Author's Notes: I am very sorry for how delayed this chapter was. I posted about this on Tumblr, but, in case you didn't see it there, I'll explain again. I've done… something to my arm and shoulder that made doing much of anything with it very painful. It's gotten much better recently (as in, this morning), which is why I'm actually able to do something! (Thank goodness. I was getting Creative Back-Up. …You ever seen Fairly Odd Parents?)

I'm lucky, in that I prewrote this chapter before I injured myself, but it still needed editing and having the html coding put in, which takes about three hours to do by itself, so. Ow. But I really wanted to get a chapter out before the season finale aired on Tuesday.

I actually edited this the night before I posted this chapter, and I was sure it was gonna be some time before I was going to be able to write full chapters. But, this morning, I am almost completely fine and oh my gosh I am so pleased. XD So, hopefully, barring any relapses or something, I should be back to normal really, really soon! The next chapter might be a little late as I try to get back into a rhythm again, though.

Again, apologies! But I am very, very glad to be writing again.

Thank you to my readers, and those who reviewed the last chapter: LovesDragons, Katkee, 2, Adrift at Sea, and bubbles have problems too. Also! Katkee wrote a fanfic-fanfic for this story, about how the alternate timeline of 'Out of Time' might have gone. It's very good, and I encourage everyone who was a little sad that I skipped over that part to go read it. It's not, ah, canon to this fic, but, still so good! :D It's called: Harmonize: Out of Time.

This chapter picks up before a day has passed since "Rogue (Out of) Time".

They were alone. They were alone except for Hartley, crumpled on the floor behind Doctor Wells. Hartley was quiet because he's been gone for months, because he wasn't there, because he was lying on the ground. Doctor Wells looked fondly at Cisco, sitting and standing, and Cisco wanted to cry, he had been crying, will be crying.

"In many ways, you have shown me what it's like to have a son."

The containment field was at his back, and it was broken and fixed and sabotaged. Pressure in his chest, around his heart, emotional and physical and he was elated and he was dead he's dead he's dead dead for centuries－

Cisco woke up, gasping, to the pleasant chiming of his cellphone ringtone. His heart was pounding－still beating－and he sucked in great, gasping breaths. He was shaking. He was crying.

His phone was still ringing.

Cisco flailed, reaching for his bedside table and grabbed the phone, not even looking at the number before he answered.

"Holaow?" he garbled into the phone, brain still trying to catch up.

"Mister Ramon, hello," a brisk and cheerful and totally unfamiliar woman said from the other end of the line, "this is Mary Louise Shroger from Channel 52 News."

That had Cisco instantly sitting up. Oh no. Oh man. Did someone unmask Barry? Did Cold spill despite saying he wouldn't? "Uh－" he began, but was quickly cut off.

"I was wondering if I could get a statement from you on the latest leak from STAR Labs?"

Cisco's mouth moved without his permission. "What leak?"

There was a pause from the other end of the line. Then, "Mister Ramon, were you aware that your employer, Doctor Harrison Wells, had been warned that the particle accelerator could in fact explode, despite him and the Norris Committee both affirming the opposite immediately after the catastrophe?"

Cisco couldn't breathe.

"Mister Ramon?"

"No comment," Cisco said, and hung up.

And his phone immediately began to ring again. Another unknown number, and Cisco could only stare at it. He reached out and declined the call with a shaking finger.

Only for it to ring again.

And again.

And again.

Eventually, Cisco had had to shove his phone under his mattress to muffle it. Then he grabbed his tablet, where he found he'd been emailed about the information leak around a hundred times in the past two hours.

It was only five in the morning.

The leak itself was easy to come across: every local news station was reporting on it, as well as several of the major media outlets. The actual document itself had been removed already, and most of the media agreed that it had probably been Doctor Wells himself who'd done it. But the internet was forever, and there were screencaps and copy-and-pastes all around for Cisco to find.

And what he found was condemning.

It was formulas and equations that, to the average person, looked like another language. In fact, that was what the media was spending much of their coverage on: simply bringing in people to explain what the document was saying. Cisco didn't need an interpreter.

Doctor Wells had lied to them.

He'd told them all that there was no way anyone could have foreseen the explosion. That it was a freak accident, caused by the new technology they were creating, unpredictable. But these numbers painted a different picture.

'Sorry About the Mess,' the leak was titled. It was signed, 'Your Guy.'

