Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The time remnant knew what dying felt like.

It wasn't peaceful. It wasn't brave. It wasn't even surprising.

It was static under his skin, white noise in his bloodstream. It was his bones liquefying and his lungs filling with fire. It was the magnetar ripping him inside out. Too fast to scream. Too final to be afraid.

He'd expected it.

He'd meant it.

That was the job - he was the decoy. The one who didn't make it. That was the point.

So when the energy hit him and everything fractured, he didn't fight it. Just closed his eyes and waited for nothing.

But then-

He landed. Hard.

The light cleared. The ground was under him. His lungs convulsed and dragged in breath like broken glass. His heart was still beating. Barely.

He whimpered. A small, startled sound that didn't feel like his. Pain blurred everything - his leg was twisted under him, one hand spasming. His ribs ground together when he tried to move. He couldn't tell if the pavement was wet or if it was his blood.

He wasn't dead.

But he was dying.

And it was going to take longer this way.

He couldn't scream. He couldn't even gasp. He wanted to call for help but he wasn't sure who he meant to call for anyway. Cisco? Caitlin? Barry?

No one was coming. He knew that. He didn't blame them.

To them, he'd vanished in a blaze of light. Atomized. Gone. Maybe they even grieved. Maybe? But he was alone now and the silence felt heavier than the pain.

He thought about Cisco's voice in the Cortex. Caitlin brushing his arm when he got too quiet. The way Iris's eyes crinkled when she laughed. Joe's steady presence. Even Harry's scowl. He'd take any of them now. Someone to hold him. Someone to say goodbye.

But the only sound was his own heartbeat - too fast, unsteady. Fading. Still, he could feel his body trying to knit itself back together.

The pavement scraped his forearms as he rolled to his stomach, dragging his body across the concrete. Every inch felt like a mile. His shoulder throbbed in rhythm with the pulse in his temple.

He didn't even know where he was going. Just away. Just forward.

He didn't recognize the street until he got to it.

Joe's house.

The thought barely registered before something like grief swallowed him whole.

Joe's house. His home. Or it had been, once.

He collapsed at the edge of the walkway, body curled tight, sobs tearing from his throat even though he couldn't cry. He was too dehydrated. Too burned. His suit was burned in patches, boots melted to his calves. He couldn't feel one foot.

He'd made it this far, he just wanted someone to find him now. Iris maybe. Joe. Cisco. Wally. Anyone.

Instead, he looked up, and there he was.

Barry - the original, whole, uninjured - stood frozen just in front of the house. The time remnant's chest clenched.

He knew that look. That grief. That terrible resolve.

"No," the remnant rasped. The sound was barely audible. His arms trembled under him. "No, no, no-"

He tried to move. His spine screamed. His knees buckled. He clawed forward anyway, leaving a smear of blood across the sidewalk.

The remnant's vision blurred. He tried again, scraping his broken limbs across the pavement. He needed to reach him. Needed to stop him.

But Barry didn't look back. He ran.

A streak of lightning vanished into the air and the time stream warped open in his wake.

The remnant cried out - not a word, just a ragged, desperate sound - and surged forward on sheer instinct.

If Barry changed the timeline, everything might break. The team, their victory, the entire reason he'd been created in the first place.

So he ran too.

The time stream caught him, pulling him up and in. For one suspended second, he thought he might make it, hand outstretched to grab Barry and pull him back.

Then it came.

The Time Wraith.

It didn't scream. It didn't warn. It just was - a shadow that sucked the light and warmth out of everything around it. And it was fast.

He felt the cold first. Then the pain.

Its hand grabbed his face where the cowl had been burned away, its fingers cutting into his skin like knives made of ice. Something in his cheekbone snapped and the muscles seemed to melt. He heard something pop like it had pulled something out of place. The vision in his right eye flickered out.

He screamed.

Not just from the pain but from the fear, the knowledge that something was suddenly very wrong. For a split second he thought Barry might look back at the noise. He didn't.

