EDITED: September 1st, 2022.
To RedUnicorns, Beautiful dreaming warrior, fenix22222, and naseem-miah97—thank you for following and favoriting! I hope you're all doing great, and enjoy the next chapter!
12 - Understanding Quarter
A cup of mocha frappe on her desk. A yellow post-it with a cute smiley face and the word Enjoy! written in chicken scrawl.
A thoughtful gift. A kind gesture.
Karen called it like it was: blackmail.
For the last month, she had lived in a constant state of anxiety and annoyance, all courtesy of one Barry Allen and his unlikely acquaintance, the Arrow. The latter's promise to message her hadn't come but she knew he would follow his word; the reminder ticked like a bomb in the back of her mind, a dread she shook off every day at night when it was time to sleep.
Barry, on the other hand, was an hourly inconvenience on a weekly basis.
Karen had lost count of the messages she received from him so far. Her inbox was damn full, that's for sure. He'd called her nonstop the first week the station's main floor had been cordoned off and when she hadn't answered, he resorted to messaging her through all her social accounts. She gleefully blocked him—but the smartass took to calling her from the station's other phones.
Three blissful days of absolute silence ended when David shadowed her doorstep.
"You can't block the station's number," he grumbled. "I get it you don't want to chat with Allen, believe me, but West and I are at our wits' end. So, either I order you to stop hiding from him or you put on your grown-up pants yourself."
On her return, Karen inevitably met Barry, who waited for her with his first frappe bribe at her desk, looking too bright for a man who 'being tardy' was his main adjective.
"Good morning!" he'd chirped.
"I'm having a terrible feeling of déjà vu," she said, and stole the drink before he could edge a word in. She was skeptical, not stupid.
His bewilderment faded into a grimace. "Oh, right." As she sat, he rested his arms on her counter and leaned forward. "So... did you hear my voicemail?"
She booted up her work computer. "Which one?"
He laughed self-consciously. "Uhm, the one about coming to STAR Labs."
"No."
"No?"
"The answer's no. I'm not going to STAR Labs now or ever." Karen looked up, and his hopeful smile diminished. "I'm not a lab rat."
"That's not—" He exhaled. "Aren't you even excited about what you can do? Or a little bit worried?"
"I can do nothing. Am I excited to heal faster than normal people?" She clacked obnoxiously. "Not really. Am I worried? Of course I am."
"Then let my team run some tests on you. You already met one of them—remember Dr. Snow? She can help you and she's very discreet—"
"I've got Mattie, thank you very much."
He rolled his eyes. "Of course she knows. But she doesn't have the right equipment—"
"I am perfectly satisfied with the information I've received so far." Karen gave him a smile that could've frozen a pyrokinetic metahuman. "If that's all, Mr. Allen... butt out of my business."
"So we're back to last names," he muttered under his breath.
"I've never called you by your name."
He squinted down at her. "Yes, you have."
She didn't remember. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she'd dropped her defenses around him a little.
It should've ended on that note. Damn Barry and his stubbornness though—not only did she get a frappe every day, the CSI sent her memes too. Memes. Of all things that could've occurred him—and it wasn't just that. He also sent her random pictures. Of his desk, of the view from his lab. One memorable selfie with Eddie Thawne included Joe West's baffled expression and Captain Singh's Bert frown in the background. She could almost hear David's "What the hell are you doing, Allen?"
Had Barry discovered some form of torture she was unaware of? Was this his slow, methodical way of convincing her to accompany him to STAR Labs? She hated not knowing what he was up to. Hated the way he tried to get her out of her comfortable shell. She loved where she was, thank you very much.
A sudden wave of noise hit her. It was so loud it made her sway a little, but she held onto the edge on time.
Damn it. Breathing through her nose with her mouth closed, she counted to ten before switching. The disturbance and her headache remained but at least she could stand on her own. How unlucky of her to choose heels today.
