Chapter Text
The only sound is the sounds of the storm- the crash of thunder and lightning, the howling of the wind and the constant thrum of rain, occasionally punctuated by the groan of metal and concrete as a building finally comes tumbling down, distant destruction echoing through the fog like the growls of an unseen beast.
Barry sits on the edge of the bridge spanning the river, legs swinging idly as the bridge sways from side to side over floodwaters choked with corpses, cables straining against the unrelenting force of wind and rain.
The storm leaves them seemingly untouched, aside from a light patter of rain on their skin and clothes, slowly soaking them to the bone and dripping through their lightning-clogged arteries.
Let us out. Let us hunt, the storm whispers, the breeze whistling over their clothes and skin and mussing their hair. You know you want to.
"No." Barry says sweetly, blood and rain dripping from their tongue. "Not now."
You will, the wind insists, rain pounding against their skin. You cannot deny your heart.
"Of course." Barry promises. "But not now."
Play with us? the wind pleads.
"That, I can do." Barry grins, and steadies their grip on the concrete below them, pushing themself onto their feet.
They leap and fall, gales spiraling around them and the fog reaching up to swallow them as they plunge into the bloodied waters.
They laugh and laugh, as salty, metallic water fills their lungs and the current bloodies them on sharp rocks and fallen steel beams, until their flesh becomes just one more body in the tide carried by the storm.
They don't need it. They are the storm, not just the stormwalker.
The lightning is their claws and teeth, the clouds their flesh, the wind their voice, the thunder their heartbeat and the rain their blood and tears.
Come morning, the sun will rise and their flesh will wake. But for now, they’re free to play.
The wind howls its victory, Barry calls out in delight, and Central City comes tumbling down.
Barry wakes with a start, sleep-stiff joints popping as they stretch out their limbs, the room a haze of shadows in the early morning dark.
Hal is still tucked against Barry’s side, breathing slow and sleepy, skin warm against Barry’s skin. They shift and groan softly as Barry wakes, not quite yet awake themself.
Barry gently pushes Hal off their chest and slips out of bed, shivering slightly in the cold air outside the warm confines of their blankets.
They pick out a warm woolen turtleneck and fleece-lined pants, dress themself, then make their way downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.
Humming, Barry selects a cereal box at random, finds a bowl and pours several handfuls of cereal into it. It won’t truly sate the hunger curling in their soul, no matter how much they wish it did, but their body still needs calories like any other human.
Meal obtained, they settle down at the dining table to eat. The cereal is sugary, crunchy and vaguely fruit-flavored- though nowhere near the taste of actual fruit, just whatever chemicals they put in allegedly fruit-flavored medicine that doesn’t taste at all like whatever they claim to be.
Two minutes later, Hal walks down the stairs and flicks on a light. Barry cringes at the stinging brightness piercing through their eyelids, a pained noise rattling in their throat as their eyes struggle to adjust.
Hal sighs amusedly. “Barry, are you eating dry cereal in the dark again? He/him, by the way.”
Barry makes an agreeing noise and shoves another handful of dry cereal into their mouth.
There’s a few squeaks as Hal pulls up a chair across from Barry and sets his elbows down on the tabletop. ”You know you can get milk from the fridge, right? We have milk, I bought some yesterday.”
“The fridge has lights on the inside.” Barry informs Hal, through a mouthful of cereal. “It’s bright. And then I’d have to get a spoon. Not worth it.”
Hal chuckles and gently clasps Barry’s hand in his. “Of course. Never change, Barry.”
Barry squeezes Hal’s hand back. “How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty good. Only good dreams.” Hal pauses. “I don’t know why you always ask. Like… just because we both had a few bad nightmares a week ago doesn’t mean you have to constantly ask after me, or feel personally responsible.”
Barry flinches. They’ve never wanted to hurt Hal, never wanted to betray the only person who truly loves them enough to stay by their side, but they have, and Hal would hate them, if they knew Barry was the reason for those sleepless nights of terror.
(Of course, the only guranteed way to stop the Storm from hurting Hal in his dreams would be to stay several miles away from him while he sleeps at all times, and it would be just as cruel to leave Hal and never tell him why.)
“…That wasn’t meant to be anything bad! I’m not mad at you!” Hal hurriedly corrects. “I love you, Barry, and I appreciate how much you care for me…”
“I know.” Barry says, and tries not to think about how right it felt, if only in the dream.
They can still taste the blood and tears mingling with the rain, feel the alien triumph rising as Hal scrambled to find Barry in the midst of an unyielding storm that systematically rips away shelter and breaks down hope.