The remnant tore away, wrenching his body back through the edges of the time stream. It spat him out hard, somewhere dark and cold. He crashed into the ground, retching - his remaining vision doubled, then tripled, then narrowed to a pinhole.

His hand shook as he brought it to his face.

Raw. Agonizing. Wet. Gone.

Dead tissue spread from his hairline down his neck and across his ear. It burned from the inside in a way that told him it would never stop burning.

The remnant lay on his side in the dark, shaking.

He didn't know what part of time he'd landed in. He didn't know if Barry had changed the timeline. He didn't know if he would survive the night.

All he knew was that he didn't want to die alone and afraid.

Chapter Text

Barry hated that Eobard had been right.

Flashpoint had resulted in disaster. Wally, a speedster but nearly dead. Joe, an alcoholic on the brink of losing his job. Cisco, a wealthy tech mogul and a certifiable dick. Caitlin, a pediatric ophthalmologist? And worse, Barry had begun forgetting all of them the way they were before, just as Eobard had warned he would. His parents were alive but...at the cost of everything else.

So, he went back. And broke things further.

Cisco's brother, Dante, was dead and apparently Barry just...hadn't been there for him though he couldn't fathom why. His new (well, not new apparently, but new to him) coworker, Julian, was an asshole who apparently hated Barry as much as Barry hated him. Iris and Joe weren't on speaking terms for some reason he had yet to figure out. God, it was all a mess.

So, he went back. Again.

Jay tried to stop him, had sat him down at a diner on his Earth to explain that he could never put things back the way they were before - the timeline would never be fixed, could never be fixed, not really. But nothing anyone could have said would change his mind. He was just saving Dante - that's it. Cisco deserved that and, anyway, it was only a few months. How much could possibly change?

Everything, apparently.

When Barry entered the Cortex, he wasn't sure what to expect, if he was honest. Everything seemed...normal? Cisco was explaining something to Joe that Joe clearly wasn't following. Iris wasn't present but he hoped that wasn't because Joe was. Caitlin was in the medbay. Hartley was-

Hartley?

Before he could process Hartley's presence, he was interrupted by a boisterous man who looked like Harry but probably was not striding through the doors behind him, a tray of Jitters cups in his hands.

"Sumptuous day!" Definitely not Harry. "Oh, wait- no, on this Earth, I believe you say..."

"Good morning." Cisco supplied with a mildly amused look.

"Good morning!" Not-Harry echoed with a wide grin. "And it is, isn't it? I took the liberty of reading through your ledgers last night. A lot of information to absorb, but let's see how I did."

The man approached him first. "For you, my fleet-of-foot friend...you'd best stick to decaf." He handed it over with a theatrical wink.

Barry forced a laugh as he took the cup. "Probably for the best, yeah."

Not-Harry spun on his heel. "San Francisco!" To Barry's horror, the man put on an obnoxiously terrible French accent. "I have prepared for you a French roast with a touch of creamer."

Cisco grinned in amusement, taking the cup. "Thank you."

"You're welcome!"

Barry wondered if he was always so cheerful as the man glided across the room, handing Joe a cup.

"Detective West. A grounded man. One sugar, no cream. Classic."

Joe chuckled. "Appreciate that."

"Now Caitlin!" Not-Harry twirled theatrically, nearly spilling a cup but recovering it just in time. "White mocha, iced, plenty of whipped cream for our dear doctor with an extra shot of espresso for those sleepless nights of late."

Barry wondered what sleepless nights Caitlin had been having as she took the cup with a tired smile.

"Thanks, HR," she said. Barry wasn't sure if that was the man's name or not.

"And last but never least," he called, walking toward Caitlin's desk where Hartley was seated, typing away at a laptop, "for the maestro of multitasking himself - Hart-and-Soul! Soy cappuccino, half-sweet, dash of cinnamon. Because you, my friend, are a symphony of spice and subtlety."

Hartley met HR's eyes finally, a blank look on his features. Barry held his breath as Hartley took the cup.