The elevator's doors opened. A throng of livid people stepped out, arguing at the top of their lungs. Women, men, and children of all ages cluttered the front of the pit, accompanied by harried officers and one pissed Joe West. The emergency door that led to the stairs opened too and more people joined, just as angry. A disheveled Eddie Thawne led them.
It was he who she approached, giving him her drink (take that, Barry). Eddie usually made a show of being humble and refusing gifts, but he greedily sipped the straw this time, cheeks hollowing as he drank.
"What's this all about?" she asked—practically yelling over the arguing group. She eyed them, curious about the multiple butterfly band aids and bruises.
Eddie had to yell back. "Bank robbery! Kind of!"
"What do you mean?"
A blond woman, waif-like, attached herself to his arm. She was dressed like a new mom, with loose clothes stained with questionable formula. She looked so traumatized Karen stole her drink back from Eddie, uncapped it with the straw, and thrust it into her hands. The woman jerked at the coldness, but tentatively drank it. Color returned to her cheeks.
"Thank you," said the woman hoarsely. Then winced, reaching for her head.
"Are you ready to give your witness account?" Karen asked gently, leading her around the mob and towards her desk.
The woman started nodding her head, but then shook it frantically.
"That's fine." Karen caught Eddie's eye and pointed at the opposite counter, mimicking a quilt over her shoulder. The detective nodded and went there.
"EVERYBODY QUIET!" yelled Joe West with cupped hands around his mouth.
It was his Dad's Voice. It quieted the whole station, including officers and thugs that were being written up. Even Karen stood to attention, her body thrumming in alert.
"Right." Joe nodded to himself, watching the crowd carefully. "I understand what you went through was confusing and traumatic to a point. But everybody needs to give their statement about their version of the events to get to bottom of this and find the culprit." He gestured at the wall, where the station's mission shone in gold. Truth. Liberty. Justice. Impossible to ignore. "If you could all line up there while you wait. We won't take a lot of your time."
"This is like the Mardon case," said Eddie low, after draping the quilt over the woman's shoulders.
Karen turned to him immediately, one arm wrapped arounder stomach while the other scratched her chin.
"How?"
"Well, what most of them have been saying doesn't make sense. They all got aggressive. Excessively." He shook his head. "Security footage shows them trying to kill each other—and then there was that streak." Frustration settled on his face.
She sighed. "Don't tell me you think it's got something to do with it." Karen blamed Barry for Eddie's obsession. If he were less conspicuous, the detective would've dropped his investigation on the 'red streak'. Instead, Iris West wrote daily about him in her blog and gushed about his heroics. From what Eddie told her, the young West had attracted the attention of the Central City Picture News' scouting team. Thus, his mild interest had slowly transcended into annoyance and then to worry. Now Karen had to deal with the detective's weird, conspiracy theories and bite her fist whenever the truth threatened to spout from her mouth.
"Maybe." He placed his fists on his hips. "But it wouldn't be the first time something out of the extraordinary has popped up." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to propose the task force idea."
The 'task force idea', as he eloquently put it, was short for creating a team of scientists, officers, and certain individuals of Central City's municipality such as the mayor and the D.A. that would take care of the enhanced humans provoking havoc in the city. It had no official name yet, but Karen mentally called it the 'Metahuman Task Force' and refrained from thinking about the ordeal; she wanted nothing to do with it despite having helped Eddie produce the bare bones of the proposal. Karen did not want to be the first subject the Metahuman Task Force brought in.
"Good for you," she said.
His Adam's apple bobbed. "I'm going to do it now."
She nodded. "Good luck." She meant it.
"I want to you to be there."
"No way." She walked away, but Eddie followed her, flashing her his big, blue eyes.
"C'mon, Karen. This is mostly your work—your baby! I didn't even know we would need an anthropologist!"
"Common sense, Eddie," she gritted out. She sat back at her desk, but Thawne overcrowded it with his presence.
"He's going to say no to me, we both know it. But if you pitch it, Singh will hesitate. I need him to at least consider this matter."
But not for the reasons he thought. "It's not gonna go like you think."
His eyes got bigger, shinier. He reminded her of Puss in Boots from Shrek. If he were not an honest man, Karen would've thought he was doing it on purpose.
It was unfortunate she liked Eddie. Sort of. He was good and genuine and he never, ever, lied, even if it meant it would place him in an awkward position. He was a man sure of himself and treated others like they weren't the psychopaths they probably were—like Karen. That was just him as a man, but as an officer? He wanted to help people.
He reminded her of David when they first met.
She sighed. And held out her hand for the file.
000•000•000
It was a terrible plan. No, a terrible execution of the plan.
For starters, Eddie shouldn't have started the conversation. His reasons eluded her—they'd accorded for her to gently approach the topic, but no—he had to bulldoze his way into David's office while she was on a lunch break. And when she returned, lo and behold—Barry Allen, the source of Thawne's frustrations, was watching from the entrance of the Pit of Hell, arms crossed and jaw ticking.
Karen did half-a-turn, stopped only by his voice.
"Did you know he was going to do this?"
Against her wishes, she stupidly replied, "Do what?"
Barry threw her the meanest glare he could work up. It seemed more like he was throwing her shade though.
Karen settled next to him and copied his position, fingers tapping her metal cuff.
"I told you this was going to happen," she said in a tilting voice, almost mocking. "Eddie's not stupid." Her tone implied unlike you. "And the fact that you and his girlfriend have been flirting through her blog gave him the proper motivation to do something about the other metas."
Barry's head snapped in her direction.
"We have not been flirting." He sounded mortified. And doubtful. He got a look in his face that told her he was running through those messages in his head. "Oh my god, we were."
Karen sighed so loudly wind blew past her lips and her bangs fluttered. She pushed the hair back and examined her nails, straining her good ear towards her foster father and the detective's conversation.
"...The Blur, The Flash, the man in the red suit... Whatever he's called... He was spotted at the bank this morning."
"You mean the bank that was robbed of one-half million dollars, where a dozen people tried to murder each other," the wrinkling of paper, "and you think our attention should be focused on catching Santa Claus."
"How did you know Iris is in contact with the Streak?" Barry asked suddenly, eyes narrowed.
She widened her eyes for added dramatics. "You really call yourself 'the Streak'? That's terrible, Barry—terrible, terrible decision."
"You're deflecting."
"At least it's not the blur. That's just plain stupid. And copyrighted, I think. Wasn't there a character from the Warrior Angel comics with that name?"
"Joe, help me out here."
"Sorry, partner. I stopped believing in Santa when I was about eight."
"Karen."
"Because Eddie asked me to investigate the 'red streak', okay?"
"No! Not 'okay'!" He rubbed his neck. "Please tell me you didn't have anything to do with that task force of his."
Karen couldn't find it in her to look at him. "I helped him outline the draft."
"Ohmygod." Barry got closer to her, leaning down to hiss in her ear. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You put a target on our backs!"
Angry, she turned to him, ignoring their sudden closeness and the curious pairs of eyes peering at them. "No, do you know what I did? I laid out the foundation of what probably is going to become the metahuman rights. You can't be wholly blind about what's coming. It's just Eddie right now, but what if it were someone morally corrupt who pitched in the idea? Barry, we would lose so much more—people would mass panic and try to fork us out into the light. And then the metahumans will panic and it's going to be complete chaos. No balance, zero control!
"This?" She pointed at Eddie. "This is the barebones of something bigger than you or I. We're speaking about the future of hundreds of people!"
"There can't be that many metas."
Karen pitied him then.
"Barry, you can't be this naive. Enhanced beings have always existed." His eyes widened. "Not to this magnitude, but there's always been a record in the history books about the extraordinary. People inexplicably saved during World War I. Others disappearing without a word. A case here and there that remained unsolved." They regarded each other, until the familiar clacking of Iris' footsteps made her step back. "Just think it through before you make Eddie the villain here."
Her phone pinged when she sat back at her desk. Closing her eyes, just knowing whom it came from, she ignored it.
000•000•000
The Arrow appointed her to a meeting at Jitters the next day, mid-day. Jitters. Karen had the worst case of the jitters—no pun intended—accompanied by a hysterical laugh and the feeling that this was going from bad to terrible. No discussion that involved the League of Assassins should be had over coffee.
She was the first one to arrive, wondering about Oliver's sanity, when he came in... followed by Felicity Smoak.
Son of a bitch.
"Okay, what is she doing here?" said the girl, her ponytail swinging from doing a ping pong game in her head, her finger keeping up as she pointed at Oliver, Karen, Oliver, Karen.
"I should be asking that." Oliver rolled his eyes heavenward. Karen got snippy. "You're the one who brought her."
"She kind of followed."
Karen raised her eyebrows as Felicity snapped, "Uh, yeah, cause you promised Barry to meet him here!"
"Wait, what?" The secretary stood, palms on the table, just as the familiar sound of Barry's lightning crackled outside the shop.
The young man walked in, vibrating in excitement. His smile fell once he caught sight of the three of them together. He approached wearily, hands pocketed in his jeans.
"Oh, you've really done it," said Karen, sitting back heavily.
"Hey, Bear! Can I take your order?" chirped Iris West. Then her mouth fell open and her eyes got sparkly at the sight of Oliver Queen.
This was the culmination of all her bad choices. Karma existed, indeed.
000•000•000
After Barry dealt with Iris' excitement (he totally did not need to know about her Three List), Felicity patted his shoulder with a sour expression and joined his oldest friend, leaving him to the tender mercies of the pair of blondes seated at the furthest table from the counter. When he drew up, he realized the spot had a perfect view of the whole place, including the front and back entrances as well as the floor above. He thought Oliver chose the arrangement, until he noticed Karen settled with her back against the wall. The man would've never allowed such error.
He couldn't believe he was going to have a meeting—a superhero meeting—with a former playboy millionaire and his ex-girlfriend.
Yesterday's conversation lingered in his head. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about what should happen to the metas he fought, but not to her neurotic levels. He forgot she was a chronic worrier, but the fact that she was freaking out over something that was very real for both hammered that the Flash wasn't enough. First, because she was right; second, because he could see her dystopic vision coming true.
That didn't mean he had to like it. Or that he should be happy it was Eddie who threw the Flash under the bus.
He saw down next to Oliver, across from Karen. She had her head lowered and was playing with her cuff. Probably tracing the symbol on the inside of the wrist. It had always soothed her for reasons unknown, and the one time Barry asked, she'd pulled her 'no comment' card and made it up with cookie dough ice cream.
"This is work business," Oliver stated.
"Yours, mine's, or his?" Was the sharp retort.
Curiosity prickled at him. Just what would Karen have in common with Oliver? Why would Oliver ask them both to rendezvous at the same time? He eyed them suspiciously, feeling very much like a third wheel.
"For the time being, this concerns all of us." He gestured at Barry to sit, leaning forward, and lowering his voice. "The man you're looking for is Ray G. Bivolo, a low time thug with friends in high places."
"Meaning the lowest," Barry chuckled. The look on Oliver's face sent a shiver down his spine. "Wait—the guy's still alive, right?" Karen snorted. "It's a valid question," Barry defended.
Oliver rolled his eyes at them. "He is." He turned to Karen. "He's got a connection with our murderer."
Karen pulled out her phone and typed with her thumb, ignoring Barry's alarmed echo of murderer? Neither explained Oliver's cryptic words, leaving the scientist to roll his eyes.
"I thought you didn't want to help?"
Oliver was stoic. "I'm not. We simply happen to have a target in common."
Barry stood on his tiptoes to peer down at Karen's phone. He was grateful for his speed; she typed so fast she might as well have the beginnings of a being a speedster. Her healing factor didn't exactly say what kind of metahuman she was, unless she could heal others. He caught sight of the A.R.G.U.S. logo before Bivolo's picture popped up. As he sped-read the file, Barry thought it was more a checklist of his 'acquaintances' than useful information on the man itself.
She whistled. "He's a whistleblower."
"Former," said Oliver, thrusting his hand in her direction. Karen gave her phone reluctantly.
"Try to look for anything else, it will automatically block itself."
Barry thought she meant the site until she tapped the plastic meaningfully with her nails. Impressed, he allowed himself to stare at her a beat longer—until Oliver's rumble distracted him.
"It's a good thing I'm still getting the hang of these then."
The blonde grinned evilly. "You poor, little man." She leaned close to Oliver, as if she needed to keep reading the file—though Barry was very much aware of her near eidetic skills. What was she trying to do? Confirm that Oliver wasn't violating her privacy? Because she was invading his space and the vigilante, shockingly, wasn't turning his glare of doom on her. Barry recalled it perfectly, the feel of Oliver's fingers still lingering around his throat. Why didn't Karen get the same treatment? Because she was a woman? Because there was more to their acquaintanceship than implied?
He cleared his throat noisily. It drew their attention up to him.
"Are you going to share with the class? Whistleblower? For whom?"
"For the highest bidder," said Oliver, squinting down at Karen's iPhone. "The Falcones, Intergang—and most recently, ARGUS. Bivolo is the kind of man whose secrets are worth lives."
Barry knew those type of men. They were common in his line of work. But that Bivolo—a frail-looking, unattractive man—had that kind of reputation was dubious. With the power he had displayed, on the other hand...
"And he can make people turn into the scariest versions of themselves with a flash of his eyes." Barry groaned. "Just what we needed."
"You could just take care of him," said Karen carelessly. She snapped her fingers with a whoosh, pointing at her heart.
"He just can't kill him," Barry snapped at her. He turned hesitantly to their vigilante companion. "Right?"
Oliver crossed his arms and regarded Karen and Barry with a slight of curiosity.
"Barry, the last time we saw each other, I omitted telling you Karen was collaborating with us on a consultant basis. It's part of the reason why my team and I are here. Bivolo is not the priority, though I'm curious of his sudden appearance."
Yeah, it couldn't be a coincidence. Barry held his breath as Karen, annoyed, said, "Are you going somewhere with this?"
"If we work together," Oliver gestured at both, "will this be an obstacle?"
The former couple gaped at him in silence. It was at that moment when Iris returned with a tray containing their drinks.
"An Americano with three shots of expresso, one mocha frappe with whipped cream, and one black coffee for Mr. Queen."
The girl was breathless as she regarded Oliver. Barry couldn't watch anymore, nor could he look in Karen's direction. What he found was Felicity calmly drinking from her own beverage, throwing him a thumbs up.
Caitlin was right when she said he needed to sort his priorities. His mom's case was always at the top, but the rest of his life was a mess. His performance at work had declined due to his time as the Flash; his friendship with Iris had soured briefly while his conflict with Karen lessened. Today the tables were flipped, and it was Iris who adored the Flash whereas Karen ran on him every single time. What did it say of him that he didn't care the risk he was placing Iris's relationship with Eddie? Or that he felt the right to be disgruntled at Karen's seeming trust in the Arrow? Did his selfishness make him a terrible person?
Oliver cleared his throat. Iris had gone and it was just the three of them again.
"Barry?"
He shook his head. "Nope. Won't be a problem."
The men looked at Karen. She was looking straight at Barry.
"This is strictly business. I don't want to hear anything about your heroics or STAR Labs. Promise me."
Her eyes were wide, threatening. At least they were until he spotted the glossiness in them and the trembling of her finger—the one that always sought that enormous cuff around her wrist. Was she tracing the S inside its diamond casing? It didn't matter—not when she looked this apprehensive. This afraid.
His stomach dropped.
"Of course," he said softly.
Another reminder of why they hadn't worked out: Karen's hesitance around him. They really hadn't trusted each other, had they?