[ Later, he'll probably feel guilty about the way Harry gives up. There isn't much room for that now, but he does seem to realize his actions are too harsh and impulsive. Barry slips his hands back into his pockets like it'll offer some pretense of nonchalance; it doesn't, and everything about him is still tense, live-wire, from the strict set of his jaw to the flat tone of his voice. ]
I beat him, you know.
[ There's a hint of smugness in the statement, deeply bitter. Barry's gaze drops to the floor as he plays back the memory. How it had felt to finally outrun him. To win, even if had been taken away within minutes. His chin lifts slightly when he looks back up and meets Harry's gaze, almost challenging. ]
We had him. We could've stopped him if it hadn't been for— [ Timelines. There's blame there, raw, but it's aimless. He doesn't blame Cisco for what happened. He doesn't blame Harry for knowing how to fix it, either, but it's still a loss, something he can't just let go.
For all that he seems to be building up to some kind of ultimatum, he catches himself up short before he gets there. Some of the anger bleeds out, and all that's left in its wake is bitter resolve. ]
[ Harrison immediately shakes his head. If there's one thing he's putting a stop to — theoretically, anyway, since realistically he knows he stands no chance of actually stopping it entirely — it's Barry standing and facing Thawne on his own. And that's what a "talk" is going to turn into. Another conversation with "Dr. Wells," another confrontation, another lopsided truce, all laid at his feet. It was too much for one person's shoulders as-is; Barry Allen of all people didn't need to take on even more. ]
No.
[ He hesitates for a brief moment, then lifts a hand, holding it out to him. It's casual, easy enough for him to withdraw his hand if (and, as he imagines, when) it's brushed aside. ]
You don't have to do this all on your own.
[ And there's a thought. If the tables were turned, if it were Barry reaching out to him, he'd stare him down and push his help away in a heartbeat. But something about these kids — and at heart, they were kids, still trying to find their way — made his heart ache. ]
Edited ("you tagged me at 2am." "welp.") 2016-02-21 23:01 (UTC)
[ Harry says he doesn't have to do it all on his own, and it doesn't change anything — because he does. At the end of the day, he's the one in the suit; he's the one Eobard traveled decades for. That understanding is what keeps Barry still, hesitant, his gaze dropping to the offered hand as he tries to chip away at that inevitability.
It doesn't change anything, but that doesn't make it false. All the times Cisco's suit has brought him back to life, Caitlin's patched him up, Iris or Joe or his dad have talked him out of the darknes — it all counts for something. The movement's still uncertain when he draws one hand from his pocket, thoughtful, and there's something almost testing about the way he takes hold of Harry's palm.
The uncertainty only lasts a second. When he gives Harry's hand a tight squeeze, it's to drag him forward into a hug that's more about need than warmth; Barry's other hand is in a tight fist when he loops his arm around Harry's shoulders, and he doesn't let go of his grip. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He doesn't even know what he's apologizing for anymore. It sounds as tired as it does earnest, but there's no vulnerability in the raw edges; just frustration. ]
[ Harrison starts when Barry pulls him in for a hug. It's not that he's averse to it or any sort of physical contact for that matter. He's not, not really. He'd pushed Cisco away when he knew he was fishing for vision fodder and he'd purposely isolated himself to stay on task. But things had changed over the past few months.
He's tense at first, but it lasts for only a few seconds before he relaxes and instinctively lifts his other arm, wrapping it around him and resting a hand on his lower back lightly. ]
Yeah. [ A pause. ] Me too.
[ There's a lot to be sorry for these days and plenty of guilt to pass around. ]
[ He isn't really surprised by this kind of thing anymore. Harry relaxes, falls into the comforting gesture after only a few uncertain seconds, and it makes sense — because Harry isn't the Dr. Wells he'd been used to, terse and abrasive. Not really. He's a father, and he isn't a stranger to this.