Without looking away, without a word, slowly, deliberately Hartley dropped the entire cup into the trash beside him. The paper hit with a soft, wet thunk.

Steam curled faintly upward.

Hartley turned back to his work.

Silence.

"Well!" HR said brightly, voice only cracking a little. "Not a coffee guy, after all. Message received!" He chuckled awkwardly, turning back to the more friendly faces in the Cortex. "Did you know, on my Earth, coffee crop was wiped out by blight? I mean, that's one more reason to stay on this Earth, for the coffee alone."

Hartley rolled his eyes and snapped his laptop shut audibly. "If you stay." He commented, picking up his laptop and brushing roughly past HR to leave the Cortex.

"Hartley-" Caitlin called but Hartley interrupted her without turning back or stopping.

"I'm not going far. Unfortunately."

Caitlin sighed and exchanged a look with Cisco.

"He's going to your workshop," she said at the same time as Cisco said, "he's going to my workshop." with a sort of tired, indignant exasperation.

Barry wasn't sure why, but he followed.

"Hartley!"

Hartley didn't stop or even slow, as though he hadn't heard Barry at all. Barry persisted, following him until he arrived in the workshop and abruptly turned to face Barry, surveying him critically. Barry felt briefly that Hartley could see straight through him.

After several moments, Hartley spoke.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, eyes narrowing before bluntly adding, "I tried to kill you."

Barry tried not to look startled by the proclamation. "I-"

"You don't remember that, do you? Just like you didn't remember HR. Just like you don't remember that I loathe you." Hartley scoffed, continuing further into the room to set up his laptop on a workbench. "We're not friends, Flash. I'm not interested in rekindling whatever camaraderie you remember us having before you fucked everyone over."

Barry tried not to flinch at the harsh rebuff.

"I don't-" Barry hedged but Hartley interrupted.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Allen. You changed the timeline. I may have no idea what exactly you changed for me but I'm certain my circumstances can't have been worse." Hartley turned, sitting on the nearest stool and opening his laptop again. 

Barry wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't defend himself, Hartley was right. He had fucked everyone over. He fidgeted in place, rubbing his palms together as he tried to come up with a passable explanation.

"I...look, Hartley-"

"Save it. You're going to need to work on your acting skills before I'll consider accepting an apology. I doubt you even know what you'd be apologizing for," Hartley said flatly, staring Barry down through his glasses.

Barry blinked, opened his mouth, and then closed it again, throat locked tight around the words. Hartley returned his attention to his work, waving his hand as though swatting away a fly.

"Shoo, Flash."

Barry didn't know what else to do, so he left.

Chapter Text

A shrill giggle echoed down the hall - the only warning before a tiny figure hurtled into Barry's shins.

A little girl with auburn curls looked up at him with the widest brown eyes before she grinned, reaching up towards him. "Fast! Fast!"

"Fast?" Barry echoed. Where had this kid come from?

"Fast!" She repeated, stomping her feet impatiently, making the snowflakes around Anna and Elsa from Disney's Frozen light up in flashes of blue and purple.

Barry obediently bent to pick her up when she reached for him again, his head spinning in bewildered circles. The little girl let out another pealing laugh, clutching his shirt in her little fists. "Go fast!"

"I don't know about that..."

"Fast! Fast! Fast!" She insisted, tiny hands hitting his shoulders when he didn't immediately start running.

"There you are, you little monster!"

Barry couldn't do anything but stare as Ronnie Raymond rounded the corner, alive and well, and held out his hands for the little girl, who let out another shrill giggle and buried her face in his shirt.

"Hey, Barry." He greeted warmly, oblivious to Barry's bewilderment. "Come on, Mags, it's way past your naptime."

"No nap!" she argued. "Maggie go! Go fast!"

"Maggie can go fast after nap, now come on. Mommy's got your Olaf blanket and a sippy with chocolate milk," he coaxed.

Maggie's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Anna sippy?"

Ronnie winced. "Well, no, but I have your Elsa sippy."

