You're always making me go and get you stuff. I'm not an intern.
[ At least this way, if Harry detects any hostility under the deliberately glib tone, he'll think it's coming from somewhere else. And it's not as if it isn't the truth. Harry is always telling him to hand him this or that, to carry things for him, to fetch. Half the time he didn't even bother asking, just gestured and grunted and waited for Cisco to read his mind. He certainly never said please. Even though most of the time Cisco didn't mind, right now he is in that particular state of anxious sensitivity where even the slightest thing has the potential to twist the knot in his stomach even tighter. ]
You do it and I'll take a turn under there. I told you we should switch ten minutes ago.
[ Harry is staring at him from the floor and Cisco looks long enough to see the lifted brow, but he can't force himself to keep his eyes on Harry's face for more than a moment or two. He turns his back so that fact is less obvious, pretending to look over the schematics laid out on the long table again, though his eyes are unfocused as he lifts the pages. ]
[ At that, he gestures from the machine to himself and then to Cisco. ]
Is working together. It makes more sense to have you processing the data on the laptop — the laptop with the program — while I make the necessary adjustments here. I already know what has and hasn't been fine tuned, it doesn't make sense to switch off now.
[ Harrison huffs. It should be obvious, shouldn't it? Of course Ramon is better at analyzing the data and directing him on adjustments. There's no need for them to suddenly switch it up or for him to stop what he's doing, pull himself up from the creeper, wash his hands and make his way down to the basement, not when it would easily take Cisco half the time. Besides— ]
And I'm not— always making you get me things.
[ He waves a wrench in Cisco's direction, even though his back is turned. That . . . truth be told, wasn't something he was entirely sure of, come to think of it. And that thought is enough to distract him from scrutinizing Cisco's behavior any further for the time being. ]
[ The pretense of him just joking or teasing has officially disappeared, and the word comes out a petulant snap. There's no way out of it. There's no way around Harry's logic, no way to say no without explaining the whole ugly terrible thing, and even if he wanted to do that (he doesn't), Cisco isn't sure he would know how to. So instead he relents, gives up, and goes stalking out the door in the direction of the elevator. Part of him is glad that no one else seems to be around - no need to put on a show for anyone. But another part of him could swear that he can feel the emptiness of the building around him, his own isolation within it.
When the doors open to the basement, Cisco almost stays in the elevator. He contemplates slinking back to his (their) apartment and texting Harry some bullshit about a headache... but that would be stupid. He's being stupid right now. This isn't how it's supposed to work. Things had been bad at first, and then time had passed and now things are better, so it shouldn't bother him any more. That's how it goes. He's over this.
At least the laptop is sitting out on the desk, and Cisco only has to walk a few steps, grab it, and then he can be out again. But by the time he's got it unplugged and in his arms and he's turned around, the elevator doors have shut, and he has to press the button and wait for them to open again. It feels like it takes an eternity, and the whole time he is thinking don't vibe, don't vibe, don't you dare vibe....
Which was probably a mistake, because as soon as the elevator doors open, Cisco steps inside, hits the button for the right floor, and promptly feels the floor beneath him falling away, even though all he should feel is the elevator moving up. It's not the vibe that he was expecting - the old familiar one, its edges worn soft from repeated remembering. This is something new; in the past, when he has vibed the original timeline, it has been all form his perspective: what he'd seen, what he'd heard, what he'd felt. This time, however, he vibes something he hadn't seen. The vibe starts just in time to see himself crumple to the floor. Then, after no longer than three seconds of stony-faced contemplation, Eobard turns, strolls back to the elevator with his hands in his pockets. As the doors close, Cisco tears himself from the vibe, breathing hard.
He hadn't known before that Dr. Wells had just.... left him there, on the ground. Like a pile of mess that he would clean up later, when he had the time. Like he was a thing, not a person.
Cisco winces against the pain of the interrupted vibe, wondering why of all things his foot hurts, until he realizes the laptop is sitting on the floor of the elevator. He'd dropped it. Cisco picks it up, winces when he spots a very noticeable crack in the casing, but when he opens it, propping it on one arm, it seems to be running fine.]
Here.
[ Cisco says it dully, too distracted to remember his animosity from a minute or two ago, just as he is too distracted to notice that he is bleeding from the nose, just a little. He lays the laptop on the ground near to Harry's feet and then sits in (or collapses on) one of the desk chairs, thinking hard. This going about his day like nothing going on is untenable. He should go somewhere tomorrow. Somewhere out of town, just for the day. Somewhere he's never been before where no one knows him, where he can be alone and not talk to anyone and not have to put up a front. ]
[ The dull response is the only thing that keeps him from making some sort of caustic remark. Though Harrison had rolled his eyes thoroughly at Cisco's snippy parting remarks a few minutes prior and was contemplating several ways to rib him about just how long he was taking to do the simplest of errands, the lackluster response seems to be more than enough. He wheels himself out from under the machine again, frowning over at the laptop. Was that crack always there . . . ? And, what, did Ramon expect him to continue making the calibrations underneath the machine while operating the laptop at the same time? With a scowl, Harrison turns his head towards Cisco, mouth opening as he's ready to snipe again.
Any sound that might have come out dies in his throat though, and he quickly purses his lips. The telltale sign of blood dribbling down from his nose is enough to derail his thought process entirely.
Emotions aren't his forte, which is the understatement of the century when it comes to Harrison Wells. They tend not manifest as visibly for him as they do for others. So while the pit in his stomach suddenly opens up wide and a sort of panic immediately grips at his heart, leaving an ache in his chest, he appears to be stone-faced as he sits up mechanically. Harrison sets the laptop to the side and then reaches over for a rag nearby, wiping the grease from his hands carefully, meticulously — the only sign that he's concerned. "Concerned" — another gross understatement. Visions of him sickly and translucent in bed pass through his head, and the grip around his heart tightens just a bit more.
His eyes flick up to study Cisco quietly for a moment or two, mind racing. Where was Barry, had he done something again? Were there more time remnants lurking about? Why hadn't Cisco said anything, or did he even notice? Harrison pauses and closes his eyes, pushing away everything he can't control (much to his chagrin), attempting to focus on what he can.
Cisco. Right.
Harrison pushes himself up and wanders over to the sink, washing his hands methodically. He dries them off, then grabs a few tissues from a box near the sink. Quietly, he pulls a chair over next to Cisco's and settles into it, holding the tissues out to him silently. ]
[ Cisco isn't looking at Harry; he sees him getting up, in the corner of his vision, hears the sink run as he washes his hands. But in his distracted state, he assumes that Harry is just washing his hands so that he can use the laptop without getting it dirty. If he'd had another minute or two to get his bearings, he would have remembered on his own that he was supposed to be the one doing that.
Closing his eyes, Cisco focuses hard on pushing away the image of Dr. Wells turning his back on his body, so casually, so remorselessly. He doesn't know what he had expected. He hadn't spent much time thinking about the moments after his death. Where had he been going? To get a body bag from the morgue? To start arranging the cover-up? To kill Caitlin, too?
Harry's only a foot or two away when he opens his eyes, scooting a chair towards him and holding out a wad of tissues at him. Cisco stupidly thinks that Harry thinks he's crying, opens his mouth to say that he's fine, feels a wetness against his lips. He lifts a hand and feels the blood, and then the tissues make sense. Cisco takes them from Harry, glancing up at his face for just a split second before his eyes slide away again. ]
Thanks.
