(Forgive me, Jell-O Squares. I'm fighting writer's block and this chapter isn't my favorite, but hopefully you can tolerate it. At least it's up. Those reviews are my joy. -Doverstar)

Are you one of those people who loves to play card games? Board games? Games like Ninja, Signs, Charades, even Sardines? Some people can play those games over and over with their friends and family, their fallback, something everyone knows how to play, and never get sick of it. Others become bored with it, or simply haven't played in a while, and the next time you all gather to do it again, that one person can't remember how to play. You've all done it a thousand times, but everyone has that friend who needs a refresher.

For Savitar, being in S.T.A.R. Labs and working with the tech was very much like that. At first glance, the monitors and enhancers and tools were like something out of a dream he couldn't quite grasp. He examined the cords, even opened up a few computers to try and recall what made them tick. Snow had gotten most of the ones in the Cortex working again, but the computer in the engineering lab was still down, as was the one upstairs at reception. Savitar had begun working on the one in the engineering lab, and, finishing in about 20 minutes flat due to his meta abilities, he moved to the one in the Cortex. The one Killer Frost had tossed him into days ago.

Those glacier-white eyes had actually been more familiar than the browns she'd been sporting in this timeline her team had rewired. The timeline in which Iris didn't die, the timeline in which Caitlin Snow was never wounded from Abra Kadabra's escape.

Savitar's memories of the original timeline, the one where Killer Frost joined him, fiercely loyal and deadly as an avalanche, were blurring as the days went by. He did not pretend to harbor feelings of affection toward her—but they had an agreement. They had shared qualities. Barry Allen would not help his time remnant, though the two were practically of the same mind. And Barry Allen had been too obsessed with saving Iris to see that Caitlin had needed saving more. Until, of course, he was too late, and she'd died on the operating table, Killer Frost emerging in her stead.

His goal in tugging Frost out of Snow the other day had not been to turn her to darkness, to take over Earth-66. That drive in him had died out. Something about being rescued by Team Flash, being proven wrong about their present characters, had taken that fight right out of him. But again, it hurt to be around them, and the best thing for it was to live somewhere they did not. So here he was, with diligent Doctor Snow to keep an eye on him. Something curdled and writhing inside of him wanted her to turn cold. He wanted her to lose control. Wanted her to be something more than the determined, spotless scientist. He wanted to see some imperfection, something that proved she was...

He didn't want to dwell on it. He'd failed, anyway. And that made him more frustrated with her than ever. Savitar didn't have time for what he didn't understand. He remembered a time, long ago, memories that weren't really his, where he had understood no one better than Caitlin Snow. None of it mattered now.

Finishing with the computer—glass and all—Savitar moved to check that the rest were still functioning properly. He switched on the wall monitors. They were on the same channel they had been the day Frost had made her small appearance: the live news channel.

"Pandemonium has broken out here at Central City's big Engineering EXPO, as a mystery assailant has just begun to terrorize the crowds gathered at each booth. According to our eye in the sky, the stranger has set fire to many of the creations on display and is now turning his attention to the public itself. Police urge civilians to stay away from the area as they try to control the situation. More updates to follow. This is Sandra Peterson, Central City News, reporting live..."

Savitar watched the chaos onscreen. It was Rory again. Of course. The dancing little pyro couldn't keep his hands to himself. Savitar felt contempt, annoyance, but nothing like the rage that once filled Barry Allen at seeing a villain lay waste to the innocent. There was a spark of it, somewhere flickering beneath the rubble that had built up after everything else that had happened to him.

Barry Allen would race to the rescue. Savitar just watched, searching for the desire he remembered, the drive to help and protect, waiting for it to surge through him. He couldn't. It didn't. Where had it gone? Did he even want it? It wasn't laziness that rooted his feet to the ground. He just could not care the way the original had. The way he remembered caring. And maybe that should've made him sad, maybe that should've broken him. It just wasn't there. He wasn't that person. Technically he never had been.

He knew someone who would care, though. Someone driven to straight-up melodramatics over the screams coming from the news feed. He didn't know what made him reach for the comms attached to his jacket's lapel. Maybe he simply didn't have anything better to do.

"Caitlin." Something crackled on the other end, a few scattered voices. His connection must've been mingling with that of another. They could get over it.

There was a moment of shuffling, Snow apologizing to someone wherever she was.

Then, "Barry?"

