A/N: Anon prompt: "Bart is captured and Jaime feels at fault."

"Well, it would seem our former partner has left us one last… valuable. Their greatest weapon."

Jaime Reyes hears the thoughtful voice cut through the air that is thick with tension. Absent from that calm and pensive voice is any hint of ill-intent. But then the man blocking his path lowers his hooded cloak, and Jaime sees the ghost of a smile grace the man's features; a cruel and vindictive smile. Jaime feels his eyes being drawn towards the man's own unfeeling orbs. He wants to look away but somehow he can't. The whites of the man's eyes are the same color as the abnormal pallor of his skin.

Scarab is issuing warnings and orders, but they are futile notions that rattle in Jaime's skull. The last thing the Hispanic teen thinks is "Mierda", before the world dips away, falling out from under his feet.

"Psimon says… reveal your secrets."

Images are flashing a mile a minute through Jaime's mind and his throat and lungs are on fire. He wants to scream and writhe in agony, to claw at his flaming skin. But he can't move. He can't move.

So instead Jaime waits. He waits and he watches. Because there was something oddly fascinating about watching his entire life pass in a matter of seconds. He can only discern a handful of memories: a younger version of himself tugging on one of Milagro's pigtails, earning a distasteful stare from his sister; him and Tye walking casually, each with a board in tow; him getting caught in the explosion at Kord Industries; the scarab speaking in his mind for the first time.

As each individual memory floats across his brain, Jaime felt as if a knife was being jabbed between his eyes.

"Interesting," Psimon murmurs later. 'Later' felt like months, maybe years to Jaime, but for all he knew it could have just as easily been only a few seconds. "You seem to have a mental block on this particular memory. Let's delve a little deeper, shall we?"

"No!" Jaime yelped, an octave higher than he meant to.

He could feel the psychic prying further into his mind, but Psimon couldn't have this memory. This memory was private and meant for Jaime only. Well, maybe not just for Jaime.

As Psimon's powers worked, the memory began to take shape, first a hazy outline, and then a fully defined image. Jaime felt lightheaded, as if his brain was floating somewhere above his skull.

"No," he said again, this time in a pleading tone.

It was the night subsequent to the Reach's defeat. They'd beaten the aliens, but the price had been high. Still, the Team chose celebration rather than mourning. Towards the end of the evening, somewhere between slurred words and clouded thoughts, Jaime's lips had found Bart's.

Jaime had chocked the event up to a bit too much partying in his system, but Bart shook his head adamantly. "Sorry her-man-oh, but as something my mom used to say: no matter what a person does, in their dreams or when intoxicated, it's still them. They still made the choice."

At this, Jaime had pressed his mouth to Bart's once more…

Without even looking at him, Jaime could feel the heat of Psimon's smirk. "Now, who exactly is—"

More images of him and Bart, mainly of them in their hero attire, began to take form.

"Ah, I see. The Flash's brat. A 'tourist from the future', am I correct?"

No actually you're not. Jaime wanted to internally kick himself. "Yeah, he's… a tourist. Like you said."

"Reveal."

Nonononono.

Jaime struggled, but Psimon's mental hold on him was like a vise. The next memory to surge to the surface of Jaime's mind was of when Impulse had freed him from his containment pod aboard the Reach ship. That was also when Bart had confided that he had built the time machine himself, and had journeyed to the past to prevent the Reach apocalypse (and to save Jaime from becoming the Reach's puppet).

But the fact that Bart had built an actual time machine and had successfully used it to alter the time-stream, made him, not only the most valuable asset the League had, but the most powerful. And now Psimon knew. Now one of Queen Bee's consorts knew that Bart Allen could defy the laws and principles of reality. He could bend time and reshape history.

'Jaime Reyes, I have analyzed the Psimon's psychic hold on us. While I do not function at full capacity, if you grant me control over our body, I should be able to free us.'

Do it.

Gravel bit into Jaime's cheek as he shifted into a sitting position. His body complied, but ached at the slightest bit of applied pressure. He began to knead his forehead with his knuckles to silence the thrumming reverberating through his skull, until a single, desperate thought struck him. "Bart!"

He whipped his head up so fast he got whiplash, but he didn't care. Suddenly he was stumbling to his feet, stumbling, running, flying until the surrounding fixtures became one big pointless blur.

"Blue! Where are you—?" the confused voice reached his ears, and Jaime landed opposite from three of his teammates. He wasn't really sure which three though; their outlines were all fuzzy.

"Where's Bart?" The words were flung so fast and forcefully from Jaime's throat that it sounded more like a guttural cry than a question.

"I-isn't he with you?"

Jaime shook his head fervently. He and Bart had split up near the start of the mission, long before Psimon had confronted him.

"I'll put the psychic link up. But I'm sure everything's fine." The voice was friendly and gentle, but sounded so far away. Everything was suddenly so far away.

'I have already scanned for the one you call Bart Allen. He is nowhere within the vicinity," Scarab paused, and if Jaime didn't know any better, he would've thought he detected a twinge of genuine emotion in Khaji Da's voice. 'I am sorry Jaime Reyes. The Kidflash is gone.'

Jaime's vision began to blur, becoming red around the edges. The sound of the world around him faded into a wet pounding in his ears, the sound of blood coursing through veins.

The Light had taken Bart.

"My fault. All my fault."