Maggie snuggled closer, apparently mollified by this answer. She pointed an imperious finger at Barry and said, "we fast soon."

Barry nodded, still mystified as Ronnie carried Maggie to the Cortex.

He cast around for any explanation and found blessed relief when Cisco rounded the corner, balancing a stack of boxes in his arms. Barry managed to steady the top box before it could tumble and spill its contents across the floor.

"Thanks, but I totally had that," Cisco joked. He paused, brow furrowing as he looked Barry over. "You alright, dude? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I...uh...Did you see Ronnie leaving just now?"

"Yeah he's been chasing Maggie down for like an hour, glad he finally caught her. Pretty sure she was eyeing my workshop and those are not kid-friendly toys."

"And Ronnie is...okay?" 

"I mean, he's had like seven cups of coffee, but so has HR, so define okay."

Barry wanted to sag down into a chair and cradle his head in his hands. This was all too surreal. Ronnie, alive? Ronnie with a child? Did that mean Caitlin had gotten married and had kids in this timeline? What had he altered to make that happen? What else might be different?

Cisco set the boxes onto a work table, a frown creasing his face. "You feeling okay, dude? You don't look so good."

"I feel a little dizzy."

"Come on, let's get you a protein bar, you're probably low on blood sugar again. You've gotta take better care of yourself, dude," Cisco commented, patting his shoulder.

"Right," Barry said faintly.

"So how'd the suit fitting go?" Cisco asked, lifting a tangled mass of wires from one of the boxes. Barry couldn't imagine how he'd begin to unspool them, let alone turn them into something useful.

"Suit fitting?" Barry echoed. He was beginning to feel like a trained bird, parroting back whatever was said to him.

"For Eddie and Iris' wedding. You're standing up with her, right, Mr. Best Man?"

"Right, yeah. Yeah, it was - it was good. Went good," Barry said, his brain struggling to keep up as he processed all the changes that kept smacking him in the face. Eddie and Iris were still engaged? Eddie was alive? That was...great! Wasn't it?

Barry mentally chided himself. Eddie was his friend! Of course it was great! Eddie hadn’t died - hadn’t shot himself in front of Iris to save Barry.

Cisco set the bundle of wires down, his frown deepening. "You sure you're okay? You're acting weird." 

"Fine," Barry lied. He couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut, though. Nor could he completely banish the sense of guilt that came along with it. Eddie was alive. Iris was getting her happily ever after with the man she loved.

But that man wasn't him. And it was his own damn fault.

Chapter Text

4 years prior

The time remnant wasn't healing. Not fully, anyway.

His speed came in irregular bursts, sometimes seeming normal, sometimes fizzling out like he'd never been the Flash in the first place. Lightning still spidered through the right side of his face, cruel and constant, crawling just beneath the skin like static made sentient. Sometimes, when the pain crested too sharply he clawed at it, desperate and furious, and the skin would slough off in streaks where he touched it in wet, red ribbons. It didn't matter. The wound didn't close. Wouldn't close.

Whatever the Wraith had done to him was irreversible. And it was his fault.

Not the time remnant's fault, the original's. Barry, the ungrateful bastard, who'd tossed aside their purpose to chase ghosts. Barry had left him like this. The Time Wraith had just compounded the gruesome fate that his double had condemned him to.

If he was so willing to throw it all away, he should have been the one paying the price. Let him rot in his own skin. Let him feel what it was like to be cast aside. 

Instead, he wandered where Barry should have, agony in every breath.

The time remnant still wasn't sure what part of time he'd landed in but he could identify the country now. India, somehow. Where in India he couldn't say, geography wasn't his best subject. All he knew to do was put one foot in front of the other, staggering through dirt and dust until the pull became impossible to ignore. The pulse in his chest matched a rhythm thrumming beneath the ground, ancient and inexorable. The answer was close. So close.