The Storm is their heart and their soul, and it cannot be denied. Yet, no matter how much they plead with it, they can’t stop themself from hurting the only one who loves them back.
(Hal didn’t stop for more than a moment for any of their belongings- not their documents, not their money, not his collection of models carefully collected over decades. He only looked for Barry and never stopped looking until he physically couldn’t stay conscious anymore, and that only makes the memory hurt even more.)
They’re crying, they realize, and the taste of tears is actually on their tongue.
Hal pauses, then lifts a hand to wipe away their tears, gentle and feather-light against Barry’s cheeks. “…It’s okay, it’s okay, Bear. We can get through this together. Whatever it is.”
Barry pulls away, wrapping their arms around themself and tucking their head to their chest. Their nails dig into the skin of their shoulders, pressing until they can feel a prickle of all-too-human pain.
They choke on their sobs, hardly daring to breathe through the hysteria. Hal murmurs soothing words into their ear that they barely hear.
The wind sings a soothing melody and the waves lap gainst Barry’s legs, and Barry just sobs harder because as much as their Horror wants to comfort them, an uncaring force of nature can never really understand why Barry hates it for being itself.
Eventually, they manage to get their breathing under control, and their tears slowly start to dry up.
Their head is pounding with a dull pain, and their clothes are soaked through with uncomfortably sticky tears- but they can breathe, and now they just feel exhausted instead of hysterical.
Hal’s hand settles gently on Barry’s shoulder. “You with me now, Bear?”
“I… I think so.” Barry manages.
“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” Hal asks, a trace of worry in his voice. “You don’t have to.”
“…No. I don’t.” Barry says quietly, hands folded in their lap. “I’m fine now, anyway.”
“Alright, Bear.” Hal exhales slowly. “Just tell me if you need anything.”
“I will.” Barry promises, leaning into Hal’s touch.
There’s a familiar chime from Hal’s pocket, and Hal sighs and pulls his hand away. Barry’s heart sinks- why does the RCMP have to call now?
“Hello? Now’s kind of a bad time, just so you’re aware… No, no one’s hurt, there’s just some personal stuff… How urgent is it?… Are you kidding me?! Saskatchewan?!… Well, if HQ says so, I guess I have to go… Do you really need me in specific?… Fine, I’ll be there, no promises I’ll stay after the briefing… I know, see you in ten.” Hal hangs up and sighs. “I’m really sorry about this, Barry, but I just got called in.”
“It’s a Saturday!” Barry pleads, unable to hide the desperation in their voice. “Can’t they send someone else?”
“All hands on deck, sorry.” Hal apologizes. “Let’s just hope I can convince my boss to let me come back. If not, I’ll try and get someone to check on you.”
Barry takes a deep breath. “It’s not fair.”
“I know. It really isn’t.” Hal squeezes Barry’s hand one last time, then lets go and starts walking towards the door. “I’m sorry. Be back soon, kay?”
A few seconds later, the front door slams shut and locks and Barry’s left alone in a silent house.
They feel for their bowl and shove another handful of cereal in their mouth. It’s far too sweet, and the fruit flavoring is now actively disgusting, but it’s food, and anything’s better than confronting how much of a monster they are.
Tears threaten to well up again, and Barry forces them down. They’re an independent adult, they shouldn’t be so broken up by Hal having to leave at an inconvenient time. It happens all of the time, it’s no big deal. Especially when Hal’s saving lives.
Footsteps creep over the linoleum, and a hand lands on Barry’s shoulder. Barry didn’t notice Wally coming down the stairs, but it’s still a relief to have someone.
“Mom, are you okay?” Wally asks, worry trembling in his voice.
“No.” Barry admits. “I’m not.”
Wally shuffles one foot. “Where’s Dad?”
“Hal got a call from the RCMP.” Barry says. “He’s out. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“Of course. Universe really likes to pick the worst time for emergencies to happen, huh?” Wally says, and he sounds so much like Eobard in that moment that Barry just ends up hysterically sobbing again.
Eobard loved them. Eobard still loves them. Eobard would take them back, even with Hal still around, even after they left, took their four-year-old son and threatened to call the police, even when they’re the reason Wally doesn’t remember xem, even nine years later.
Even after all this time, even after everything Barry has done to them, if they chose to come back, all Eobard would do is take their hand and tell them how happy xe was that Barry had finally learned to embrace their true self.