Cisco needed a drink. It was only seven in the morning and he needed a drink and how was he supposed to go in to work?

Was he supposed to just call in and say, "Sorry, suffering from an extreme case of betrayal right now, I'll be in tomorrow?"

He groaned, leaning back, into his couch, and pressed his hands over his eyes. He hadn't even bothered to open any blinds yet－it felt like his whole apartment was still asleep. For a moment, he thought about just crawling back into bed, and trying to wake up again. See if that reset the day.

And then there was the sound of lightning, and a quick breeze.

"Cisco!" Barry yelped, his voice suddenly in the living room.

Cisco snapped his hands down, staring at Barry in shock. He was dressed in the Flash suit, and was pulling the cowl back. Cisco just blinked.

Barry exhaled, running a hand over his bare face. "You're okay," he said, which set off all sorts of alarms in Cisco's head.

"What?" Cisco croaked.

Barry looked around the room, taking in the muted television, playing the news, Cisco's bulky laptop he used for more major projects sitting open and displaying the STAR Labs leak, and his tablet sitting on the small coffee table, dozen of unopened emails still waiting.

Cisco was still in his t-shirt and boxers.

"You weren't answering your phone," Barry said, and then grimaced. "You heard," he said.

"Yeah," Cisco grumped. He looked around at the electronic disaster his couch had become, and then frowned at Barry. "Why didn't you knock?" he asked, and then crawled across his couch to peer around the living room wall and to his front door. "Dude, you left the door open."

"Ah, sorry, yeah," Barry said, and the front door was closed in a blur of yellow lightning. Then he was back in front of Cisco, shrugging. "I was just worried."

"About what?" Cisco said, and ran his hands down his face. "That the press were gonna come and eat me?" When it had been very quiet, he could sometimes still hear his phone ringing.

Barry shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Nah, most of them are parked out in front of STAR Labs, which is making it hard to come and go."

Cisco raised his eyebrows. "So, then, what?" he asked. "Another meta on the loose?"

Barry's face twisted, like he'd bit into a lemon. "Yeah," he said, darkly. He blinked a few times, and then looked away from Cisco. "Hartley escaped last night."

Cisco stared.

Barry swallowed, eyes darting back to him. "Uh, Cisco? Are you okay?"

"He－What?" Cisco babbled. It didn't make sense. They'd been building something－a friendship, even, why would－

'You don't keep friends locked up in the basement,' his inner-Captain America told him. 'You don't become friends with people who try to kill your mentor-slash-employer,' his inner-Wolverine replied.

Crud pancakes.

"Is everyone okay?" Cisco asked, putting a hand over his eyes.

"Everyone's fine," Barry said. "Caitlin and－and Wells came in to take care of the metas, and found the mess."

Cisco raised his head. "What mess?" he asked. "What did he do to the labs?"

Barry shook his head. "Nothing to the labs," he said, and then cringed. "But he did manage to blow-up the pipeline entrance, and his own cell door." Cisco groaned, and Barry shrugged. "I cleaned up the debris, but, we're gonna have to work to replace that blast door and fix the cell."

The images from Cisco's wildly vivid daydreams, during those first few days of having Hartley in the pipeline, came back to him. That escaped sounded… eerily familiar. "Did you catch him?" Cisco asked, and then put his hands over his eyes again, sliding further down his couch. "No, otherwise you would've lead with that. This day sucks and it's not even eight in the morning yet."

"Caitlin's on coffee and doughnut duty," Barry said. "She's… not happy with Wells, either."

Cisco didn't know how to address that. Were any of them happy that Wells had lied to them? What a day. First the leak, now Hartley－

Or. Wait.

"When did Hartley escape?" Cisco asked, head snapping up. First Hartley, and then the leak…?

Barry frowned, eyes narrowing. "Uh, around two in the morning?" he offered. Then his eyes widened. "Er, I'd guess."

Cisco eyed him before dragging his tablet back into his lap. "And I started to get the first emails about the leak over an hour later," he said, looking up at Barry.

Barry raised his eyebrows. "You think Hartley caused the leak?"

Cisco looked back down at his tablet. "I think I need a vacation," he grumbled, and then shoved himself to his feet. "But a coffee and doughnut from Jitters, and an awkward conversation with my boss is going to have to do."

He got dressed, leaving Barry in the living room. For his t-shirt of the day, he chose a lovely blood-orange t-shirt depicting the silhouette of a man wielding a chainsaw, the words 'Free Hugs' carved elegantly in the shadow's center.