He stopped just outside what seemed to be a camp or maybe an archaeological dig, headed by a very pale, very British man - Dr. Julian Albert, according to the notebook on his desk. The remnant watched him for a stretch of heartbeats - how many he wasn't sure. He watched the man's gentle smile as he penned a letter home. Watched and waited as a dark-haired woman entered the tent, murmuring something so low he couldn't make it out. He shambled like a revenant after them when they disappeared into a stone chasm.

A glow beyond beckoned. A promise of salvation. He tried to run. Fell. Clawed his way forward on hands and knees, scuttling like a bug in the dirt. He didn't care. He had to get to that light. To the power. To-

The Speed Force. 

Yes, he could feel that now. It was the Speed Force itself calling to him. He could sense the crackle of lightning in the air, feel its mere presence reviving the power in his veins.

He smelled ozone before he heard the screaming.

The cavern erupted with light. The Brahmastra - the fragment of calcified Speed Force energy that had summoned him - had been pulled from its resting place, its power too violent to be contained. Bolts of lightning leapt from it, spearing through every member of the dig team. Their bodies convulsed, flesh blistering in an instant. One toppled. Then another. And another.

By the time the remnant stumbled into the chamber, most lay scattered on the stone floor, charred figures that would crumble at the slightest touch. Only Julian still stood - white-knuckled, trembling, the artifact blazing in his grip.

"No..." Julian whispered. "Oh God, no...they're all dead." His wide eyes fixed on the remnant and he paled beyond what the remnant thought possible. The moment stretched, achingly slow. "You. You did this."

The remnant sucked in a startled breath. "No-"

"You're him," Julian choked out. "The god they wrote about. The guardian. Savitar."

Savitar. The remnant opened his mouth to correct him and paused - he wasn't anyone else anymore, was he? Savitar felt as much his name as Barry now.

Julian staggered back a step, clutching the stone as though it might protect him. His face twisted - fear, disbelief, grief, anger all warring together. "I led them here. I promised them discovery. And now-" His voice cracked before hardening into venom. "Now they're ashes at your feet. They'll say it was me. That I killed them. That I murdered them for this-" he shook the stone at the remnant, his voice rising in panic. "-this damned thing! And maybe they'll be right, because I opened it, didn't I? I brought them here."

"I'm not your enemy." Savitar said, lifting his hands and taking a step toward the light.

Julian scrambled back further, a harsh, humorless laugh scraping from his throat. "Not my enemy? You slaughtered my team. You expect me to believe you won't kill me too?"

Savitar stopped short of approaching him, not wanting to scare him off. He needed that stone, he wasn't even certain he could catch the man now without it.

"Why did you want the stone so badly?" Savitar asked.

Julian's breath came sharp and uneven, the stone's light painting his face in trembling strokes of pale blue. For a moment he only stared at Savitar, wild-eyed, like a cornered animal. Then his jaw clenched, his grief breaking through the terror.

"My sister. Emma. She hasn't got a year left, maybe not even months, and I-"

He choked, fury and anguish tangling in his throat as he ran a hand anxiously through his disheveled blond hair. "We've tried everything. Every treatment. Every specialist. And none of it has done a damn thing for her except put her through hell."

"It can heal her?" Savitar asked.

"It has to," Julian snapped. "It's the only option left."

The cavern fell into a tense silence, broken only by the electric hum of the Brahmastra between them.

It wasn't confirmation the stone could fix him but, Savitar reasoned, it was enough that both he and Julian seemed to believe it could.

"If you can't control it, she could end up like them." Savitar warned, gesturing to the corpses littering the cavern. Julian looked stricken, the thought clearly not having occurred to him. "Give it back to me and I'll help you."

Julian's grip on the stone trembled but remained firm. "I don't trust you."

Savitar grit his teeth, starting to feel desperate. "Are you willing to risk her life over it?"

Julian shifted foot to foot, looking away for a moment, chewing on the answer.

"I'll help you." Savitar repeated. "I swear."

Another beat passed and Savitar held his breath.

"Fine," Julian said finally, holding the stone out for Savitar to take. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice."