wasn't natural. That part was becoming more certain. A pain this intense just doesn't randomly leave and come back in such matter, especially if Caitlin kept on saying everything physical was normal and his stab wound was healing.

Something, or someone, had to be causing this on purpose. A shiver ran down the man's back as a realization hit him; that something had to be close, probably closer than he thought, closer than he knew.

A/N: Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Anyone has any idea about what the shadow wants and what it is?