[ It takes a huge effort to get his mind moving, to try to haul himself back into the present. Harry's not sniping at him. Harry's also not asking what happened, in that clipped efficient way of his. Harry's totally silent, and that means Harry's worried and doesn't know how to say it, and Harry can't be worried because the last one on Earth Cisco wants to talk about any of this with is Harry. And maybe that's not a great sign, but right now Cisco doesn't care what's a good sign and what isn't. ]
It's really dry down there.
[ Which is, quite possibly, the lamest lie he has ever told in a history of very weak lies. ]
[ It's all telling enough. The way Cisco opens his mouth at seeing the wad of tissues, the way he lifts a hand to his nose, as if noticing the blood for the first time, the way he doesn't even make eye contact with him — it's enough for Harrison to piece some of it together. So much so that when Cisco gives him the weakest lie known to man, Harrison can only murmur back: ]
No. It isn't.
[ He leans back against his seat, studying him quietly. A nosebleed usually means vibes and though Ramon had been getting better with controlling his abilities, including the visions and everything they entailed, he still got them during the more taxing ones — the ones that drained at his powers and his general state of mind. Add to that the fact that he didn't want to go down into the basement before, and it all added up to something . . . well. Something not great centered around that basement. But there were a lot of bad memories littered around the lab.
Harrison had pushed and pushed at Cisco when he first came to this Earth, with a complete disregard for any personal boundaries. As they grew closer, he pulled back on that more and more. Sure, he'd still give Ramon a good kick in the pants when the situation called for it in his mind, but the days of him being a pushy bastard just because had long since passed (though it certainly helped that Jesse was safe and sound on Earth-2). He clasps his hands in his lap, giving Cisco a long look. He could sit there in silence for as long as the both of them wanted, but something tells him that this time, that isn't going to get them anywhere.
Instead, he licks at his lips as he considers his words carefully before he speaks again. There's so much he wants to ask — What happened? Are you okay? Why didn't you tell me the truth? — but that wouldn't get them anywhere and besides, he already knows how Cisco would respond to all three at this point. His eyes flick from the machine and the laptop back over to him, and it's a moment before he finally settles on something. ]
[ Cisco mops the blood from his face and presses the tissues to his nose, waiting for Harry to nod and get up, go back to what he was doing. But he doesn't. He just contradicts what Cisco said and then stares at him. To Cisco, it seems that he is waiting for an apology, or perhaps an explanation. But he'd already tried explaining, and no other lies are presenting themselves at the moment. It would be much easier if Harry would just ignore him. Ignored, he could take his time and put himself back together on his own, the way he is used to doing. He can't do that with Harry's eyes on him - the weight of them tangible even though Cisco keeps his own gaze averted.
It takes Cisco a solid 20 seconds to even remember what it is they were doing that they could be done with for the day. When it sinks in he nods, chewing at his lower lip. But done for the day here means, more likely than not, going back to his apartment together, and that seems like an even worse option. There will be less to distract Harry there from how Cisco is acting, less excuses to keep a distance between them.
He knows it's unfair to Harry, not being able to look at him, not being able to swallow all this down and treat him normally. At the very least, though, if Cisco can't do all that, he isn't going to burden him by breaking down and rambling about Eobard. They had talked about him a very little, that first time Cisco had kissed Harry, and that tiny discussion had been enough to make Harry decide he shouldn't be with Cisco, for Cisco's own sake. If he knew just what an awful tangle Cisco's mind had been this last week, because of stuff from so long ago, would that be enough to have him changing his mind? Would he want to go back to Earth-2 to be with his daughter and away from this damaged guy whose issues weren't worth hurdling? ]
I think I'm gonna drive to Midway.
[ He ought to have given himself a few more minutes to make the excuse more plausible, but Cisco couldn't stand another second of silence and the fuzzy blue of Harry's eyes that he can just barely see. ]
For tomorrow. There's ... a thing. A- concert. I've been meaning to tell you for ages but I kept forgetting. I'll be back the day after tomorrow, though.
[ Cisco gets up, sways ever so slightly. Why did he have to be clumsy and unbalanced, now of all times? ]
We can... we can get back to all this then. Right?
[ While Cisco took a moment to collect himself, Harrison had stood up and walked back over to the laptop on the ground, starting to clean everything up. So when he suddenly announces that he's going to Midway, Harrison's eyes narrow briefly. Because that was a lie if he'd ever heard one. ]
A concert, huh.
[ He straightens up and turns, glancing back over at Cisco dubiously, eyes half-lidded. ]
Who's playing.
[ But he only allows him a moment to respond — if he'd been meaning to tell him, if it had just slipped his mind that he was making this big road trip, wouldn't he know it almost immediately? Harrison isn't expecting a response, though. He already knows there isn't one, that it's a cover for— something. For whatever it is, whatever's going on with him.
He takes a step over as Cisco stands, reaching over to rest a hand on his shoulder briefly, to quietly help steady him before pulling back. It's a moment or two before he murmurs again. ]
If you need to go, just say that.
[ God knows he's needed to do the same. Half of Harrison's road trip to find Jesse had been a desperate need to get out of the lab, to be by himself and have time to think after the fiasco with Zoom and Allen's speed and everything. The others had similar baggage — Allen spent a solid two months away before he'd dragged his feet back in after Zoom had been taken care of. Snow had even taken an impromptu spa weekend after all of that, though Harrison had a sneaking suspicion that Iris West had a hand in that little miracle. Ramon could need the same, feasibly. Honesty would be nice, but he's the last person to harp on and on about honesty these days. He'll settle for something that isn't dodgy at this point.
Harrison crosses the lab, starting to put things away quietly as he lets the silence sit between the two of them. He could push — he should push, but the image of the blood dripping from his nose still lingers in his mind. It's enough to make his own blood run cold, to quell any harshness that may be stewing in him.
There's no response to Cisco's last question, though; instead, Harrison slowly starts to pack things away. ]
[ On an average day, if Harry had so clearly laid a verbal trap for him, Cisco would have answered promptly, vehemently, and called him out on it. But today isn't an average day. He opens his mouth, desperately trying to think of a band, but his mind goes completely blank. And he can see it in Harry's face, when he darts a quick look, that he doesn't buy it. Cisco muffles his reaction to Harry's steadying hand, the only indication of his discomfort is the tension in his shoulders, the way he exhales when Harry moves away again. ]
I need to go. Just... for a day or two.
[ Cisco watches Harry bent over and gathering up tools, cleaning the lab, uncharacteristically subdued. With a lurch in his stomach, he imagines what this might seem like, to Harry. Cisco, rude and petulant, snapping at him and then zoning out like that, only to turn around and lie to his face. He and Harry are different in many ways, but he knows that if the tables were turned, he would be frantic with worry, thinking that he'd done something wrong, that everything was fall to pieces. He swallows hard and forces himself to speak. ]
It's not you. You didn't do anything. It's- I'm- [ Cisco gnaws at his lower lip for several tense moments before he concludes: ] You don't wanna know.
[ It's hard not to be concerned, especially when feeling the tension in his shoulder, the way he's holding himself up right now, and the bit of hesitance in his voice. Harrison straightens up, brows furrowing in contemplation. ]
Yes. I do.
[ It's a clipped response, though it lacks the heat that it would normally carry. The silence hangs after that as he quietly turns over the next step in his head. He could push; it's in his nature to push, to prod, to question until there's answers. But that's for things, not people. Not the ones closest to him. At the same time, without it, the odds of Ramon saying anything are slim.