It fit his mood.

Cisco arrived at work via the Barry Express, but with a new terrifyingly awesome detour: Barry had had to take Cisco up to the roof of STAR Labs to get in through the top entrance. Out at the front and back entrances news vans had gathered, and people were crowding the entrances. With Barry's speed, getting past them had been easy, but now, as Cisco peered down at them from one of the windows on the uppermost floor, he cringed.

"How am I supposed to get home?" he asked, turning to look at Barry.

Barry offered a small shrug. "Joe's already said he'll send some cops this way if things get out of hand," he said. There was a pause. "And Wells said he was preparing a press release when I left."

"Ah man," Cisco breathed, looking back out the window. "What a circus."

They took the elevator to the labs like normal human beings and found Caitlin, sitting at the control panel with her head in her hands.

"Hey, Cait," Cisco said, and Caitlin's head snapped around to stare at him for a second. Then she smiled, a little weak.

"Good morning, Cisco," she said, and cringed. "Or, not good. I guess."

"Where's Wells?" Barry asked, eyes flicking around the lab.

Caitlin blinked a few times, and then took in a breath. "He's fielding calls from the press," she said, and then rubbed at her temples. "They woke me up at five."

Cisco held his hand up. "Hey, me too!" he said, with forced cheer. Caitlin laughed and high-fived him, her own smile becoming brighter.

Cisco glanced around the labs, and then his eyes landed on Hartley's－no. The lab that held Hartley's gloves, and the Expecto-No.

His heart stopped.

"Oh no," Cisco said, and rushed around the table. "No no no no no!"

Caitlin and Barry were at his heels as he rushed into the lab. "What is it?" Caitlin asked. "What's wrong?"

"Ese pendejo!" Cisco hissed. The lab itself wasn't too bad: from the brief glance, Cisco could see that none of the tools were missing, and nothing was broken. But there were some things missing. "Hartley took it."

Barry's brows rose. "His gloves?" he asked, peering over Cisco's shoulder.

"No－Or, not just the gloves," he said, and waved his hand at the basically empty workstation. "He took the Expecto-No, too."

Caitlin's eyes grew wide. "But, without that, how are we supposed to destroy the Time Dementor in the future?"

Cisco scowled, running is hands over his eyes. "I still have the schematics," he said, sighing. "It would be easier to have the actual prototype here to test things on, but, I can－I'll manage. I just."

How could he explain? He and Hartley had been adversarial rivals at best before Hartley left STAR Labs. He and Cisco hadn't worked on many projects together, mostly because Hartley was too important to be wasting his time. It was true, in a way, but Hartley never hid that he hated working with Cisco. These last few months had been… they'd been fun.

"Oh man," Cisco said, and his heart felt a little broken. "He gave me the Vulcan salute before I left him last night. He told me live long and prosper. I replied 'peace and long life'."

Barry cringed with his whole body, shoulders curling and hands clenching. "Ouch," he said. And then, slowly, carefully, shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe that was his way of saying goodbye? And no hard feelings?"

"He stole the Expecto-No," Cisco said flatly, gesturing at the empty table.

"He blew up two doors," Caitlin offered.

"He also hacked our system," came Doctor Wells's voice, from the pipeline hallway.

Cisco took a breath before he turned around, alongside Caitlin and Barry. Wells simply sat there, in the doorway of the control room, and looked at them. "He betrayed your trust," he said, softly, eyes flitting between the three of them. "And so did I."

"So you knew," Caitlin said, voice tense. "You knew that－that there was a chance－" She couldn't continue, mouth hanging open. She swallowed heavily.

Cisco just stood there, anger tight in his gut. Barry might as well have been made of stone.

Wells closed his eyes, nodding, and slowly came closer, wheeling the long way around the center controls station, giving them space. "Hartley came to me," he started, quietly, "and he… he warned me there was a chance that the accelerator could explode."

Caitlin made a soft gasping noise, eyes widening. "Hartley?" she asked, soft and choked.

Wells nodded. "His data did not show a one hundred percent certainty," he continued, "but, the risk was real."

Cisco remembered the fervor that Hartley had worked to save Ronnie and Stein. It had seemed so weird that Hartley had cared that much, weird but nice. It had proved that Hartley did, in fact, have a heart somewhere in there. And now it made sense.

