Flash Through Like Lightning [The Flash Fanfic]

If Harrison broke out the brandy, it was really his business and Barry didn't say anything about it. He did silently pour her a glass, and she quietly accepted it though.

"Sometimes I remember her," he said, letting her assume he was talking about Tess Morgan when he was really talking about her...in several other timelines. "I can see her dying in front of me all the time."

Barry glanced at him worriedly, but he was going to get this out, whether or not she would understand. By the time she understood, it would be too late and he would be long home and away from this time.

"Sometimes I'm bitter and angry that she died before me. That she died in front of me, and I couldn't do anything," and he stared directly into her eyes, just barely refraining from glaring at her. "In my memories and dreams, she –" 'You –' "keeps leaving me behind and dying on me, and I resent the fact the images are burned into my memory."

Barry reached over and grasped his hand, giving him a small smile. He wanted to wrench his hand away, glare at her and scream obscenities. But she, unmindful of his hateful and resentful thoughts, held onto his hand tighter, and he felt all the negativity just deflate out of him and tiredness replace it. This was just like Barry; every other time he knew her, no matter how angry or reticent he got with her, she stubbornly held onto him.

"It's always painful to lose those close to us," Barry told him understandingly. "And it's not surprising that sometimes we feel angry at being left behind or having to be stuck remembering their deaths. It hurts after all. Sometimes you just want to forget, to run away."

He had run away. Several times from her dead body, trying to escape the image and the truth. He also hated how cowardly it felt, but then again he refused to leave her for dead at the same time.

Time, no matter how stuck he was in an eternal wager with it over Barry Allen's life and soul, was Harrison's ultimate opponent –aside from Barry herself.

With hesitation –but willing to take advantage of the moment and his perceived emotional turmoil (that wasn't all that faked, but merely displaced in true meaning) –Harrison carefully threaded his fingers through hers and gripped her hand more firmly. Bolstered by her not saying anything about it, he squeezed her hand and took a chance to glance at her.

She'd turned towards him after that and gave him an understanding look, along with one of her caring smiles. She bent forward and kissed his head kindly.

"I think we should both go back to bed," she declared, and took the alcohol and glass away from him as well. She carded her hand through his hair. "Goodnight, Dr. Wells. Feel better, alright? I don't think she would want you to be miserable and to remember her like this forever."

She climbed into bed and got settled as he startled to wheel back towards the computers, mind awhirl. He stopped halfway and turned to her, seeing her still watching him.

"Harrison," he said suddenly and she gave him a confused look. "You might as well call me Harrison, gathering you've seen me at my worse."

She gave him a hesitant smile, her cheeks pinking slightly. "Really?"

He gave her a returned faint smile. "Really. If you wish to only in private, that is fine as well. Goodnight, Barry."

The sound and taste of her name on his tongue was as familiar as it was both painful and bittersweet. And as he watched her fall asleep, his mind and thoughts weren't on returning home like they should've been. Instead, they revolved around the familiarity of watching her sleep, her even breaths, and her calming presence.

Harrison allowed himself to find peace and calm in it, all through the night and even into the morning, when Cisco and Caitlin returned to the lab.