Still, he can't bring himself to be that cruel. Not when Cisco is already pulling away. Not when the blood has been freshly wiped from his face. ]
Whatever happened to you down there— [ He gestures vaguely in the direction of the basement, because that was the catalyst, wasn't it? He didn't want to go down there, it wasn't until he did go down that his nose bled, that he maybe vibed. ] You're not alone.
[ He pauses, reaching over to slip his glasses back on, pushing them up his nose. ]
[ Cisco crosses his arms tightly over his chest. Harry is only saying that, he thinks, because he doesn't know better. He doesn't know what's best for his own peace of mind or for their relationship. Once Cisco actually tells him, he'll regret it.
But even as he is thinking it, the truth is clawing at his chest from the inside, wanting to be freed. There is some part of him that longs to tell Harry, just so that someone apart from him will know and understand. It's profoundly isolating, being the only one who remembers. Harry already guessed that the basement is involved (logical enough to put together, and of course he wouldn't actually know that it had happened down there). How much more had he guessed, could he guess, based on what Cisco had told him?
A few long seconds of silence pass as Cisco tries to remember how much he'd told Harry about it. Harry knows the mechanics of it - the heart, the chest. He'd mentioned that on that first, disastrous day that they met, when he was raw and angry and not being careful with what he said. He knows that Cisco vibed about dying, though perhaps not the extent. And of course, unlike everyone else, he knows that Eobard and Cisco had been... involved.
In the end it's Harry's insistence that he isn't going to bully an answer out of Cisco that makes him sigh, tuck his hair behind his ears again and grasp around for the right words. It isn't often that Cisco is speechless, but the effort it is taking him to speak right now would be obvious to any observer. Saying the words is like pulling teeth, but he manages, with difficulty: ]
Nothing happened, I just. Vibed. I mean. Something did happen, just not... It was a year ago. Tomorrow. [ But that doesn't explain anything. It's not good enough. He has to act least be specific enough that Harry understands what 'it' he means. Cisco tightens his arms, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on a point a few inches from Harry's feet. ] That he killed me. Down there.
[ It sounded so much smaller when he said it out loud: small and sordid and ugly, and not at all worth all the fuss he is making out of it. When he speaks again his words are quick and brisk and glib. ]
Anyway boo hoo that's why tomorrow I want to be anywhere but here so yeah there's no concert and I'm sorry I lied but I should get out of town anyway because if I'm this bad today who knows what a mess I'll be tomorrow and you definitely do not want to deal with that so I'll just take a day trip and have some me time to be a baby about it and I'll come back and then we can all go back to normal again and pretend none of this ever happened, cool? Cool.
[ Ah. And there it is. And suddenly, it makes so much more sense to Harrison why Cisco is standing there, arms crossed tightly across his chest — as though he were protecting his heart. He remembers all too clearly the vivid description that Cisco had given him those first few days he'd been there, and how Harrison had laughed back in his face at first. He'd been nothing more than an exposed nerve at that point, ready to lash out at anyone in his periphery. At the time, it had been an opportunity to kickstart Ramon's abilities; weeks later, when his wounds had begun to scab over and they'd all gotten in deep under his skin, it became an example to him of how he'd gone too far.
Now, it's unthinkable, and a deep sense of disgust washes over him briefly before he narrows his eyes, shoving it to the side for now. More than anything, he'd love to snap a hand up and swipe it at the row of beakers nearby, sending a few flying to the floor, and it takes all his restraint to not do as much. Harrison's fingers clench tightly into a fist at his side instead, knuckles whitening, the only indicator of the pent up rage. Some part of him wishes he could have met Eobard Thawne, if only so he could have wrapped his fingers around his throat and throttled him for everything he'd done to this world, to the people who'd cared about him.
But it's not about him. Harrison's eyes drift over to Cisco, who's already trying to pass it off as meaningless and when he speaks, his voice is rough. ]
Do you want to be alone?
[ It's a valid question. He's not the best option for companionship in this situation — not when he shares a face and a voice with the man in question. And while part of him wants to push him to take Allen or Snow or even Joe along with him, they were involved just as deeply, weren't they? It wouldn't be much better than him in the long run. ]
[ He is surprised by how quickly the answer comes - instantaneously, like a reflex. The thought of being on his own, with nothing and no one to distract him from his own memories, is an awful one. Even if he tried to make himself care about seeing the sights in a different city, he doubts it would work very well. But what alternative is there? ]
But I don't think I can... I'm not gonna be able to be normal, so I should be.
[ The statement makes sense, according to Cisco's logic. If he can't manage to be pleasant to be around, then of course the only solution is to remove himself from his friends and family temporarily, so they won't have to deal with him. It's the same logic as calling out of work sick - his role as a friend and a partner is to help, to make Barry laugh, make Caitlin smile, to help Joe with his investigations. To know when Harry's grunt means 'hand me the wrench'. ]
It's not a big deal anyway.
[ He really tries to sound like he means that, but it's hard to be very convincing when his voice is rough with emotion that he is trying to keep pushed down, contained, manageable. ]
[ It's hard to stay away when Cisco's voice is as rough as it is. It takes a moment or two before Harrison makes a decision. Telegraphing his movements clearly, he slowly makes his way over and sits on the edge of a counter nearby, close enough that Cisco could reach out and just barely touch him if he'd like, but not quite crowding his personal space just yet.
He glances over at him, eying him quietly before he speaks again. ]
Seems like a big deal to you.
[ There's nothing cold or comforting about that statement — it's more a statement of fact. The sky is blue, grass is green, and Cisco is still upset at the memory of being murdered in another timeline. It's followed up by a shrug and a casual remark. ]
I could drive to Midway.
[ Not even an offer. Then again, "normal" for him has always been some sort of bizarre concept. He was hardly normal for the first few months on their Earth, after all. Turnabout seems like fair play, particularly in this instance. ]
And he thinks... what would be the worst that could happen? If he accepted the offer, took a day trip with Harry away from this place and all the memories in it?
But then, his brain has always been inconveniently skilled at supplying worst case scenarios. ]
You shouldn't have to deal with it. [ He searches for the right words, grimacing and giving up, screwing up his courage a second time, forging on: ] I shouldn't have said anything in the first place. It shouldn't be a big deal to me. I've been in that basement like a hundred times since then and it was never a problem, and- and it didn't happen in this timeline anyway so. It's not like it counts.
[ Harrison gives him a long look, considering that. Cisco had always been that way — brushing things aside that had an effect on him, refusing to do anything that could be remotely perceived as selfish. But all of that aside, it was also illogical. And while he wasn't the best when it came to comfort, he could lay things out logically and approach it from a different angle.
He tilts his head to one side. ]
There's a trigger involved. [ Harrison shrugs at that. ] It didn't affect you before because it wasn't on your mind. Now it is. And. [ There's a pause as he raises an eyebrow. ] Stop minimizing it. That comes part and parcel with your abilities. It counts.
[ With a sigh, he reaches down to clean off his glasses and murmurs. ]
[ Perhaps it's unfair, that Cisco had come into this expecting the opposite reaction from Harry. That he would tell him to just not think about it, or to stop making such a fuss about something that wasn't worth it to his eyes. Cisco knows that a lot has happened and changed since that very first conversation, and he'd thought he had already managed to uproot any old opinions of Harry based on the first impression he'd given when he was frantic about Jesse and acting callous and terrible towards everyone. But apparently Cisco had been wrong; some small part of him still remembered Harry laughing, and shrank from the possibility of him laughing again.