Barry? For a moment he was frozen. It had been...so long, eons, since someone had called him Barry. Hearing the name actually directed at him, he could hear echoes of others saying it with her. His mother, his father, Joe, Iris, Cisco, Wells, Jesse, Felicity, Wally, Oliver. It swamped his mind; his mouth went dry. He leaned, back and head, against the nearest wall, trying to shut it out. It hadn't come on this strong since Iris had touched him, just the once, back on Earth-1. He kept his eyes open this time. He couldn't picture it all as the life he ached for flooded through, not as long as he was looking at the present. S.T.A.R. Labs ceiling, cobwebs, the smell of mold. He fought to control his emotions, something he hadn't found too difficult until recently.

Caitlin was saying something else, asking too many questions. In a dizzying jolt back to reality, he realized she must have been talking to the original moments before, and she just thought that remained who she was babbling to, after a failing connection.

There was a foul taste in the back of his throat. He said quickly, harshly, "It's me," to make her stop.

"Savitar?" It was so like her to sound that baffled. For someone boasting an above-average IQ, she wasn't as bright as he thought he remembered. Or maybe she was, and all he cared to see were the flaws. He had been counting the things she simply didn't notice.

"Get back down here," he ordered bluntly, eyes returning to the news. "I'm guessing you'll wanna see this."

She wasn't listening to him. "How did you know about the comms?" Focused on semantics. He missed Killer Frost.

He tilted his head to either side with every explanation, eyebrows raised as if she could see him. "You're loud. You're slow. You're pretty terrible at stealth mode." Onscreen, Rory was setting fire to the warehouse outside of which the EXPO was set up. "I knew you bugged me the minute you left my room. Get. Back. Down here." Maybe she'd hear him if he spoke more slowly.

"What do you need?" She sounded impatient. His two-fingered grip tightened on his lapel as he stretched it closer to his mouth. "I'm busy."

Busy? She was at Jitters again. He could hear the silverware and the espresso machines in the background. She was as naive as he remembered. He had run the entire length of the city at least thirty times every day; she didn't think he noticed her sitting at the same table, in the same corner of the same cafe, at the same time every morning? She didn't notice him flashing around Central City. But then, most people chose to ignore the impossible. Savitar had trained himself to catalogue every detail of his surroundings. He could say he'd been working off of advice from Oliver Queen, but that was someone else's life, wasn't it? Eternity in the Speed Force sharpened your senses. He'd noticed a moth on the satellite of a skyscraper the other day in the space of a single heartbeat.

What could be so important at Jitters, he wondered, that his little governess just couldn't be bothered? Unless it was Barry Allen. Then she was so intent on keeping their connection online, antsy Caitlin didn't know what to do with herself. It was almost embarassing to be apart of.

"Now," he spat into the mic, and so as not to leave room for discussion, he switched the device off. If she meant what she'd said when she offered to come here with him, she'd be by within the hour, average speed or no. If not, no skin off of his back.

Caitlin was back 20 minutes earlier than he'd expected her.

If she thought seeing him eat was surreal, she didn't know the meaning of the word. When Caitlin Snow entered a room, Savitar could think of nothing in his life more surreal than her presence, her existence. Being in the same timeline, breathing the same air as he did.

Savitar came from loss. He came from a time where Caitlin Snow was dead, and Killer Frost had gone down fighting, locked up with all his secrets. He came from a time where Team Flash was dissolved. Seeing her as her human self, still apart of that team, was like looking at a ghost. He dreamt of her, dreamt of all of them, every night. The Speed Force had choked him with their faces, their memories. With his own bitterness.

To see a portion of his past—Barry's past—just run right into the Cortex as if any of this was real, any of this fit in his timeline...that was as surreal as you could get. Killer Frost was just a sentence in his story. Caitlin Snow was a cliffhanger the editor had added at the end. Even he didn't know what would happen next where she was concerned. And Savitar didn't like not being in control.

She didn't seem to care what he liked, because there she was anyway, throwing her purse into the nearest chair. "I came as fast as I could," she gasped, leaning against the curved white desk.

"Really?" Savitar's back was still pressed against the north wall. "That's depressing."

Caitlin ignored the jab. She reached for the nearest keyboard, booting up her favorite monitor. "What did you need me for?"

Savitar chortled, spirits rising with mirth. "I don't need you," he told her casually, rolling his eyes.

Caitlin glanced up at him, but looked away too quickly for him to enjoy his handiwork. He hadn't been able to spy any kind of stinging in her irises. Doctor Snow, Barry doesn't need you. Didn't that at least earn him a watery stare? How boring.

"This," he said, turning up the volume on the wall monitor, "is why I called you."