The tension's only just started to bleed from Barry's shoulders when he pulls back, dragging a hand over his mouth in a restless gesture that does more to draw attention to his guarded expression than disguise it. His other hand slides back into one pocket, too, but he doesn't do reserved very well. The restless energy gives away his concern, open and vulnerable. ]
You don't have to do any of it on your own, either. You know that, right?
[ His voice goes a little pitchy on the question, skeptical and insistent, brows pinching together in worry. He isn't just talking about Eobard. Harry's gotten better about accepting their help back home, but it still feels precarious. ]
[ He shifts a hand up to Barry's shoulder, keeping it there even as he pulls back, just shifting his positioning along with him. It's an easy gesture, like he's always done it, like he hasn't been withdrawn from all of them in the majority of his time on Earth-1.
Harrison gives him a half-smirk at that, tilting his head to one side. ]
Why do you think I messaged you?
[ He hadn't outright asked Barry to come, but the result was still the same. It was a start. And . . . it wasn't bad. ]
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no subject
I beat him, you know.
[ There's a hint of smugness in the statement, deeply bitter. Barry's gaze drops to the floor as he plays back the memory. How it had felt to finally outrun him. To win, even if had been taken away within minutes. His chin lifts slightly when he looks back up and meets Harry's gaze, almost challenging. ]
We had him. We could've stopped him if it hadn't been for— [ Timelines. There's blame there, raw, but it's aimless. He doesn't blame Cisco for what happened. He doesn't blame Harry for knowing how to fix it, either, but it's still a loss, something he can't just let go.
For all that he seems to be building up to some kind of ultimatum, he catches himself up short before he gets there. Some of the anger bleeds out, and all that's left in its wake is bitter resolve. ]
I'll talk to him.
no subject
No.
[ He hesitates for a brief moment, then lifts a hand, holding it out to him. It's casual, easy enough for him to withdraw his hand if (and, as he imagines, when) it's brushed aside. ]
You don't have to do this all on your own.
[ And there's a thought. If the tables were turned, if it were Barry reaching out to him, he'd stare him down and push his help away in a heartbeat. But something about these kids — and at heart, they were kids, still trying to find their way — made his heart ache. ]
the edit made this so much more upsetting why
It doesn't change anything, but that doesn't make it false. All the times Cisco's suit has brought him back to life, Caitlin's patched him up, Iris or Joe or his dad have talked him out of the darknes — it all counts for something. The movement's still uncertain when he draws one hand from his pocket, thoughtful, and there's something almost testing about the way he takes hold of Harry's palm.
The uncertainty only lasts a second. When he gives Harry's hand a tight squeeze, it's to drag him forward into a hug that's more about need than warmth; Barry's other hand is in a tight fist when he loops his arm around Harry's shoulders, and he doesn't let go of his grip. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He doesn't even know what he's apologizing for anymore. It sounds as tired as it does earnest, but there's no vulnerability in the raw edges; just frustration. ]
because it wasn't a 2am sleeptag ofc
He's tense at first, but it lasts for only a few seconds before he relaxes and instinctively lifts his other arm, wrapping it around him and resting a hand on his lower back lightly. ]
Yeah. [ A pause. ] Me too.
[ There's a lot to be sorry for these days and plenty of guilt to pass around. ]
no subject
The tension's only just started to bleed from Barry's shoulders when he pulls back, dragging a hand over his mouth in a restless gesture that does more to draw attention to his guarded expression than disguise it. His other hand slides back into one pocket, too, but he doesn't do reserved very well. The restless energy gives away his concern, open and vulnerable. ]
You don't have to do any of it on your own, either. You know that, right?
[ His voice goes a little pitchy on the question, skeptical and insistent, brows pinching together in worry. He isn't just talking about Eobard. Harry's gotten better about accepting their help back home, but it still feels precarious. ]
no subject
Harrison gives him a half-smirk at that, tilting his head to one side. ]
Why do you think I messaged you?
[ He hadn't outright asked Barry to come, but the result was still the same. It was a start. And . . . it wasn't bad. ]