Purgatory of Contrition

Disclaimer: I don't own The Flash

Author's Note: Chapter theme is "Electric Sun" by VNV Nation. I HIGHLY recommended you listen to this song while reading this chapter! Beware, this is intense.

Savitar didn't sleep much.

Nothing good happened when he slept.

Maybe that added to the fragility in his sanity, but he couldn't let himself sleep. When he slept he dreamed, and then the nightmares would find him, his memories of that place would smother him, chase him, beat him, leaving him bloodied and bruised. When his memories found him, he was powerless to stop them, no trace of any ability to wake in his grasp, no respite for his shuddering soul that cried like a wounded animal in the cold.

Like any night, Savitar lay paralyzed, his body seizing, his muscles tensing, cramping with distress, his anguish was a cry he couldn't get out. He wanted to scream but his body trapped him, forcing him to suffer. His mind assaulted him, his inner turmoil a righteous and overbearing wrath.

In his dreams he saw himself, he saw how he once was, Barry Allen, a splintered form of the original, staring in disbelief at the people he once called his family, his friends, turning their backs to him. He saw the angry grief in his double's face, the loss, the pain. He saw them pointing fingers at him, condemning him, accusing him. They all had heard what Savitar said, that he, this copy of Barry, was the true Savitar, that he would ruin them all. All of this before he was removed forcibly.

No! He wasn't Savitar! He tried to tell them, tried to plead his case, beg them to listen, but their grief clouded their minds, their fear finalizing their decisions. His words meant nothing, his begging that he wasn't the monster they labeled him as, dragged into the same prison Savitar had ripped himself out of, using any means necessary. Without giving him a fair trial, they sentenced him to the same prison Savitar had been held in.

Disbelief flooded him, watching them turn their backs to him, even in their sadness, looking away from him, ignoring his cries to be heard. He was worse than a copy, he was a copy meant to turn into a demon! He felt betrayed, hopeless, he knew he was just a remnant, but he didn't know Savitar would pick him! How could he have known out of all of them he would be the one spared by him? He did nothing to make them fear him!

Why was he sent to the speed force? Why him? He wasn't Savitar! He wasn't!

Trapped and alone, he remembered looking for anything, anyone, desperate for help, for answers. Nothing. No one came. Nothing but endless chaos, the essence of speed all around him, biting, shouting, colors, wind and lightning. It was at once everything, and nothing at all. And it was his only vision, his only view, his only law. No order. No one to rescue him. The dream intensified until his memories forcefully swam over him.

"Help!" Barry called, not no answer came. His breathing climbed, his nerves tensing, his sorrow flooding him. "Please, help me! Anyone! Let me out of here! Please!" he cried, but only the rushing sounds of the speed force around him, endless and all encompassing. So loud, so very loud! Make it stop!

And then he heard it.

Beyond the roar of speed.

A voice, calling his name.

A deep and mechanical voice, almost as though it was coming from within his own skull. He knew this voice. He fought this voice. He hated and feared this voice. Please, anything, anyone out there listening, if anything existed, please, not him! Not that monster! Fear struck his heart, making him cower, making him spin around, desperate to find the source. There was nothing. Still hopeless nothingness. No life. No movement beyond the speed. No hope.

"Barry…"

"Where are you!?" Barry shouted, anger almost overcoming his fear. Almost.

Barry!"

Barry cringed, the call like an explosion rattling in his head, leaving him helpless to the effect, his teeth clenched, his body taut, his fingers gripping his head. This had to be a dream, this had to be a nightmare! He would wake up and find Joe, and Iris, and all his friends. He wasn't truly here, he wasn't betrayed! He wasn't sentenced to this hell! It never happened! He was asleep! This couldn't be real!

"But it is, Barry… it is very real..."

"No…" he whimpered, shaking, his eyes shut tight, not willing to accept it.

"This is your new existence, Barry. Condemnation, sentenced to a hopeless ether of nothingness and everything, a punishment for something you will do. Something you can not escape from."

"No, no no, no!" Barry cried, backing away, his head spinning, his eyes searching, but still nothing appeared. "I didn't do anything! I didn't! I did nothing wrong! It was a mistake!"

"You will… it is your destiny, your sole purpose."

"Leave me alone!" Barry screamed harshly, all but ripping his throat apart, but all he heard was a deep laughter, echoing all around him and from nowhere all at once.

"I cannot leave, because I am you."

Barry stood paralyzed, gasping breaths making his vision swim. "No, that's not true, I'm Barry Allen!"

"You are nothing!" The voice howled. Barry cringed at the roar in his mind, the pain from it making him stumble back. "You aren't even a true copy! You are nothing but a footstep in the sand, at the mercy of the winds of reality, sweeping you away, leaving you vanished and forgotten, dead to time passing you by, like you weren't even there…"

"No…" Barry cried in denial, his tears falling freely now. "I-I'm not..!"