Now she was gawking at the news feed above, on the wall monitor. He watched the color drain from her face, watched the cool confidence as she set her jaw; she'd seen this kind of thing a million times before. So had he. The difference was that she intended to do something about it.

"Heat Wave," she surmised. "This is—at this rate there won't be anything left for him to burn. We need to..." She trailed off, finally tearing her gaze from the screen to the speedster lounging in the corner. He watched frozen disappointment flit across her being. It was alive in the tightening of her neck, the curl of her fingers. Then it was gone. "Are you listening?"

Savitar blinked, slow as a cat, eyes tracing the waves in her hair. "You want me to stop him."

"Yes, I do."

He took a moment to lock eyes with her, making sure she had a moment to hope, before shaking his head. "No."

She was counting to ten, he could see it. "They need you, people are dying."

"People die every day." Savitar shrugged. "Why are they so important?" He nodded to the screen. "It's so short. You all live such tiny lives, you're lucky you have time to do anything at all." He had only to close his eyes to understand it all, remembering how long he'd been around, from 2024 to an eternity in the Speed Force, to months on Earth-1, all the way up to this one breath in this one room in this one world. When you'd lived that long, ordinary people's lifespan seemed like setting a traffic cone down next to a fir tree and comparing the two. "Maybe it's their time. Ever think of it like that?"

Caitlin's face was still as stone. "You want to get faster, don't you?"

"You have your hobbies."

"What better way to increase your abilities than to pit them against a predicament like this?" Caitlin gestured wildly to the news feed with a hand. "You have Barry's memories. The only way he ever got faster was by testing his limits, fighting metas, saving people." She raised her eyebrows. "You can run as fast as you want when you're on your own, without anything getting in your way. How much faster do you think you'll be once you've remastered a few roadblocks?"

"Pretty speech. No flash cards?" She didn't respond to that and he grunted. "You're forgetting something—it's been a while since I chased down a meta. You've never actually seen me try it, have you?"

"Are you saying you're rusty?"

Savitar leaned off of the wall, torso only, hands in his pockets. "What if you don't like the way I do it?"

Caitlin glared at him. He knew that face. She was writing out an equation, she was weighing a phial, she was spellchecking an essay, retracing her steps in a procedure. She was trying to read him without the instruction manual. Good luck.

"As long as you don't kill anyone," she said coldly, "I don't care how you help them."

Oh, he saw that one coming. Too bad Killer Frost had never had the chance to do any killing. Maybe she'd have understood how fun it could be, and he'd be free to play with Rory all afternoon, no restrictions. Instead he was stuck with Snow's familiar honor code, the way she pursed her lips like that one high school teacher who would not stand for any back-talk.

Savitar's milky eye glittered. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, palms pointed to the ceiling, fingers parted. He felt a mocking, crooked smile form. "What are we waiting for?"

This threw her. She jittered in place. "You'll do it?"

"I need to stretch my legs," he sighed. "He's down by the riverfront, right?"

He moved for the door, but she rushed to actually stand in his way.

"Wait," she commanded. "You need—"

"I have you on speed dial, thanks," Savitar murmured, staring sleepily down at her. He brandished the comms attached to his lapel. "Not that I'll need your help. I give it ten minutes, tops." He tried to shoulder past, but surprisingly, she would not be shouldered.

"Okay, first of all," Caitlin grunted, holding up a warning finger, "I don't care how godlike you think you are; saving everyone at that EXPO—including the critically injured—and stopping Mick Rory is not going to take ten minutes, tops."

"Oooh!" Savitar's head reared. "Is that a challenge, Doctor Snow?"

"Secondly," she went on, very obviously containing her own eye-roll, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, "you don't just need comms, you need a suit. A fireproof suit."

Savitar glanced to the left. He glanced to the right. He pretended he needed to stand on tiptoes to look past her, craning his neck. "I don't see my suit anywhere," he informed her, feigning apologetics. "Figures, I mean, I thought I was forgetting something when we got here, but I guess I kind of zoned out, huh?"

Caitlin blinked. "Not that suit."

She reached for the enormous duffel bag, one of two, that she kept underneath the main desk. Savitar had considered examining the contents, of course, before deciding he just didn't care. What could be in there for him? Nothing he didn't already have.

He was wrong, as it turned out.

"Cisco had it made for you. Just in case."

The hooded mask was bigger, the legs a little longer—he was a copy of Barry's older self, after all—and the bolts on the head were smaller. But other than that it was exactly the suit he remembered. The suit he used to just look at, making him giddy as a schoolboy two minutes before recess. He remembered the first time he'd worn it, the first time he'd gone for a run in it. The moment he could feel everything changing, something incredible coming into his life—the Flash. The Fastest Man Alive. Central City's guardian angel. When he wore that suit, everything made sense. He knew who he was and what he had to do and how good it would feel. People needed him in that suit, and he would always be there.

But that wasn't him anymore. Those weren't even his memories. Savitar sized the suit up as Caitlin held it out to him.

"Mm hm." He snorted a short laugh. "I'm not wearing that."

Snow did not look daunted. She cocked her head at him, tantamount to an unimpressed really? Then she reached around the suit with one hand, pressing down on the lightning bolt symbol attached to its chest.

With the same affect a used paintbrush had in a cup of water, charcoal black spread across the bright red and in seconds the suit was transformed. The yellow had become electric blue.

"How about now?" Caitlin asked, barely containing her satisfaction.

Savitar looked away, shaking his head. Amused. He held up a finger to her. "One run."

It wasn't like running in the Speed Force was something he grew nostalgic for, but there was an absence of energy Savitar found distracting here, in the real world. Smells and sounds he didn't have to tune out in the Speed Force. Where the Force had taken his own mind and turned it inside-out, like a pocket, throwing everything he knew at him as he ran, this dimension had things he wasn't used to. People he had never met he had to blur by. Shops in this Central City that weren't on Earth-1's.

The Speed Force had been Hell, but at least he'd known what to expect.

Wearing the suit again disoriented him. He recognized its feeling, recognized the easy friction in the boots, the way it blocked the wind as he ran, the way it protected his ears from the velocity. But though it felt correct on him, it was also like wearing someone else's tee shirt after ruining your own—it was comfortable, but he was painfully aware it wasn't his. Ramon had made it so that he could wear it, yes—the problem was that the design was reminiscent of someone he wasn't.

The black was cool, though.

A shrill voice pierced his right ear. "You missed it."

Savitar slid to a stop. He was on the outskirts of downtown, in a subdivision. Cute little houses everywhere. He could hear someone playing Frisbee in a backyard somewhere, shoes crunching through dead autumn grass.

"What?" he puffed, hand to the comms.

Snow spoke louder, as if that were the problem. "You missed it!"

"I missed what?"

"The EXPO. You ran right by it."

Savitar glanced around. "By how much?"

"You're about a mile awa—" EEEEE. Her words elevated into a high-pitched shriek; she was still too loud.

"Fantastic." He hung his head back.

"Turn around and I'll tell you when—"

EEEEEEEEE.

Savitar squeezed his eyes shut. "Hold the mic away from your mouth."

"Sorry." That was better.

"Stop talking." He turned, tearing out of the subdivision, kicking up more than a few leaves in his wake.

The smell of smoke told him where to go. He hadn't noticed it before, lost in thought. The EXPO was in a large field on the riverfront, and there must have been about forty different booths and stands before Rory had torched them all. The entire field was ablaze, flames everywhere, clouds of black polluting the air. Screams and people running in all directions, more than one lifeless form strewn on the lawn.

"It's an engineering EXPO under attack from an arsonist." There she was again. "There's going to be more than one pile of smoldering metal, probably a few stray pieces along the ground. Watch your step. Your suit is fireproof, but I don't know how much molten iron it can take before it burns through your boots. If your feet are injured, it could impair your speed, and your chances of getting everyone to safety will drop."

"We'll see." Savitar scanned the horizon. The smoke shielded everything. "Where's Rory?"

"It looks like the flames originated at the entrance behind you. Heat Wave created a path from there north. He must be near the end of the block by now."

Savitar shot forward, eyes moving nearly as quickly as his legs, surveying the EXPO and the damage Rory had done. The smell made his eyes water. Rory couldn't have gotten too far away; stopping to boil everything in his path would've taken time.

"I see him," he breathed into his comms.

"What is he doing?"

"Take a guess."

Rory had his back to Savitar. Flames shot from his hands, burning the nearest booth. It was too late to tell what it had been, but Savitar did see, on the ground beneath a table that had been set aflame, a melting mass that might have once been an engine of some kind.

Heat Wave was saying something, or maybe laughing, but the crackling and screaming drowned it out.

"You have to be smart," Caitlin told him. "The heat signatures on my monitors are magnified in one specific spot—that must be him. Savitar, with the temperature he's producing, if he so much as breathes in your direction—" She hesitated. "You'll basically burn until there isn't anything left to burn. I don't even know if he can turn it off, there's so much of it inside him."

"Start your timer," Savitar muttered. "Ten minutes."

"This isn't—"

He stopped listening, taking off toward the river. He could hear Caitlin asking too many questions again, wondering why he was now moving in the opposite direction of the threat. He didn't waste time responding, stopping just at the water's edge. He'd need something to carry it in.

A dash for the remaining section of the EXPO Rory hadn't reached yet gave him his answer. Ignoring the people fleeing the area, he visited every stand until he found what he needed—a water cooler, the kind you'd bring to the beach on a hot day. Whoever owned the booth had planned on being here a while. Emptying its contents, Savitar took it back to the river, filling it in half a second and turning back in Rory's direction.

"What are you doing?" Caitlin demanded. "You're coming in and out of range!"

"He needs a bath."

"If you get too close—"

He was already close. Savitar stopped behind Rory, turned the cooler over, and drenched him. Completely caught off guard—he hadn't even seen the speedster yet—Rory staggered, silver smoke pouring from every open part of his face. He made a choked sound, as if he wanted to scream, but he couldn't.

Within the space of three minutes, Savitar had done this same deed about twelve times. Rory was disoriented, and Savitar was moving too quickly for him to pinpoint precisely who was giving him a soaking. Maybe he thought it was a lot of rain. Savitar didn't remember him being too bright. Enjoying the look of total bewilderment on his opponent's face, the speedster decided that the cooler method was fun, but not fun enough.

He skidded to a halt in front of Rory at last, tossing the cooler to the side with both hands.

"What are you doing?" Caitlin repeated. Clearly she was unused to being out of the know when a speedster was on the job. Savitar was tempted to switch off the comms.

Rory spat water from his mouth. It was running down his hairless head, into his eyes, dripping from his fingers. There was a fine circle of soaked autumn grass at his feet. "What?" Heat Wave coughed out, more steam rising with every breath, looking the stranger up and down. It had to have been mystifying, an intruder dressed like that suddenly appearing two feet away.

"Nice parlor trick." Savitar whistled, long and low. "All that heat must make you thirsty, Rory."

Heat Wave used a hand to wipe the water from his eyes, squinting. "You know my name?" he rasped out. So articulate.

Savitar had his collar in both fists before the meta could manage another gasp. "Let me get you a drink."

In another heartbeat, they'd returned to the river. The wind from the run hadn't dried Rory out yet, but his shirt was warmer in Savitar's hands as he lifted him high above the pavement.

"Stop!" Caitlin commanded in his ear. "If you—"

Too late. Savitar threw Rory down into the water with the force of a rollercoaster cart halfway through the track. An enormous splash, and the meta's form disappeared into the shadows beneath the waves.

"Ten minutes," Savitar grunted.

"How could you do that?" Caitlin was not impressed. In fact, she sounded angrier than ever. "You weren't even thinking!"

Savitar opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a massive light coming from the beneath the river's surface made him pause. The retort died in his throat as he realized his mistake. The water began to boil.

"You just threw a human volcano into the shallow end of a controlled body of water," Caitlin was snarling. "What did you think would happen, he'd sizzle out like an ember?"

Savitar didn't answer—Rory had emerged from the river in an explosion of scalding liquid, a wave that showered the edge of the field. Savitar sped out of its range, mentally kicking himself. He hadn't been thinking, Snow was right. It had felt too good to give someone a beating again. He hadn't focused. Now there was more work to do.

Heat Wave landed steadily on both feet, just a yard away from the speedster. He was grinning from ear to ear, and his skin tinged sunburn red.

"He's superheating himself," Caitlin reported. "He's like a battery, his cells are charging him up, feeding his body's natural warmth. Drying out. He must have been too surprised to do it earlier—and now that he's had time to bottle it up, he's about explode!"

"You might be fast, freakshow," Rory hissed, smoke coiling out of both nostrils like a Chinese dragon. "But that just means you'll burn quicker."

Savitar grinned back. "Let's get started."

A tunnel of flames shot toward him. The speedster dodged it with a jog to the left as easy as an average person's sidestep. Heat Wave kept it coming—tunnels of fire, actual fireballs, even skin-melting hot air.

Savitar avoided it all, behind Rory, in front of him again, to his left, to his right, playing with him. Deadly quiet the entire time.

"Stand—still!" Heat Wave roared, breathing blue flames in one long stroke, so quickly Savitar had to leap over the meta's head to escape it.

He landed behind Rory, who was breathing hard. Breath like gas, the villain turned to face his opponent once more, obviously winded.

Savitar's smile grew. "My turn."

The first blow was in Rory's gut. The meta doubled over, and Savitar kicked his legs out from underneath him. Before Heat Wave could react, Savitar was on top of him, fist after fist colliding with his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth. Heat Wave twisted beneath the speedster, trying to land his own blows, and Savitar felt his whole body get dangerously hot. Rory clocked him once, twice, with fists like branding irons, but for every punch Savitar received, he dished out five more with arms that moved faster than Mick Rory could breathe.

The meta's skin returned to bright red, his eyes glazed over.

"He's doing it again!" Caitlin warned him. "You can only touch him for so long before he regains enough heat to wield against you! Get off him!"

Savitar sprang backward, wiping blood from his lip. He out-and-out panted, adrenaline taking his breath. He pressed two fingers to the comms. "You take all the fun out of fighting," he grinned into the mic.

"Try to be a little more humane." Caitlin's voice was tight, controlled. "People might think you're the villain."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" Savitar watched, flexing his fingers, as Rory picked himself up.

Shrieking suddenly, Caitlin snapped, "Back up! He's overwhelmed! His powers are reacting blindly to the pain—move!"

Savitar immediately flashed all the way to the other end of the field. From there, he watched as Heat Wave's body began to glow, a thick smell of sweat and smoke claiming a quarter of the oxygen in the area. Pure white fire burst from Rory's mouth, his eyes, his palms. He was like a tiny supernova, sucking the moisture from the grass and setting half the the block ablaze.

When the noise died down, Savitar narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the wall of fire. "Don't tell me he's still alive over there."

"According to the sensors, he's making his getaway."

"No he's not."

Savitar took three steps back before plowing toward the other end of the field, feet pressing so hard into the ground that he kicked up inches of the turf in his wake. The Speed Force was surging through his limbs; he hadn't felt this energized since he'd tossed Barry Allen through a wormhole.

Rory wouldn't see him coming. He was storming across the last section of the EXPO, not pausing to destroy anything because his little explosion had done all the work for him. Savitar clenched his teeth, bracing for impact.

"Wait!"

Savitar stopped so suddenly, he created a small crater. "What, Caitlin? What is it?"

"Turn around!"

"Why?"

"The news feed—the chopper is following you—"

Savitar rolled his eyes. "Are they getting my good side?"

"No—no, not that! I think I see—oh my god, over there, turn around, turn around right now! There, by the fountain!"

Fountain? Savitar turned in a circle, finally spying the cherub-themed fountain a few feet away. Did she want him to use it to douse Rory? It was too late for that. He could take him down right now, no H20 necessary, if she would just stop talking.

His eyes landed on a writhing form at the foot of the fountain. A faint groan, something like a hollowed-out whimper, could be heard over the general panic. Savitar approached warily. He had gone after Heat Wave first, trusting the citizens to get themselves out of harm's way. Why was Snow just now drawing his attention from the main attraction?

He understood when he reached the body.

"Wally," he muttered, leaning over the kid.

"Oh no," Caitlin whispered. She sounded sick.

It was indeed Wally West—his hair was thicker here than it was on Earth-1, but his mustard-colored jacket, his voice when he moaned, were very familiar. He was clutching his left hand, bleeding down the side of his head, ugly welts covering his neck and right cheek.

"How bad is he?" Snow's voice was trembling.

"Bad," Savitar surmised, words clipped. "Mick did a number on him."

"Is he—"

"Alive," Savitar decided, checking the boy's pulse. "For now."

"You have to bring him back here."

Savitar stood up straight. "No. I'm going after Rory."

"If you don't bring Wally to S.T.A.R. Labs for treatment, he'll die!"

"Then he dies," Savitar snapped. "You want me to let the bad guy go just to save one life?"

"Yes! Always." The trembling had disappeared. "It doesn't matter whose life it is, it doesn't matter how far gone they are, you always try."

Savitar let out a long breath. Watching Wally slipping in and out consciousness below him. The hem of West's jacket was smoldering; his eyes were squeezed shut.

"Fine," Savitar muttered. "One third-degree-burn patient, coming your way."

(I promise fluff is coming. I'm pacing myself, but I hope it'll be worth the wait. Hey, this thing has to have a plot, unfortunately. You can't have the seasoning without the french fry itself. Do tell me your thoughts, friends! You've all been ridiculously kind in those reviews. I'll do better in the next chapter, I swear. -Doverstar)