"And yet I made the decision," Wells said, "that… that everything we could learn－everything we could achieve, that all of that… outweighed that risk." His eyes had fallen to the floor, and his hands were clenched tightly together. "I am… I'm sorry."

Barry was nearly vibrating with rage. "People died," Barry hissed, and Wells's eyes rose to his. Barry shook his head. "People are still dying because of this!"

Wells nodded, keeping Barry's gaze. "I know," he said, tone calm, and it was almost grating on Cisco's nerves. "And I'm trying to make up for that mistake. With the work here, that I'm doing now. With you, Barry, as the Flash. With Cisco and Caitlin, and even, sometimes, with Hartley."

Barry's hands clenched into fists, and, finally, he choked out, "I need to go to work." Then he was gone, blowing Cisco's and Caitlin's hair into their faces.

Caitlin stood there for a moment more, her own anger better hidden, but Cisco could almost feel it, from the tenseness of her shoulders. "Then the next time you choose to put our lives, and the lives of the people that we love, at risk," she said, "I'll expect a heads up."

Then she, too, stormed out of the control room, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

That left Cisco, alone, with Wells.

No.

Wait.

It was Barry alone with Wells.

Wells sat there, waiting, and Barry stayed where he was, partially sitting on the table of medical supplies. There was disappointment on his face, but the anger was gone－no, it had never been there.

"After the explosion, when everyone else left you…" Barry paused, eyes narrowing, and he nodded in the direction of the door.. "Caitlin and Cisco stood by you." Wells's eyes closed, and he bowed his head, and Barry continued. "You owe them more than an apology."

Wells's mouth thinned into a tense smile. "They might soon get more than that," he said, "what with Hartley so intent on sending me to the next world."

Barry's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "What are－" he began, and then stopped. He stood up, stepped towards Wells. "That wouldn't make it right with them," he said. Wells swallowed, sitting up and crossing his arms. Barry shook his head. "You broke their trust. Our trust."

And then Barry, too, walked around Wells's chair, and left into the hallway, and Cisco was alone again with Wells.

But Cisco had been alone with Wells the entire time.

Cisco closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. What－?

"Mister Ramon? Cisco!"

Cisco's eyes snapped wide open, and he found himself just a few feet from Wells. Or, rather, that Wells had moved to just a few feet from him. His brows were furrowed in concern. "Are you alright?"

Cisco blinked, rapidly, heart pounding in his chest. "I-I, yeah," he said, taking a step sideways, around Wells. "I just－no sleep," he started, stepping backwards again. "Early call from the press, I just－need some coffee." He gestured behind him, bumping into the center control panel. "Gah! Uh, I'll be－I'll be checking out the damage Hartley did. Sir."

Wells looked utterly confused as Cisco spun around and darted away.

That had not been normal. That had been the complete opposite of normal. What was that? Was he having some surreal 'What Would Barry Do' moments?

Cisco shook his head and finally rounded the last corner of the hallway－

And keyed in the code to open Hartley's cell. Hartley hadn't moved from his sulking position in the back of it, eyes narrowed.

"What?" Hartley asked, looking up from his bent knee. "Did Wells change his mind?"

"Nope," Cisco said, falsely bright, and Hartley's eyes narrowed. "You're still grounded for blowing up the lab."

"That was an accident," Hartley snarled, the same flare of anger that he'd shown when Doctor Wells had ordered him back to his cell. Cisco had gotten the feeling it wasn't just going to be a temporary thing, this time.

It had been weird, Doctor Wells's reaction yesterday. The Expecto-No was just as much Cisco's responsibility, which meant its failure and its subsequently explosive outcome was partially on Cisco's shoulders. And, sure, the damage had been extensive: some computers had been lost, a wall, some windows, and Caitlin had gotten a nasty cut. The anger was to be expected, yeah, but Doctor Wells had zeroed in on Hartley like a dog with a bone. And Hartley had gotten angry, sniped back, but had just… given up, seconds later. Bowed his head and went quiet.

Cisco couldn't stop thinking about it. About what Barry had said about that reporter's upcoming story on Simon Stagg. About what Joe believed regarding Barry's mother's murder. About the containment field just failing. About everything.

Cisco shook his head, and continued. "I'm ignoring what Doctor Wells said."

That made Hartley freeze. His eyes grew wide. "What?" he said, and scrambled to his feet. "Cisco, what are you doing?"