But now Harry is speaking to him, softly and bluntly, telling him that it does count. And even though his kneejerk reaction is to refuse Harry, it suddenly occurs to him that he is the one doing what Harry had done, that first time Cisco kissed him: that he's trying to make his decisions for him, that he is acting as if he knew what was best for Harry. So, not without effort, Cisco says: ]
Okay.
[ Cisco takes a small step forward, perches on that counter next to Harry. He is being as cautious with his proximity as Harry had been, because he doesn't want to startle himself into another vibe. But he takes it in increments. When sitting next to him proves okay, he settles his hand over Harry's. When that is okay, too, he lets his head fall to the side so that he can rest it on Harry's shoulder. It's hard to make himself believe it's okay to talk about it, but he remembers again the vibe he'd had and shivers, and then feels like he ought to explain since Harry probably could feel it. ]
Normally, when I vibe it- [ Betraying a bit more than he's meant to, there, by implying it's something not infrequent ] -I see it from my point of view, like it's a memory, but this time it wasn't. [ Cisco swallows, half wishing he hadn't started speaking, half relieved to be able to talk about it with someone. ] I mean I didn't think he cried or read poetry or whatever, but the second I was dead he just... turned around and left my body lying there on the ground like it was-
[ Cisco's voice cracks so badly then that he gives up on finishing the sentence. He shuts his eyes, presses his cheek into Harry's shoulder, and sighs. Harry might be able to decide what he deals with, but Cisco doesn't have that luxury. He's tried and tried NOT dealing with this, but it just kept coming back. He doesn't have the choice to opt out. ]
[ Harrison glances over at him, watching him quietly as little by little, Cisco draws closer and closer to him until they're side by side, Cisco's hand over his. Quietly, Harrison turns his own hand over, lacing his fingers together with Cisco's and rubs at his hand lightly with his thumb, though he makes no other movements beyond that.
When Cisco's voice cracks, he gives his hand a light squeeze, taking the reins of the conversation. ]
Your powers are getting stronger. [ There's a pause. That's not the point, he knows, though it bears mentioning. It's not that Cisco's mind was doing it to torment him; rather, he'd managed to unlock more of his potential which was, in the long run, a good thing. Or it would be, once he could control it more. In this case, not so much.
He glances sidelong at him, words failing him now. He never was that great with them to begin with, but he should say something. Anything. In the end, he shakes his head slowly and speaks with a soft rasp. ] . . . You deserved better.
Yeah. Never vibed another timeline and seen stuff I wasn't there for, before.
[ There are times, mostly late at night after Harry's already fallen asleep, where Cisco thinks about his powers, and how they keep growing, and how far they might go. Sometimes he thinks about it with an almost breathless thrill of possibility. More often he thinks about it with gnawing uncertainty and an undertone of dread. But right now, at least, he isn't too concerned. There is too much else on his mind to worry about how his powers are reaching deeper and deeper into the workings of reality.
Cisco huffs a tiny, colorless laugh when Harry says he deserved better. Everyone on Earth deserved better than being murdered and their corpse left out in the open without a second glance. But he thinks he knows what Harry means - he's not just talking about basic human decency. He's talking about Eobard and him, about the betrayal more than the murder itself. Cisco shuts his eyes and says: ]
I know it's super weird for you. When I talk about him, I mean. I try not to, most of the time.
[ Cisco looks at his hand, where Harry's rubbing his thumb, a tiny gesture of reassurance. From Harry, though, small gestures seem to mean more, somehow. He might not be ostentatious about it, but he does care. So Cisco draws in a slightly unsteady breath, trying to pluck up his mood, adding: ]
No one likes hearing about their partner's evil ex, anyway. What is this, Scott Pilgrim?
You know that reference is flying right over my head, Ramon.
[ Though it's a muted, murmured retort, accompanied by the mildest of smirks — the corner of his mouth twitching upwards briefly. He'd expect as much though when it comes to the two of them talking about Thawne; an awkward joke here, a side-step there, and for the most part, they'd avoided anything to do with him, for better or for worse.
It seemed almost impossible to ignore him now, what with him looming large over Cisco.
Harrison lets out a soft sigh, lifting his head up towards him. ]
I know you do. — Try, anyway. [ He makes a small, vague gesture with his other hand before lowering it down onto the counter, fingers curling over the edge. ] But that's not . . .
[ His voice trails off as he grapples with his words. What was he trying to say, exactly? It's not like he'd ever had a go with an evil speedster in disguise, much less for an extended period of time. Except oh wait, he had, but that was different. There'd never been anything too serious with Garrick— with Zolomon. But . . . ]
. . . it's not the same. [ There's a long pause as Harrison chews at his lower lip idly, like he's debating on whether it's a good idea to go forward with what he's about to say. As a result, his words are stilted and he has to pause at times, softly stumbling here and there. ] It's— really not the same, Cisco. But. When she— [ His fingers curl a bit more over the edge of the counter. ] . . . passed, I buried myself in work. In Jesse's needs, too. [ His eyes flick forward, focusing on a point on the far wall, on anything else but the other person in the room. ] And I buried how I felt about all of it for— well. For years. And it built up.
[ He shakes his head quietly, willing himself to look back over at Cisco — or at least, in Cisco's direction. ]
What I'm getting at, Ramon, is that not talking about it is most likely doing you more harm than good. [ There's another long pause. He's not going to like saying it and Cisco definitely isn't going to like hearing it, but— ] Especially given your powers.
It's a comic. In order to date this one girl, the main guy's gotta fight everyone she's ever dated, first.
[ Cisco knows Harry wasn't actually asking for an explanation, but it's a brief moment of relief, to talk about something that's not him, or his life, or the less pleasant things that have happened in it.
He doesn't know what he was expecting Harry to say, when he brought up avoiding talking about Eobard. A nod, a dry small laugh, maybe even a thank you? Certainly, he didn't expect Harry to go even quieter, searching for words that are clearly difficult to find. For a moment or two Cisco has trouble with who 'she' must be, but then it hits him - Harry must be talking about Jesse's mom. Not all that hard to figure out, from the context, but it took him a moment to get there because Harry never talks about Jesse's mom. Like.... ever.
So now that he is, Cisco listens very carefully to what he's saying. The first part isn't much of a surprise - Harry burying grief in work. But then he is saying that it had been a bad call, that time had made things worse rather than better because he'd suppressed it. The part about his powers making things worse does, indeed, bring a frown to Cisco's face, even if he wipes it away a moment or two later. He never wanted these powers, and as hard as he's worked to train them and learn to tolerate them, they still feel like a remnant of Eobard that's embedded in his body - a piece of his awful legacy that Cisco wants no part of. ]
Did you? Ever unbury it, I mean.
[ If there were any time to ask that question, this seems like it. It breaks Cisco's heart a little, the way Harry looks away, directs the words down at his hands, still and sad. Cisco doesn't mind so much, then, redirecting the conversation to his own problems, to give Harry a little break from talking about things that are hard. ]
I don't know who I'd even... it's too close to home for Barry and Caitlin. Joe's great but he's not my dad. And there ain't no therapist in the city who's gonna hear "my ex was a time traveler from the future who murdered me in a different timeline that I still remember and I'm kinda messed up about it" and not send me off to the funny farm.
[ Which is as much of a confession as anything. It's about all he'll say on the matter, though he's said more than he really should at this point. He gives Cisco another side-long look, listening quietly. Harrison waits until he finishes before speaking. ]
Probably. Though they'd have better reasons to do it.
[ He gives him a faint smirk at that poor attempt at levity. It's all another distraction, though. Harrison would like to say he's a better person these days, but he's not good enough to offer himself up to him as an ear. Advice was never his strongest suit, beyond cautionary tales and coping mechanisms. His blood still boils at the thought of Thawne parading around S.T.A.R. Labs with his face and Allen, Snow, and Ramon all wound around his little finger, only for him to stab them in the back without any remorse. Or, in Cisco's case, break his heart in more ways than one.
Harrison can feel his fingers curl against the counter more, knuckles turning white with a clenched sort of rage, and he shakes his head slowly. ]
. . . I don't suppose "writing it down in a journal" would be too helpful, would it.
[ When Harry says there would be other reasons to think he was crazy than talking about time travel, Cisco rolls his eyes and manages a tiny smile. It's good, though. The attempt at humor, even if it isn't exactly Harry's best joke. It reminds Cisco, in a roundabout way, that there is more to him than this. Sure, everything with Eobard had changed him, and it's a part of him, but it's not all of him. And even if it all is looming large today, that doesn't mean it will tomorrow, or the day after.
His instincts are still telling him that once he can, he should go back to ignoring it all, pretending it didn't happen, trying to will himself to forget about it. But if he's reacting this intensely, after a year, it would seem that that strategy isn't exactly working. He is a few seconds from dismissing the journal idea out of hand, but he stops himself and actually considers. Apart from feeling a little silly about it, there's no real downside. If he didn't like it, he could always just stop. There would be no reason to lie, if he were only writing it down for himself. He could include all the parts that are too awful even to tell Harry, and he wouldn't need to worry about anyone's opinion of him changing. So long as he kept it safe. ]
Maybe. If I wrote it in code...
[ Cisco scrubs a hand over his face, trying to chase away the cobwebs. But of course, that could only do so much when they were still sitting here together, in this lab, which feels too full of memories. Abruptly, he gets to his feet. ]
You ever been to Midway before? I hear the zoo's pretty rad.
[ Harrison glances over at him, giving him a half-smile at the mention of writing it in code. The journal idea had been one he'd tossed out as a last ditch sort of thing, trying to offer any sort of solution at this point. The idea of it actually being viable was a bit heartening.
He then raises an eyebrow before shaking his head. ]
No. Not here, anyway. On my Earth, yeah — there's not much there. Not even a zoo.
[ He pushes himself off the counter and then dusts himself off before turning his attention back towards Cisco. ]
We start now, how long would it take to get there?
If we start now? Probably... about four hours, maybe three and a half. We could make it in time for dinner. [ Cisco's mouth quirks into a little smile. It's small, and lopsided, but it's something. ] We could go somewhere fancy.
[ He knows, of course, that whether they're in Midway or in Central City, 'somewhere fancy' isn't really Harry's idea of a good time. Which is why he's teasing him about it - trying to show that he's okay, that he hasn't totally lost his sense of humor and ability to make a (cute) nuisance of himself. ]
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franciscoramon) wrote2015-02-21 01:38 am
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[ At least this way, if Harry detects any hostility under the deliberately glib tone, he'll think it's coming from somewhere else. And it's not as if it isn't the truth. Harry is always telling him to hand him this or that, to carry things for him, to fetch. Half the time he didn't even bother asking, just gestured and grunted and waited for Cisco to read his mind. He certainly never said please. Even though most of the time Cisco didn't mind, right now he is in that particular state of anxious sensitivity where even the slightest thing has the potential to twist the knot in his stomach even tighter. ]
You do it and I'll take a turn under there. I told you we should switch ten minutes ago.
[ Harry is staring at him from the floor and Cisco looks long enough to see the lifted brow, but he can't force himself to keep his eyes on Harry's face for more than a moment or two. He turns his back so that fact is less obvious, pretending to look over the schematics laid out on the long table again, though his eyes are unfocused as he lifts the pages. ]
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[ At that, he gestures from the machine to himself and then to Cisco. ]
Is working together. It makes more sense to have you processing the data on the laptop — the laptop with the program — while I make the necessary adjustments here. I already know what has and hasn't been fine tuned, it doesn't make sense to switch off now.
[ Harrison huffs. It should be obvious, shouldn't it? Of course Ramon is better at analyzing the data and directing him on adjustments. There's no need for them to suddenly switch it up or for him to stop what he's doing, pull himself up from the creeper, wash his hands and make his way down to the basement, not when it would easily take Cisco half the time. Besides— ]
And I'm not— always making you get me things.
[ He waves a wrench in Cisco's direction, even though his back is turned. That . . . truth be told, wasn't something he was entirely sure of, come to think of it. And that thought is enough to distract him from scrutinizing Cisco's behavior any further for the time being. ]
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[ The pretense of him just joking or teasing has officially disappeared, and the word comes out a petulant snap. There's no way out of it. There's no way around Harry's logic, no way to say no without explaining the whole ugly terrible thing, and even if he wanted to do that (he doesn't), Cisco isn't sure he would know how to. So instead he relents, gives up, and goes stalking out the door in the direction of the elevator. Part of him is glad that no one else seems to be around - no need to put on a show for anyone. But another part of him could swear that he can feel the emptiness of the building around him, his own isolation within it.
When the doors open to the basement, Cisco almost stays in the elevator. He contemplates slinking back to his (their) apartment and texting Harry some bullshit about a headache... but that would be stupid. He's being stupid right now. This isn't how it's supposed to work. Things had been bad at first, and then time had passed and now things are better, so it shouldn't bother him any more. That's how it goes. He's over this.
At least the laptop is sitting out on the desk, and Cisco only has to walk a few steps, grab it, and then he can be out again. But by the time he's got it unplugged and in his arms and he's turned around, the elevator doors have shut, and he has to press the button and wait for them to open again. It feels like it takes an eternity, and the whole time he is thinking don't vibe, don't vibe, don't you dare vibe....
Which was probably a mistake, because as soon as the elevator doors open, Cisco steps inside, hits the button for the right floor, and promptly feels the floor beneath him falling away, even though all he should feel is the elevator moving up. It's not the vibe that he was expecting - the old familiar one, its edges worn soft from repeated remembering. This is something new; in the past, when he has vibed the original timeline, it has been all form his perspective: what he'd seen, what he'd heard, what he'd felt. This time, however, he vibes something he hadn't seen. The vibe starts just in time to see himself crumple to the floor. Then, after no longer than three seconds of stony-faced contemplation, Eobard turns, strolls back to the elevator with his hands in his pockets. As the doors close, Cisco tears himself from the vibe, breathing hard.
He hadn't known before that Dr. Wells had just.... left him there, on the ground. Like a pile of mess that he would clean up later, when he had the time. Like he was a thing, not a person.
Cisco winces against the pain of the interrupted vibe, wondering why of all things his foot hurts, until he realizes the laptop is sitting on the floor of the elevator. He'd dropped it. Cisco picks it up, winces when he spots a very noticeable crack in the casing, but when he opens it, propping it on one arm, it seems to be running fine.]
Here.
[ Cisco says it dully, too distracted to remember his animosity from a minute or two ago, just as he is too distracted to notice that he is bleeding from the nose, just a little. He lays the laptop on the ground near to Harry's feet and then sits in (or collapses on) one of the desk chairs, thinking hard. This going about his day like nothing going on is untenable. He should go somewhere tomorrow. Somewhere out of town, just for the day. Somewhere he's never been before where no one knows him, where he can be alone and not talk to anyone and not have to put up a front. ]
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Any sound that might have come out dies in his throat though, and he quickly purses his lips. The telltale sign of blood dribbling down from his nose is enough to derail his thought process entirely.
Emotions aren't his forte, which is the understatement of the century when it comes to Harrison Wells. They tend not manifest as visibly for him as they do for others. So while the pit in his stomach suddenly opens up wide and a sort of panic immediately grips at his heart, leaving an ache in his chest, he appears to be stone-faced as he sits up mechanically. Harrison sets the laptop to the side and then reaches over for a rag nearby, wiping the grease from his hands carefully, meticulously — the only sign that he's concerned. "Concerned" — another gross understatement. Visions of him sickly and translucent in bed pass through his head, and the grip around his heart tightens just a bit more.
His eyes flick up to study Cisco quietly for a moment or two, mind racing. Where was Barry, had he done something again? Were there more time remnants lurking about? Why hadn't Cisco said anything, or did he even notice? Harrison pauses and closes his eyes, pushing away everything he can't control (much to his chagrin), attempting to focus on what he can.
Cisco. Right.
Harrison pushes himself up and wanders over to the sink, washing his hands methodically. He dries them off, then grabs a few tissues from a box near the sink. Quietly, he pulls a chair over next to Cisco's and settles into it, holding the tissues out to him silently. ]
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Closing his eyes, Cisco focuses hard on pushing away the image of Dr. Wells turning his back on his body, so casually, so remorselessly. He doesn't know what he had expected. He hadn't spent much time thinking about the moments after his death. Where had he been going? To get a body bag from the morgue? To start arranging the cover-up? To kill Caitlin, too?
Harry's only a foot or two away when he opens his eyes, scooting a chair towards him and holding out a wad of tissues at him. Cisco stupidly thinks that Harry thinks he's crying, opens his mouth to say that he's fine, feels a wetness against his lips. He lifts a hand and feels the blood, and then the tissues make sense. Cisco takes them from Harry, glancing up at his face for just a split second before his eyes slide away again. ]
Thanks.
[ It takes a huge effort to get his mind moving, to try to haul himself back into the present. Harry's not sniping at him. Harry's also not asking what happened, in that clipped efficient way of his. Harry's totally silent, and that means Harry's worried and doesn't know how to say it, and Harry can't be worried because the last one on Earth Cisco wants to talk about any of this with is Harry. And maybe that's not a great sign, but right now Cisco doesn't care what's a good sign and what isn't. ]
It's really dry down there.
[ Which is, quite possibly, the lamest lie he has ever told in a history of very weak lies. ]
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No. It isn't.
[ He leans back against his seat, studying him quietly. A nosebleed usually means vibes and though Ramon had been getting better with controlling his abilities, including the visions and everything they entailed, he still got them during the more taxing ones — the ones that drained at his powers and his general state of mind. Add to that the fact that he didn't want to go down into the basement before, and it all added up to something . . . well. Something not great centered around that basement. But there were a lot of bad memories littered around the lab.
Harrison had pushed and pushed at Cisco when he first came to this Earth, with a complete disregard for any personal boundaries. As they grew closer, he pulled back on that more and more. Sure, he'd still give Ramon a good kick in the pants when the situation called for it in his mind, but the days of him being a pushy bastard just because had long since passed (though it certainly helped that Jesse was safe and sound on Earth-2). He clasps his hands in his lap, giving Cisco a long look. He could sit there in silence for as long as the both of them wanted, but something tells him that this time, that isn't going to get them anywhere.
Instead, he licks at his lips as he considers his words carefully before he speaks again. There's so much he wants to ask — What happened? Are you okay? Why didn't you tell me the truth? — but that wouldn't get them anywhere and besides, he already knows how Cisco would respond to all three at this point. His eyes flick from the machine and the laptop back over to him, and it's a moment before he finally settles on something. ]
Alright. We're done for the day.
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It takes Cisco a solid 20 seconds to even remember what it is they were doing that they could be done with for the day. When it sinks in he nods, chewing at his lower lip. But done for the day here means, more likely than not, going back to his apartment together, and that seems like an even worse option. There will be less to distract Harry there from how Cisco is acting, less excuses to keep a distance between them.
He knows it's unfair to Harry, not being able to look at him, not being able to swallow all this down and treat him normally. At the very least, though, if Cisco can't do all that, he isn't going to burden him by breaking down and rambling about Eobard. They had talked about him a very little, that first time Cisco had kissed Harry, and that tiny discussion had been enough to make Harry decide he shouldn't be with Cisco, for Cisco's own sake. If he knew just what an awful tangle Cisco's mind had been this last week, because of stuff from so long ago, would that be enough to have him changing his mind? Would he want to go back to Earth-2 to be with his daughter and away from this damaged guy whose issues weren't worth hurdling? ]
I think I'm gonna drive to Midway.
[ He ought to have given himself a few more minutes to make the excuse more plausible, but Cisco couldn't stand another second of silence and the fuzzy blue of Harry's eyes that he can just barely see. ]
For tomorrow. There's ... a thing. A- concert. I've been meaning to tell you for ages but I kept forgetting. I'll be back the day after tomorrow, though.
[ Cisco gets up, sways ever so slightly. Why did he have to be clumsy and unbalanced, now of all times? ]
We can... we can get back to all this then. Right?
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A concert, huh.
[ He straightens up and turns, glancing back over at Cisco dubiously, eyes half-lidded. ]
Who's playing.
[ But he only allows him a moment to respond — if he'd been meaning to tell him, if it had just slipped his mind that he was making this big road trip, wouldn't he know it almost immediately? Harrison isn't expecting a response, though. He already knows there isn't one, that it's a cover for— something. For whatever it is, whatever's going on with him.
He takes a step over as Cisco stands, reaching over to rest a hand on his shoulder briefly, to quietly help steady him before pulling back. It's a moment or two before he murmurs again. ]
If you need to go, just say that.
[ God knows he's needed to do the same. Half of Harrison's road trip to find Jesse had been a desperate need to get out of the lab, to be by himself and have time to think after the fiasco with Zoom and Allen's speed and everything. The others had similar baggage — Allen spent a solid two months away before he'd dragged his feet back in after Zoom had been taken care of. Snow had even taken an impromptu spa weekend after all of that, though Harrison had a sneaking suspicion that Iris West had a hand in that little miracle. Ramon could need the same, feasibly. Honesty would be nice, but he's the last person to harp on and on about honesty these days. He'll settle for something that isn't dodgy at this point.
Harrison crosses the lab, starting to put things away quietly as he lets the silence sit between the two of them. He could push — he should push, but the image of the blood dripping from his nose still lingers in his mind. It's enough to make his own blood run cold, to quell any harshness that may be stewing in him.
There's no response to Cisco's last question, though; instead, Harrison slowly starts to pack things away. ]
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I need to go. Just... for a day or two.
[ Cisco watches Harry bent over and gathering up tools, cleaning the lab, uncharacteristically subdued. With a lurch in his stomach, he imagines what this might seem like, to Harry. Cisco, rude and petulant, snapping at him and then zoning out like that, only to turn around and lie to his face. He and Harry are different in many ways, but he knows that if the tables were turned, he would be frantic with worry, thinking that he'd done something wrong, that everything was fall to pieces. He swallows hard and forces himself to speak. ]
It's not you. You didn't do anything. It's- I'm- [ Cisco gnaws at his lower lip for several tense moments before he concludes: ] You don't wanna know.
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Yes. I do.
[ It's a clipped response, though it lacks the heat that it would normally carry. The silence hangs after that as he quietly turns over the next step in his head. He could push; it's in his nature to push, to prod, to question until there's answers. But that's for things, not people. Not the ones closest to him. At the same time, without it, the odds of Ramon saying anything are slim.
Still, he can't bring himself to be that cruel. Not when Cisco is already pulling away. Not when the blood has been freshly wiped from his face. ]
Whatever happened to you down there— [ He gestures vaguely in the direction of the basement, because that was the catalyst, wasn't it? He didn't want to go down there, it wasn't until he did go down that his nose bled, that he maybe vibed. ] You're not alone.
[ He pauses, reaching over to slip his glasses back on, pushing them up his nose. ]
But. I'm not going to force you.
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But even as he is thinking it, the truth is clawing at his chest from the inside, wanting to be freed. There is some part of him that longs to tell Harry, just so that someone apart from him will know and understand. It's profoundly isolating, being the only one who remembers. Harry already guessed that the basement is involved (logical enough to put together, and of course he wouldn't actually know that it had happened down there). How much more had he guessed, could he guess, based on what Cisco had told him?
A few long seconds of silence pass as Cisco tries to remember how much he'd told Harry about it. Harry knows the mechanics of it - the heart, the chest. He'd mentioned that on that first, disastrous day that they met, when he was raw and angry and not being careful with what he said. He knows that Cisco vibed about dying, though perhaps not the extent. And of course, unlike everyone else, he knows that Eobard and Cisco had been... involved.
In the end it's Harry's insistence that he isn't going to bully an answer out of Cisco that makes him sigh, tuck his hair behind his ears again and grasp around for the right words. It isn't often that Cisco is speechless, but the effort it is taking him to speak right now would be obvious to any observer. Saying the words is like pulling teeth, but he manages, with difficulty: ]
Nothing happened, I just. Vibed. I mean. Something did happen, just not... It was a year ago. Tomorrow. [ But that doesn't explain anything. It's not good enough. He has to act least be specific enough that Harry understands what 'it' he means. Cisco tightens his arms, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on a point a few inches from Harry's feet. ] That he killed me. Down there.
[ It sounded so much smaller when he said it out loud: small and sordid and ugly, and not at all worth all the fuss he is making out of it. When he speaks again his words are quick and brisk and glib. ]
Anyway boo hoo that's why tomorrow I want to be anywhere but here so yeah there's no concert and I'm sorry I lied but I should get out of town anyway because if I'm this bad today who knows what a mess I'll be tomorrow and you definitely do not want to deal with that so I'll just take a day trip and have some me time to be a baby about it and I'll come back and then we can all go back to normal again and pretend none of this ever happened, cool? Cool.
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Now, it's unthinkable, and a deep sense of disgust washes over him briefly before he narrows his eyes, shoving it to the side for now. More than anything, he'd love to snap a hand up and swipe it at the row of beakers nearby, sending a few flying to the floor, and it takes all his restraint to not do as much. Harrison's fingers clench tightly into a fist at his side instead, knuckles whitening, the only indicator of the pent up rage. Some part of him wishes he could have met Eobard Thawne, if only so he could have wrapped his fingers around his throat and throttled him for everything he'd done to this world, to the people who'd cared about him.
But it's not about him. Harrison's eyes drift over to Cisco, who's already trying to pass it off as meaningless and when he speaks, his voice is rough. ]
Do you want to be alone?
[ It's a valid question. He's not the best option for companionship in this situation — not when he shares a face and a voice with the man in question. And while part of him wants to push him to take Allen or Snow or even Joe along with him, they were involved just as deeply, weren't they? It wouldn't be much better than him in the long run. ]
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[ He is surprised by how quickly the answer comes - instantaneously, like a reflex. The thought of being on his own, with nothing and no one to distract him from his own memories, is an awful one. Even if he tried to make himself care about seeing the sights in a different city, he doubts it would work very well. But what alternative is there? ]
But I don't think I can... I'm not gonna be able to be normal, so I should be.
[ The statement makes sense, according to Cisco's logic. If he can't manage to be pleasant to be around, then of course the only solution is to remove himself from his friends and family temporarily, so they won't have to deal with him. It's the same logic as calling out of work sick - his role as a friend and a partner is to help, to make Barry laugh, make Caitlin smile, to help Joe with his investigations. To know when Harry's grunt means 'hand me the wrench'. ]
It's not a big deal anyway.
[ He really tries to sound like he means that, but it's hard to be very convincing when his voice is rough with emotion that he is trying to keep pushed down, contained, manageable. ]
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He glances over at him, eying him quietly before he speaks again. ]
Seems like a big deal to you.
[ There's nothing cold or comforting about that statement — it's more a statement of fact. The sky is blue, grass is green, and Cisco is still upset at the memory of being murdered in another timeline. It's followed up by a shrug and a casual remark. ]
I could drive to Midway.
[ Not even an offer. Then again, "normal" for him has always been some sort of bizarre concept. He was hardly normal for the first few months on their Earth, after all. Turnabout seems like fair play, particularly in this instance. ]
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And he thinks... what would be the worst that could happen? If he accepted the offer, took a day trip with Harry away from this place and all the memories in it?
But then, his brain has always been inconveniently skilled at supplying worst case scenarios. ]
You shouldn't have to deal with it. [ He searches for the right words, grimacing and giving up, screwing up his courage a second time, forging on: ] I shouldn't have said anything in the first place. It shouldn't be a big deal to me. I've been in that basement like a hundred times since then and it was never a problem, and- and it didn't happen in this timeline anyway so. It's not like it counts.
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He tilts his head to one side. ]
There's a trigger involved. [ Harrison shrugs at that. ] It didn't affect you before because it wasn't on your mind. Now it is. And. [ There's a pause as he raises an eyebrow. ] Stop minimizing it. That comes part and parcel with your abilities. It counts.
[ With a sigh, he reaches down to clean off his glasses and murmurs. ]
Besides, I get to decide what I deal with.
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But now Harry is speaking to him, softly and bluntly, telling him that it does count. And even though his kneejerk reaction is to refuse Harry, it suddenly occurs to him that he is the one doing what Harry had done, that first time Cisco kissed him: that he's trying to make his decisions for him, that he is acting as if he knew what was best for Harry. So, not without effort, Cisco says: ]
Okay.
[ Cisco takes a small step forward, perches on that counter next to Harry. He is being as cautious with his proximity as Harry had been, because he doesn't want to startle himself into another vibe. But he takes it in increments. When sitting next to him proves okay, he settles his hand over Harry's. When that is okay, too, he lets his head fall to the side so that he can rest it on Harry's shoulder. It's hard to make himself believe it's okay to talk about it, but he remembers again the vibe he'd had and shivers, and then feels like he ought to explain since Harry probably could feel it. ]
Normally, when I vibe it- [ Betraying a bit more than he's meant to, there, by implying it's something not infrequent ] -I see it from my point of view, like it's a memory, but this time it wasn't. [ Cisco swallows, half wishing he hadn't started speaking, half relieved to be able to talk about it with someone. ] I mean I didn't think he cried or read poetry or whatever, but the second I was dead he just... turned around and left my body lying there on the ground like it was-
[ Cisco's voice cracks so badly then that he gives up on finishing the sentence. He shuts his eyes, presses his cheek into Harry's shoulder, and sighs. Harry might be able to decide what he deals with, but Cisco doesn't have that luxury. He's tried and tried NOT dealing with this, but it just kept coming back. He doesn't have the choice to opt out. ]
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When Cisco's voice cracks, he gives his hand a light squeeze, taking the reins of the conversation. ]
Your powers are getting stronger. [ There's a pause. That's not the point, he knows, though it bears mentioning. It's not that Cisco's mind was doing it to torment him; rather, he'd managed to unlock more of his potential which was, in the long run, a good thing. Or it would be, once he could control it more. In this case, not so much.
