Earth 2

9.5 Months Later

For the first time in a month Barry's alarm clock woke him sooner than his children's wailing did.

The hands showed 7:30 am, and Barry rustled in bed, trying to fight consciousness. He reached out and hit the button, silencing the ringing, then hid back under the covers. Iris was no doubt already well on her way to work, which meant even if for a moment he would have the entire bed to himself. For the past month since they brought the twins home- and long after he had lost the fight in getting Iris to take on the role of housemother- Barry had been cashing in his own paternity leave and camping out in various styles in the nursery: the rocking chair, the floor, even sometimes against the crib. Needless to say, it had been a long minute since he slept in his bed like a normal person.

But it was too quiet.

With a low grunt, Barry threw the blanket off himself and got up, putting on his glasses and wrapping his robe around him. For some weird reason, he felt the need to sneak down the hallway, being careful to not make a sound and wake them from their uncharacteristically peaceful slumber. Why he felt this would make a difference he couldn't place, but after a solid month of pretty much sleepless nights he thought it worth a shot. Slowly pushing the door open, he walked in and saw both his children, Dawn Margaret and Donnie Henry, wrapped tightly in their blankets and peacefully snoring away. The sight warmed his heart. They must be exhausted. He wasn't over his check-their-breathing phase, but after he was assured they were still alive, he made the conscious decision to tuck them tighter and let them sleep. After all, parenting was all about the little concessions, even if five minutes later they'd be calling out to their father for food.

"Barry, babies are supposed to sleep, honey."

"Right, no I know that. But this much? I'm not sure they've actually been awake today."

Barry wrapped the phone cord around his hand, anxiously awaiting his mother's response. Sure, he was 27, a grown man- but he was 27, a young father and definitely still needed the guidance of his mother, especially navigating through the terrain of parenthood. A mommy's boy himself, he could only hope that Donnie would be the same with his mother, because he wouldn't trade the relationship he had with Nora Allen for anything. He could hear his mother typing away on a keyboard, obviously finding reliable resources for the information she was about to give him. She always knew how diligent her son was, and now that he was a father himself she was all too aware that, unless given the most reputable assurance, he'd be obsessed with worry for his children. She chuckled on the other end, and Barry surrendered a smile. He did love hearing his mother blissfully taking on the role of grandma, something she had been pining for the chance to do since he and Iris' wedding night.

"Well, I've looked at four different sites for you Barry, and they all say the same thing,"

Barry pulled out his notepad.

"They say you should thank your lucky stars."

Barry sighed. Great, he thought. It's not as if he didn't know this. There was a strange contention between being aware you are overreacting and taking no for an answer when it came to your kids. They had been to the doctor enough in their month of life and everything was good- excellent for twins even. Perhaps Barry needed to accept that sooner than later before becoming the overbearing stay at home dad that everyone despised. He thanked his mother and they finished their small talk about the twins before Barry hung up the phone. He listened but of course heard nothing. He slouched into the couch.

Not going to check on them.

Not going to check on them…

The phone rang.

Knew there was something else, Barry picked up the receiver, waiting for the chance to tell his mother he told her so. He clicked his pen open.

"Barry Allen."

A mechanical voice echoed on the other end. It almost made Barry drop the phone. He froze, and checked the receiver to see if it was broken. The voice continued as a flustered Barry attempted to hang up.

"You cannot ignore me. you must listen, If you want them to live."

Barry's blood ran cold. "..What?" He turned quickly towards the stairs. Instantly the silence strangled him. Dawn. Donnie. He shot off the couch, sprinting faster than he ever had to the nursery. The door shot open, and he almost slammed into their cribs. Panting, he ripped the blanket off where his daughter should have been and he was met with a shock.

There she was. Sleeping as soundly as she had been before.

Barry checked on Donnie, and he was safe as well. Frazzled, he covered them back up and slowly made his way out into the hallway. What had just happened? Did he hallucinate that call?

Before he could calm down completely, the phone in his room began to ring.

This time, fury began to well up inside him. Whatever this game was, he wasn't going to play. Not with his family. He didn't give the voice a chance to speak.

"Listen, I don't know what this is, but this is not funny. I don't know who you are, but I am calling the police." As he began to dial the police, leaving the assailant on the line in an attempt to allow the authorities to track them, the voice harkened no reply. Instead, he heard a muffled sound in the distance. At first, he couldn't make it out, but eventually it came into focus. It was a baby, crying. Soon, the crying triggered the wails of another. Barry stopped dialing. That crying. He knew those cries. It was the same call he'd been at the mercy to for the past month. But how was that possible when his children were right here with him?

"Perhaps you misunderstand me. What you hear, Barry Allen, is what you fear."

The crying intensified. Every nerve in his body begged Barry to help, though he knew that place was not here and that those children were not his. His mind and body fought one another, and his throat ran dry. "What is this? What do you want?" The crying continued. He wished he could make it stop.

The voice chuckled, the first humanizing feature it had lent itself too. Somehow, picturing this person on the other end and not some robot made the entire situation that much more sinister. And dire. Those cries were being ignored. Those children were being ignored. There wasn't a lot of time to do that before things would take a turn for the worse.

"You see your own with you, and yet they are also here. Logic is your enemy. Logic is their death."

Death. The words sunk deep into Barry. Their wailing intensified. This man wasn't lying, he would let them die. He was doing it as they spoke. He stopped trying to piece together how this could be happening. Those cries, those children, they were his. He didn't know how, but somehow this man had taken versions of them hostage. Did it even matter that they weren't the Dawn and Donnie with him in person? Barry grabbed two blankets out of the bassinettes next to their bed, along with two small monkey toys his mother had stitched for them. Daddy's coming. Barry gripped the receiver.

"What do you want?"

As soon as Barry had given into the man's demands, almost instantly he was whisked out of the house.