Cisco glanced behind him, as if Doctor Wells could roll down the hallway at any moment. "Listen, I have Caitlin distracting Doctor Wells for a little while, and all the cameras are looped." He spread his hands, nodding at Hartley. "I have limited time, and you could make this go faster."

Hartley swallowed, and there was that fear again. "Cisco," he started, slowly stepping forward. "This… Are you sure you want to do this?"

No.

"I have to know," Cisco said, and held up the magnetic cuffs－

"Stop!" Cisco shouted, fingers clawing the air in front of him. He gasped in a breath, staring at the jagged hole in the pipeline blast door. He'd seen this scene before, experienced this moment. Dreamed this explosion, this fallout.

"What's happening to me?" Cisco whispered.

"Cisco?"

Caitlin was coming down the hallway, and, for a moment, Cisco wasn't sure if he was having another hallucination (what else could he call them). Then she popped around the corner, and Cisco just knew. She looked at him, and then around the hallway.

"I heard you shouting," Caitlin said. Her eyebrows rose as she looked at the pipeline door. "He… really did a lot of damage," she said. Then she bit her lip. "But he also helped people. Helped us."

Cisco didn't think she was entirely talking about Hartley.

"Is there really an even trade for this sort of thing?" Cisco asked, trying to shake off his odd feeling, the odd images rattling in his brain. "I don't… I don't know how much I can fix. What I'll have to just… throw away."

Caitlin nodded, not looking in his direction. "The stuff we throw away, though, that can be replaced," she said.

Cisco shoved his hands into his pockets. "What if I don't want to replace it?"

Caitlin met his gaze again. "Then we end up with a giant hole in the wall with no way to close it?"

Cisco rolled his eyes, a small smile curling on his mouth. "Are we still talking in code, or…?"

"It still kind of fits," she said, walking over to the pipeline and peering out through the shattered door. "What are you going to do? Leave STAR Labs?" She threw a look over her shoulder at that.

Cisco sighed. "No, you're right, I just…" He shook his head. "This has been a mess of a day," he said. And then he groaned. "And I still haven't had any coffee or doughnuts."

Caitlin laughed, walking to his side, and extending her arm. "Then let's get you a coffee and a doughnut, and then we'll get started on the doors."

Cisco smiled back at her, took her arm, and gladly let her lead him from the pipeline entrance.

The next time Cisco saw Doctor Wells, he was on television.

Caitlin and Cisco had been looking over the blueprints of the blast doors, looking to see if any upgrades could or should be made, when Cisco had heard the words "Doctor Harrison Wells" spoken, and looked up at the monitors.

"What?" he asked, eyes going wide, and lunged across their workstation for the remote.

Caitlin squawked. "Cisco!" she yelped, hands flying to grab the tablet that nearly crashed to the floor.

"Shhh!" Cisco said, and turned up the volume. Caitlin's eyes followed his gaze to the monitor displaying their local news, and she gasped.

Doctor Wells had just wheeled into the middle of the CCPD lobby, a small table covered in microphones sitting in front of him. There seemed to be a crowd of reporters there to watch him. Cisco could see Joe standing in the background, and wondered if Barry was there, too.

"I want to thank everyone for coming on such short notice," Doctor Wells began, and the chatter was instantly gone. "As many of you know, STAR Labs was the victim of a hacking attack late last night, and the data that the hacker retrieved had been distributed to the internet.

"Now, some have questioned the veracity of the information," Wells continued, "citing the ten-volume report the Norris Commission released following the particle accelerator's explosion. According to that report, as those brave and tenacious souls who actually read the whole thing know, the commission found that the catastrophe was caused by a chain of events that no one could have predicted. And that is not the truth."

Wells closed his eyes, and Cisco could hear the sound of cameras firing.

"The truth is," Wells continued, "I was, in fact, warned that the particle accelerator could fail."

There was a rumble of noise, and Cisco could hardly believe it. With the Norris Commission's report, Doctor Wells could have denied the leak. Some people wouldn't have believed him, but there was enough doubt to get away with it. But here he was, admitting it.

"A colleague," Wells said, adjusting his glasses, "someone I had called a friend, warned me. And I ignored them, and, in doing so, I failed this city." Wells looked around the room. "I failed all of you. I failed those who trusted me most. Today, in coming forward, I hope to move toward regaining their trust." He paused, and then nodded. "And your trust as well. Thank you."

"Doctor Wells!" a man called. "Did anyone who worked or currently works at STAR Labs know about this warning?"