"Do not resist this, do not turn away from what will happen, there is no escaping it. You will become me… you will become what you were meant to be. There is no stopping it. It is already done. Has been done. Will be done."

"Never!" Barry screamed. "I won't!"

The voice laughed, mocking and tormenting. "You already have. You were always me. The moment you were brought into existence, fate signed your pathetic hope away. Accept it, Barry. You know what you must do… making him suffer, killing her, starting it all over again, it will be your only salvation."

Barry stumbled back and fell, his heart shattering, his brain splitting. "No! Never! No!" he howled, raging against the very idea, sobs interrupted by screams. Going back in time just to be the one to kill the love of his life? "I will never hurt her! I will never become you!" he cried. He knew that killing Iris would not only destroy the other Barry, but also destroy himself, send him into a shock of pain so great he would never be able to recover. But that was the point, wasn't it? That was the very essence of Savitar.

The voice was smug, dancing around his consciousness, just out of reach, pleased with how his mind connected the dots, reading his mind. "You will. You know it, deep down. You have no choice. I am your only hope. You will learn. Soon you will learn to use the Speed Force to corrupt the weak minded, to bend their wills to yours. You will do this and ascend, transcend this place and become me."

"No… please…" Barry whimpered, shaking hard, desperately holding on to the hope that this was a cruel dream.

"You are nothing, Barry. You are a memory, an echo, a remnant. This is the only way, there is no other, your rights were already sealed the very moment you took your first breath." And then the images rushed to him, the inescapable landscape of the force around him transforming into the moment of his inception. The death of Iris West.

Barry recoiled, horror stabbing him in the heart. "No! Please! Please stop! Please don't make me see this!" he sobbed, but was unable to block his vision, no matter what he did, where he turned, even if he closed his eyes, the image of Savitar killing Iris, of him powerless to stop him, of him in the armor, running his blade through her back, seeing his own past self crying out in anguish.

"Make him suffer, Barry. Crush his spirit. Destroy the one thing he cherishes above everything else. Kill Iris. His future wife. His best friend. His soul mate. Kill her. This is your only escape…" the voice hummed, thrilling in his tortured screams.

"No god damn you! Never! Never Iris!" he cried, defying him, clutching his head, his vision blurred by tears and dismay.

"Always Iris. Her purity, forsaken by her love, by you, the very person she trusts the most, loves the most, torn apart, wrenched away, cruel and cold. Killing her would destroy Barry Allen, and free you. It is the key to your true freedom, the only way out of your eternal suffering, your endless prison. The end to your pain."

"This isn't real! How could you possible even be here?! How can I hear you!"

The voice laughed. "I told you, Barry. I am you."

"You aren't! I'm not you!" he repeated. "I would rather die than be you!"

"But you won't die. Not here. Not ever. No death. No life. No family. No love. No warmth. No hope. No control. No humanity. Nothing and everything to endure for all eternity. No escape. No battles to be won. Nothing to do but to exist without existence. Barry… you know the only way out. Iris must die. Barry Allen must die." Barry fell to his knees, sobbing, crying out to a god that would not hear him. "There is no god here, Barry. Only me. I am the future... Flash."

Barry knew he was losing his mind, knew he was hallucinating. Iris ran toward him, her hand outstretched, trying to save him. Hope surged within him and he scrambled to his feet, running to her, despite knowing she was dead, knowing he had failed, his mind too desperate, his own hand yearning to reach hers, praying she would rescue him, pull him out of this nightmare.

Suddenly the hulking mass of Savitar appeared before him instead, as real and imposing as ever, the vision of Iris vanishing like smoke. The armored beast roared at him, a scream of rage so loud it pierced his ears, making him stumble back with pain and terror. Savitar released his blades and slashed them at him, making him scream as it felt too real, almost feeling the blades, almost feeling the lacerations in his chest, the warmth of his own blood.

"Run!"

The howling command set his legs in motion, unable to stop himself, desperate to get away. Barry ran for what felt like an eternity, all the while the voice pressed down on his mind, the burden of the beast ever at his heels, chasing him down. Fear, denial, crushing hopelessness, loneliness, betrayal, all of the despair in his soul spinning in his mind, again and again.

Barry ran, always running, never stopping.

The phantom of Savitar never let him rest, never let him forget his fate, always inside his memories. He ran and he ran, seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. He was so tired of running, so tired of existence. When he stopped, Savitar was there, his blades driven in his chest, across his neck, through his eyes, the pain blinding him, until he was too scared to stop. He ran until his resentment built, until his hate for Savitar, his hate for Barry Allen, his hate for everything grew. He ran until all he knew was pain, and loneliness, and hatred.

How long had he been running?

Days? Years?