Barry still can’t unhear the screams, can’t escape the phantom sensation of rotting flesh under their hands, can’t escape their own nature, can’t escape the realization that Eobard is a worse monster than they would ever willingly be.
They can’t tell Wally that, though. Wally doesn’t remember Eobard, and it’s better that way. It’s better if they can leave their past behind and just look to the future and live in the moment.
Wally gently strokes their back, and they lean into the touch and try to still their breathing, even as the guilt wells up even stronger.
Wally’s only thirteen. He shouldn’t be in charge of keeping his mother from spiraling. He doesn’t deserve to be burdened with Barry’s problems. He’s a kid, and his biggest problems should be his test grades and petty classroom politics, not Barry being a guilt-ridden wreck.
“I’m sorry, Wally.” Barry whispers through tear-choked sobs. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“No, Mom, it’s okay. Everyone has bad days, right?” Wally says, voice still a little wobbly. “I love you. I’d never just leave you when I can help.”
“Oh, Wally…” Barry takes a deep breath. “Can you get me some tissues?”
“Of course.” Wally slips away, and Barry shoves down a sudden wave of terror- Wally’s only going to be gone for a few seconds, not forever.
Wally’s back as soon as he can, pressing the box into Barry’s hands. They run their hands over the surface, trying to locate the opening, and find nothing but perforations on the top of a brand-new box.
Gritting their teeth in annoyance, they rip the top of the box off, part of the side coming with it, and yank a rough, torn handful of tissue from inside.
Barry feels a little better once their tears are dry- they’ll deal with the broken box later.
“Thanks, Wally.” they murmur. “Why don’t you get some breakfast while I go take a shower?”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know for sure you’re okay and you’re not just going to let yourself drown.” Wally replies, matter-of-factly. “Literally or metaphorically.”
“You’re thirteen.” Barry points out. “I’m your mother.”
“Well, are you going to drown yourself again?” Wally asks pointedly. “I’ve found you unconscious in the bathtub with your head underwater at least twice. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re alive.”
Barry can’t drown- not even in the waking world. They’re perfectly safe sleeping underwater, and it’s comforting in a way that makes their Horror purr under their skin.
Except, Wally doesn’t know that- no one except for Barry knows that- and a human doing that would definitely be drowning.
(Eobard might have been able to guess from seeing them in their Lair, but Barry’s never confirmed it definitely, and xe’s stayed on xer side of the partition between their Lairs ever since Barry told them they never wanted to see xem again.)
“I’m sorry…” Barry whispers. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”
“Mom. Do not beat yourself up because I love you too much to let you die.” Wally snaps. “I’m thirteen, not three, and you do not need to pretend everything is fine for my sake, when I can tell you’re absolutely not fine.”
Barry doesn’t really have anything to say to that. “…I’ll just get a wet washcloth and wipe my face down then.”
“Do that. I can eat and watch you at the same time.” With that, Wally walks over to the fridge and yanks it open. “Let me know if you want anything.”
Barry forces themself to stand up and make their way over to the kitchen sink. They grab a microfiber washcloth from the drawer and soak it in water, then flop it over their face.
They stand there for a moment, cold, refreshing freshwater dripping down their face and onto their shirt, not quite knowing what else to do.
The doorbell rings, and Barry startles a few steps forward, barely managing to catch themself before they walk into the kitchen counter.
"I’ll get it!” Barry calls, and practically sprints over to the front door.
“Who is this?” they ask, cautiously pressing their ear up to the wood.
“It’s John. Hal’s coworker.” a familiar, deep voice on the other side states. “Can you let me in?”
“Why isn’t Hal here?” Barry asks, a tremor of nervousness rising in their throat.
“Oh, he’s fine, don’t worry.” John assures. “He’s just out of town, looking into a lead, and he asked me to check on you and see how you were holding up. Can you let me in? I want to see you.”
Barry takes a deep breath, unlocks the door and pulls it open, making sure to stand behind it the whole time.
John steps inside and closes the door behind him, cane clicking on the hardwood flooring.
There’s a pause, before John speaks again, now audibly concerned. “Barry, have you been crying?”
“…Yeah.” Barry whispers. “I’m basically fine now, don’t worry.”
“They’re not.” Wally calls, accompanied by the sound of paper shuffling. “Do you mind driving Mom to work? I don’t think they’re really up for taking the bus right now, and our car’s still out of action after you borrowed it and it ended up totaled.”
“Right, yeah, that.” John sighs. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I wasn’t expecting to get charged all of a sudden.”
“I know, hazards of the job and all that.” Barry can practically hear Wally’s eyeroll. “I still don’t get why you won’t let me come with you guys. It’s not like you even have to take me out on the big stuff, I just wanna learn more than basic self-defense!”
“Wally, you’re thirteen, Hal’s hard vetoed it until you’re eighteen, and I’m not your parent, he is. I doubt Barry would let you, either.” John’s fingernails audibly tap against the metal part of his cane. “Also, physical therapy and disability aids are expensive, and I’m not going to be the one telling Hal that his only son is on the way to the morgue because he got in over his head.”
…Why did no one tell Barry about this? Even if Wally didn’t want to tell them, surely Hal would have brought this sort of thing up before, right? Hal trusts them, right? Doesn’t he?
“Wally, I agree with John.” Barry cuts in. “This is the first time I’m hearing about this- and trust me, John, we are going to have a talk about that later- but I do not want to attend your funeral. Any job where serious injury or death is a regular job hazard is not one I want you to have. Especially not at 13.”
“…Hal didn’t tell you?” John actually sounds surprised. “I would have thought he’d tell you.”
“He didn’t.” Barry grimaces. “How much is he hiding from me?”
John sighs. “That’s a conversation you’ll have to have with Hal. Rest assured, I’m going to have a talk with him too. Secrets get people killed in our line of work.”
“Barry, if it helps, he didn’t want me to know either.” Wally cuts in. “And he told me not to tell you anything.”
“…About what? What is he not telling me?" Barry feels hysterical tears welling up again, and shoves them down. Having another panic attack isn’t going to solve anything. “I’m not helpless! I’m a grown adult! He can trust me with things! What is he even doing for the RCMP that requires this much secrecy?”
“…I’ll just call Hal.” John says, a dangerous note in his voice. “Give me a minute.”
“Don’t let him know he’s on speaker unless we want to talk to him.” Wally advises. “If he thinks he’s just talking to you he won’t lie.”
“Wally!” Barry hisses. “Don’t be rude!”
John clears his throat. “No, Wally’s right. If he thinks it’s just a private call, he won’t self-censor.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials up a call. It takes a few seconds for Hal to pick up.
“John? Why are you calling me? Are Barry and Wally okay?” Hal asks, audibly worried. “Did anything happen?”
“Nothing happened. Barry just wants to know how much you’ve been hiding from them.”
Hal’s silent for a long while. “…Nothing that I didn’t need to.” he says, and Barry’s heart breaks a little at the confirmation.
“Do they even know about the Corps?” John asks pointedly. “Do they even know why you’re going out? Do they even know how you lost your leg?”
“…I told Barry I work for the RCMP. It’s true, even.” Hal grits out. “My family doesn’t need to know about the GLC. They’re not part of this.”
“Hal, of all of the irresponsible shit you’ve pulled, I think this is this biggest one yet.” John hisses. “I thought you were just using code because phone signals are tracable. I didn’t know that you were lying to Barry about every hunt you’ve ever gone on.”
“I’m just trying to keep them safe! I’m just trying to keep Wally safe!” Hal protests, and Barry finally loses it.
They walk over to John and hold their hand out. “Phone. Now.”
“I hope you’re absolutely sure you’re doing the right thing, because Barry heard all of that, and they look pissed.” John says, pressing his phone into Barry’s hand.
“You lied to me, Hal!” Barry shouts. “You lied to me about everything! I trusted you!”
“I-” Hal starts, and Barry doesn’t give him time to finish.
“I don’t care if just you wanted to keep me safe! I’m tired of people trying to keep me safe! Sick and tired of people thinking that I need to be protected even when I don’t!” Barry hisses. “I can handle myself! I’m a grown adult! You don’t get to make these decisions for me! I’m blind, not three!”
“Barry-”
“Give me a very good reason why I should still trust you, Hal.”
“…I’m sorry, okay?” Hal sounds nearly on the verge of tears. “I… I’m sorry. It’s just… I got off my first hunt, saw my first person killed entirely because the things that lurk in the dark don’t want to be seen… and when I came home… the only thing I could think of was that I never wanted to see you become a target. Not if I could prevent it. Not if I could keep the monsters from knowing you know they exist. I’d rather die than see you or Wally hurt.”
Barry takes a deep breath. “Maybe that was your thought process. I can understand that. But you do understand why I’m mad, right? You do understand why I’d take it worse than Wally did?”
Hal exhales. “Yeah. Yeah I do. I understand if you never want to talk to me again-”
“No!” Barry shouts, a bit too loud. They take a deep breath, and their next words come out as a whisper. "I… don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone again, Hal.”
“…I won’t.” Hal promises. “I’m sorry, Barry. You deserve better than this from me. You deserve better, period.”
Barry pauses. “…What are you even trying to protect me from?”
“Monsters.” Hal says, a false casual note in his voice. “Not like metaphorical human ones. Supernatural ones. The sort of ones that people like to insist aren’t real, until they get bitten. Those ones.”
Barry takes a deep breath and forces down a panic attack. Hal doesn’t know. Hal can’t know, if Barry’s still alive by now. Even if he did find out, it would objectively be for the best.
“…Did you actually get bitten by a snake, or was that a cover story for something supernatural?” Barry says eventually, voice shaking. “Because I really feel like you should have told me after you lost an entire limb.”
“Yes, I did get bitten by a snake. Only thing was that it was a fifteen-foot-long snake-spirit, and the reason the antivenom didn’t work is because a snake-spirit’s venom isn’t an actual chemical, just a pop culture poison trope, and the spirit was powerful enough that all it did was slow down the poison’s progress.” Hal pauses. “I may have omitted some details but you still got the gist- bitten by snake in the field, had to do a field amputation because the antivenom we had on hand was for the wrong kind of snake and it was an exotic import, we were fighting the snake’s owners at the time, and it was the only way to save my life.”
Barry takes a deep breath. “Why were you even fighting a snake-spirit?”
“The snake’s owners were goddamn werewolves, and that mission was already fucked five ways to Friday by the time their pet snake showed up.” Hal sighs. “I’m not sure how it was solid without a host, but I blame the same werewolf nonsense that let that one guy turn a cigarette lighter into a flamethrower. Frankly, I’m just happy we all got out of there alive, and a rival wolf pack showed up just in time to bail us out.”
…Well, that’s an awful coincidence, that Hal was hunting werewolves a week after a werewolf from the Fire-Touched showed up on Barry’s doorstep to try and sell them on his cult while Hal was out.
Barry’s pretty sure he thought Barry was a newly Changed werewolf or a Wolf-Blooded, at least until Barry punched him down the street.
"…Hal, if you really wanted to protect me from the monsters, you should have told me what I was dealing with before one of them showed up on my doorstep to try and sell me on their three-step plan to guranteed salvation in the hereafter once Bitch Luna is slain by the inheritors of Father Wolf.”
Hal inhales sharply. “Barry, why did I not hear about this?! When was this?”
Barry winces. They might have miscalculated. “…A week before you lost your leg. Don’t worry, I was fine. I picked out silver-plated gold for our wedding rings for a reason.”
In truth, the wedding ring didn’t have much to do with it as much as Barry’s ability to manifest the Storm in reality just enough that what looks like a clumsy punch from an amateur who can’t see who they’re fighting unexpectedly lands with the force of a chunk of debris blown by hurricane-force winds and sends a full-grown man flying two meters down the road.
Unlike Hal, Barry has a very good and truly life-or-death reason for hiding their true nature, so they’re just going to leave that out.
John chooses that moment to cut in. Barry had honestly forgotten he was there. “…Barry, did you already know about the supernatural?”
Barry turns their head in the direction of his voice and takes a deep breath. “Yes, I did.”
“…Oh.” Hal whispers, sounding broken. “Dang, I screwed up worse than I thought. How much do you know?”
“Was the pack with the snake spirit as pack totem entirely Fire-Touched, or did they have Predator Kings or Ivory Claws among their number?” Barry asks, tilting their head.
“…I have never heard like four of those terms.” Hal says. “John, what about you?”
“Barry’s either talking out of their ass- unlikely, you wouldn’t marry someone who makes up clearly unbelievable false stories like that- or they know more about werewolves than we do.” John confirms. “Which… makes me wonder how much they’ve interacted with it before, and never told us because they thought you didn’t know.”
“…Hold up, I’ve got to move the rental car. Be back.” With that, Hal hangs up.
Barry hands John’s phone back, and only remembers they haven’t had time to put their watch on when they try to check the time and their fingers brush against bare skin instead of silicone and metal.
“It’s 8:58.” John informs them. “When do you need to be at work?”
“…9:30.” Barry huffs. “Usually I’d be on the bus by now, so we should probably go now. Just let me get my purse, cane and watch first.”
“Alright. Address still the same?” John asks.
“Should be.” Barry sighs. “…After I find everything.”