He glances sidelong at him, words failing him now. He never was that great with them to begin with, but he should say something. Anything. In the end, he shakes his head slowly and speaks with a soft rasp. ] . . . You deserved better.
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[ There are times, mostly late at night after Harry's already fallen asleep, where Cisco thinks about his powers, and how they keep growing, and how far they might go. Sometimes he thinks about it with an almost breathless thrill of possibility. More often he thinks about it with gnawing uncertainty and an undertone of dread. But right now, at least, he isn't too concerned. There is too much else on his mind to worry about how his powers are reaching deeper and deeper into the workings of reality.
Cisco huffs a tiny, colorless laugh when Harry says he deserved better. Everyone on Earth deserved better than being murdered and their corpse left out in the open without a second glance. But he thinks he knows what Harry means - he's not just talking about basic human decency. He's talking about Eobard and him, about the betrayal more than the murder itself. Cisco shuts his eyes and says: ]
I know it's super weird for you. When I talk about him, I mean. I try not to, most of the time.
[ Cisco looks at his hand, where Harry's rubbing his thumb, a tiny gesture of reassurance. From Harry, though, small gestures seem to mean more, somehow. He might not be ostentatious about it, but he does care. So Cisco draws in a slightly unsteady breath, trying to pluck up his mood, adding: ]
No one likes hearing about their partner's evil ex, anyway. What is this, Scott Pilgrim?
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[ Though it's a muted, murmured retort, accompanied by the mildest of smirks — the corner of his mouth twitching upwards briefly. He'd expect as much though when it comes to the two of them talking about Thawne; an awkward joke here, a side-step there, and for the most part, they'd avoided anything to do with him, for better or for worse.
It seemed almost impossible to ignore him now, what with him looming large over Cisco.
Harrison lets out a soft sigh, lifting his head up towards him. ]
I know you do. — Try, anyway. [ He makes a small, vague gesture with his other hand before lowering it down onto the counter, fingers curling over the edge. ] But that's not . . .
[ His voice trails off as he grapples with his words. What was he trying to say, exactly? It's not like he'd ever had a go with an evil speedster in disguise, much less for an extended period of time. Except oh wait, he had, but that was different. There'd never been anything too serious with Garrick— with Zolomon. But . . . ]
. . . it's not the same. [ There's a long pause as Harrison chews at his lower lip idly, like he's debating on whether it's a good idea to go forward with what he's about to say. As a result, his words are stilted and he has to pause at times, softly stumbling here and there. ] It's— really not the same, Cisco. But. When she— [ His fingers curl a bit more over the edge of the counter. ] . . . passed, I buried myself in work. In Jesse's needs, too. [ His eyes flick forward, focusing on a point on the far wall, on anything else but the other person in the room. ] And I buried how I felt about all of it for— well. For years. And it built up.
[ He shakes his head quietly, willing himself to look back over at Cisco — or at least, in Cisco's direction. ]
What I'm getting at, Ramon, is that not talking about it is most likely doing you more harm than good. [ There's another long pause. He's not going to like saying it and Cisco definitely isn't going to like hearing it, but— ] Especially given your powers.
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[ Cisco knows Harry wasn't actually asking for an explanation, but it's a brief moment of relief, to talk about something that's not him, or his life, or the less pleasant things that have happened in it.
He doesn't know what he was expecting Harry to say, when he brought up avoiding talking about Eobard. A nod, a dry small laugh, maybe even a thank you? Certainly, he didn't expect Harry to go even quieter, searching for words that are clearly difficult to find. For a moment or two Cisco has trouble with who 'she' must be, but then it hits him - Harry must be talking about Jesse's mom. Not all that hard to figure out, from the context, but it took him a moment to get there because Harry never talks about Jesse's mom. Like.... ever.
So now that he is, Cisco listens very carefully to what he's saying. The first part isn't much of a surprise - Harry burying grief in work. But then he is saying that it had been a bad call, that time had made things worse rather than better because he'd suppressed it. The part about his powers making things worse does, indeed, bring a frown to Cisco's face, even if he wipes it away a moment or two later. He never wanted these powers, and as hard as he's worked to train them and learn to tolerate them, they still feel like a remnant of Eobard that's embedded in his body - a piece of his awful legacy that Cisco wants no part of. ]
Did you? Ever unbury it, I mean.
[ If there were any time to ask that question, this seems like it. It breaks Cisco's heart a little, the way Harry looks away, directs the words down at his hands, still and sad. Cisco doesn't mind so much, then, redirecting the conversation to his own problems, to give Harry a little break from talking about things that are hard. ]
I don't know who I'd even... it's too close to home for Barry and Caitlin. Joe's great but he's not my dad. And there ain't no therapist in the city who's gonna hear "my ex was a time traveler from the future who murdered me in a different timeline that I still remember and I'm kinda messed up about it" and not send me off to the funny farm.
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[ Which is as much of a confession as anything. It's about all he'll say on the matter, though he's said more than he really should at this point. He gives Cisco another side-long look, listening quietly. Harrison waits until he finishes before speaking. ]
Probably. Though they'd have better reasons to do it.
[ He gives him a faint smirk at that poor attempt at levity. It's all another distraction, though. Harrison would like to say he's a better person these days, but he's not good enough to offer himself up to him as an ear. Advice was never his strongest suit, beyond cautionary tales and coping mechanisms. His blood still boils at the thought of Thawne parading around S.T.A.R. Labs with his face and Allen, Snow, and Ramon all wound around his little finger, only for him to stab them in the back without any remorse. Or, in Cisco's case, break his heart in more ways than one.
Harrison can feel his fingers curl against the counter more, knuckles turning white with a clenched sort of rage, and he shakes his head slowly. ]
. . . I don't suppose "writing it down in a journal" would be too helpful, would it.
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His instincts are still telling him that once he can, he should go back to ignoring it all, pretending it didn't happen, trying to will himself to forget about it. But if he's reacting this intensely, after a year, it would seem that that strategy isn't exactly working. He is a few seconds from dismissing the journal idea out of hand, but he stops himself and actually considers. Apart from feeling a little silly about it, there's no real downside. If he didn't like it, he could always just stop. There would be no reason to lie, if he were only writing it down for himself. He could include all the parts that are too awful even to tell Harry, and he wouldn't need to worry about anyone's opinion of him changing. So long as he kept it safe. ]
Maybe. If I wrote it in code...
[ Cisco scrubs a hand over his face, trying to chase away the cobwebs. But of course, that could only do so much when they were still sitting here together, in this lab, which feels too full of memories. Abruptly, he gets to his feet. ]
You ever been to Midway before? I hear the zoo's pretty rad.
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He then raises an eyebrow before shaking his head. ]
No. Not here, anyway. On my Earth, yeah — there's not much there. Not even a zoo.
[ He pushes himself off the counter and then dusts himself off before turning his attention back towards Cisco. ]
We start now, how long would it take to get there?
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[ He knows, of course, that whether they're in Midway or in Central City, 'somewhere fancy' isn't really Harry's idea of a good time. Which is why he's teasing him about it - trying to show that he's okay, that he hasn't totally lost his sense of humor and ability to make a (cute) nuisance of himself. ]