He just wanted out! He wanted out! He couldn't take it! Make it stop!

"You know what you must do…" the voice reminded him. "You are half way gone already, your humanity slipping, no hope for redemption except in dutiful acceptance." Barry sobbed as he ran, his only relief when he began to cave, when his fragile soul began to lose the fight. "You are beginning to accept who you are. Your freedom is a lie, hope a betrayal, your defeat is your only deliverance. There is no choice but this one. The loop is your existence… now run! Run!"

So he ran.

Barry ran and ran, faster and faster, until he burned, until his body became infused with the raw essence of speed around him, until the pain of his flesh melting blinded him, until his mind began to fragment. Barry burned and he ran, he ran and he screamed. Fire, like nothing he had ever experienced, surged around him, white, blue, purple, like a supernova, surging all around him, competing with the endless lightning assaulting his nerves. The fires of hell. Fire as white and hot as the most blazing, angry sun, charring his skin, his flesh cooking.

Still he ran, howling and screaming in violent pain, until he could not sustain it, until he collapsed, his body crashing to the perceived floor, merciful as it put the flames out. Most of them. He fell onto his back, writhing and screaming, like an animal in excruciating pain, the sensation eternal as his body burned. He struggled to his feet, hearing the voice again, laughing, laughing all around him, until it dawned on him... the laughter was coming from his own throat. The voice was his. He fell to his knees again, crying and laughing.

Then there was silence.

No voice. No Savitar. No hallucination. Nothing. Only emptiness and the utter insurmountable loneliness and hate. So much hate. So much pain. Make it stop! Make the pain stop! He needed to do something. What was it he needed to do? Then a break in the nothingness in his crumbling mind. He saw it. The armor, but unmoving. He knew how to build it. He knew how to manipulate others into sending him the parts. He knew how to tap into the speed force. He had been there so long… so very long…

That was all he was now. He was the speed force. He was nothing and everything. He had no identity now. No purpose, other than freedom, other than the burning anger in his soul, the betrayal in his heart, and the twisted madness in his mind. Who was he? He had been running for so long! He couldn't remember. He had memories, but they were locked away. Who was he? But then he thought of something, something that made sense to him.

Savitar… that was a good name.

A mirror appeared before him then. He struggled to his feet and stumbled toward it, confused and intrigued. He flinched, seeing his tormentor again, towering and menacing, but when he blinked… he only saw himself. He saw himself grinning like a deranged madman, his mangled visage laughing.

He was Savitar.

He had always been and would always ever be Savitar.

He had no hope for anything else.

Not ever.

Savitar finally tore from his tormenting dream, the nightmarish memory that chased him down everywhere he went. He convulsed as he struggled awake, screaming and crying. He howled until he could cry out no more, until his lungs burned, like the freshly seared flesh from his memories. When he could no longer scream, he curled up, gripping his head, panting and gasping for breath. "Please… please make it stop… please just let me die…" he whimpered, shuddering as he tried and tried to calm down.

The soothing feeling of cold air moved over him then, bringing his mind back to a stop from running, always running. He focused on it, the rush of speed from him memories dying away. He heard the gentle rustling of leaves, the soft crickets in the grass outside, the distant hum of life around him, even in the dead of night. He took a few gasping breaths, trying to comfort himself, to remind himself that he wasn't there anymore, that he was free from it, that…

Iris.

His battered mind suddenly spun, coming to a striking realization, something so strong and so obvious he felt himself break. Iris… she had ended the loop. She had severed it, when nothing he ever did could. When she shot him, she had… she had essentially killed Savitar, killed his endless tormentor. She had saved him from his eternal suffering.

And then with that thought came all encompassing fear and the sense of being lost, feeling giddy, and being horrified. He tensed, flinching involuntarily as he expected his tormentor to taunt him, lash out... but he didn't hear himself berate himself this time. Was he... truly gone..?

Now he was left with a single disturbing thought. Everything he knew, everything he'd done, was for nothing and on top of that, he understood now that it had all been for the wrong reasons. He realized with every loop, he had driven himself more insane with grief and loneliness, until Savitar was born. An echo of Savitar remained within the speed force, to taint each incarnation of Barry Allen's time remnant, each loop feeding into the next, his alter ego always there, always influencing. Without the loop, he no longer had the influence. His mind didn't race incessantly like it had before. He was free.

Iris had been his salvation all along. She had set him free.

And with that realization, came the hopeless grief and regret. He deserved the pain, the suffering, the choking sadness. It was his new fate, but one he decided was worth far more. With tears still clinging to his cheeks, Savitar fell back sleep, fitful but with more stillness than he felt in so very long, curled up on the cement floor of the old wire factory. Even in sleep, a thought remained on his mind.

Iris must live.

Iris must be protected.

Especially from himself.