Wells shook his head. "No. I and I alone take the blame.

"Doctor Wells!" a woman shouted. "Was the 'friend' you mentioned also the anonymous hacker, known as 'Your Guy'?"

"I wouldn't be comfortable making that sort of guess at this time," Wells said. "I'll leave that to the police investigation to discover."

"Doctor Wells!"

And then Cisco's phone rang. Caitlin glanced at it, wincing. Their phones had been relatively quiet in the past few hours, but every once in a while, some reporter would start calling again. Over and over.

And Cisco had hit his limit. He grabbed the phone and stabbed the answer button, snarling, "Look, I have friends in the police, and if you people don't stop calling me－"

"He loves to hear himself speak, doesn't he?"

Cisco snapped to attention, spine straightening. "Hartley," he said, stunned, and Caitlin turned to stare at him.

"I'm a little disappointed," Hartley's voice drawled. "I thought for sure you'd have put a tracker on the Expecto-No at least."

Cisco glared into space, feeling his face heat. It felt like he'd gone back in time, to when he'd been first hired and Hartley was top-dog. "Called to gloat?" he ground out.

"Hardly," Hartley said. "I've decided to return it to you. Since I doubt I'll be time-traveling anytime soon, and I really have no need for this thing."

Cisco blinked, shaking his head. "You… Wait. What's the catch?"

"Not me," Hartley said, laughter evident in his voice. "The catch is you have a time limit. Let's keep the King off the board."

Cisco opened his mouth. Shut it. His heart pounded. "There's no way I'm coming to meet you alone."

Hartley snorted. "Who said anything about meeting me? Go to the alley behind Jitters, where we so valiantly rescued Ronnie." There was a scuffing noise, and a small grunt. "While the cat's away, the rats shall play. You have twenty minutes."

And, without giving Cisco a chance to speak, Hartley hung up.

Cisco stared at the phone for several seconds, and then he looked over at Caitlin. "He wants to give us back the Expecto-No."

That had Caitlin blinking. "He wants to what?"

"Yeah, I don't get it either, but," Cisco replied, rising, "he said I only have twenty minutes to get to the alley behind Jitters, so－"

"You're not going alone!" Caitlin snapped, also jumping to her feet. "I have my car, it's faster than the van."

Cisco only took one second to think about telling her not to, and then nodded. "I'll meet you in the garage," he said, and took off running before Caitlin could reply. He left the control room, down the left hallway, and ran to the secure storage area. There was something he'd made that, if they had to face down Hartley without the Flash, Cisco wanted to have.

He'd made a device specially tuned to Hartley's dampeners, and, unless Hartley had a set that were radically different from the ones he'd worn when he'd first arrived at STAR Labs, it should still work. He'd called it the 'Dog Whistle', because, although there was a ringing noise that a person of average hearing could pick up, it would only be debilitating to Hartley and Hartley alone.

Cisco keyed in the locker code, where he'd stored the device, and quickly opened the door. As he took in the interior, though, he frowned. The small box he'd kept the device in was upside-down－someone had been in here. Someone had looked through this－

And then Cisco blushed.

Doctor Wells must've seen him putting away the Dog Whistle, Cisco realized. He must've wanted to see what Cisco had created off the clock again. If it was a weapon. If it was something that could hurt Barry.

Although, for all the guy had grumbled about Cisco not trusting Barry….

Cisco pulled the box out, turned it over in his hand, and opened the lid. The Dog Whistle was small, square, and white－very simple compared to some of Cisco's other feats. But its function was simple, and Cisco had been in a rush to build it. With a flick of his wrist, Cisco dumped the device into his palm.

And then he heard the high-whistling of the Dog Whistle, and Cisco was surprised: he didn't even have it on him.

But then Hartley started screaming, and Cisco didn't have time to be surprised.

"Hartley!" Cisco shouted, turning around, and froze.

Doctor Wells was standing in the elevator doors. He was standing.

Doctor Wells was standing.

And Hartley was still screaming, crumpled into a ball on the floor.

"Stop!" Cisco shouted, stumbling forward. His mind was rushing. He couldn't－couldn't focus. "Stop, you're hurting him!"

Wells didn't look all that moved. "Isn't that why you made this though?" he asked, holding up the Dog Whistle. "To hurt him?"

The Dog Whistle and its case clattered to the floor.

Cisco stepped back, bumping into the shelf behind him, and tried to catch his breath. His hands were shaking, the terror of the－the－whatever that was still running through him. He closed his eyes, reaching behind himself, and entangling his fingers in the cool metal grating of the shelf, and breathed.

There was something wrong with him.

Was he going crazy?

Or was it－was it something else?

Cisco thought of human beings who could now teleport, who could run faster than Mach 2, who could control the weather.

And he opened his eyes.

Don't think about it.

He had fifteen minutes to meet Hartley. Cisco flinched as he grabbed the Dog Whistle off the ground, but nothing more happened. He stared at the device in his hand, and felt urge to hurl it against a wall.

He put it in his pocket and took off running down the hallway, and didn't stop until he reached the garage.

Caitlin frowned at him as he opened the door to her sky-blue Fiat. "I was beginning to think you climbed down from the roof and took a cab."

Cisco let out a small laugh, buckling himself in. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, and took a breath.

If there was one thing to thank Doctor Wells for that day, it was his press conference: while he was off at the CCPD, the news vans in front of STAR Labs had thinned dramatically. Their escape had been met with a mere handful of people taking pictures instead of a herd of microphones and cameras.

The drive to Jitters was familiar, and not even as fast as Cisco's mad dash had been last month. The drive usually only took about fifteen minutes, but Caitlin made it in ten.

Cisco was impressed. He was also very annoyed.

"Uh, hey Barry," Cisco said once again to Barry's cellphone voicemail, "it's Cisco again. Caitlin and I are parking outside Jitters right now, so, if you want to get here before we run into Hartley, you've got about ten seconds. Bye."

Caitlin watched him from the driver's seat. "Are you ready?" she asked.

And Cisco wasn't sure. He felt for his pocket, for the Dog Whistle. He wasn't sure if he could even use it. "Are you?" Cisco asked, glancing at the time on his phone. Four minutes.

Caitlin's mouth thinned. "I want to shout at him," she said. "I want to ask him why he didn't just tell us about Doctor Wells." Then she paused, closing her eyes. "I want to go back to STAR Labs and install a television, bed, toilet, and sink into every one of the cells we have."

Cisco sighed, and his hand fell away from his pocket. "Yeah," he muttered. "Me, too."

Together, they exited her Fiat and walked around the entrance to Jitters, slipping into the alley that, just a few weeks ago, had been a mess of fallen soldiers and shattered glass. Now, it just held garbage cans and stacks of boxes.

"Hartley?" Caitlin called, like he were a missing cat instead of a meta-human who'd escaped from their homemade prison. "Hartley, are you here?"

There was no response, and Caitlin met Cisco's gaze. Cautiously, they stepped into the alley. They peered around every box and can, as if Hartley was just hiding there, waiting to pop out and scare them.

"I swear," Cisco grumbled, as they approached the end of the alley, "if Hartley just prank called us…."

"Shh!" Caitlin suddenly said, drawing up short.

Cisco wrinkled his nose, turning to her. "What－?"

"Do you hear that?" Caitlin asked. "It sounds like…" She paused. "Is that the Harry Potter theme?"

Cisco blinked, listening. And then he could hear it too, and he raised his eyes to the cloud-dotted sky. "He's a troll. He's such a troll."

Caitlin trotted ahead of him, towards the very end of the alley, where a single cardboard box was waiting. Cisco followed after her, and the song got louder.

Caitlin hesitated, just a few feet from the box, where the music was obviously coming from. She glanced back at Cisco, biting her lip.

"Doctor Wells would say it's trapped," she said. But there wasn't that sort of fear in her eyes.

And it wasn't in Cisco, either.

He gestured to the box. "Do you think it's trapped?"

Caitlin smiled. "No," she said.

Cisco grinned back. "Me neither," he declared, and reached for the top of the box. Beside him, Caitlin grabbed the other end, and, together, they pulled it open.

Unsurprisingly, there was no kaboom.

There was, instead, a small speaker attached to a cube of electronics, and Cisco would bet anything that's what held the music file. The device had a large green button, though, with the power symbol drawn on it.

Beside it, looking unharmed, was the Expecto-No.

Cisco reached over and simply pressed the button, which clicked. The music stopped, and the small cube sparked once, dramatically, and then did no more.

Cisco rolled his eyes and picked up the Expecto-No. "We know your deep-dark secret, Hartley," he muttered, clutching the Expecto-No to his chest. "You actually care."

With that said, he reached into his pocket, ignoring the confused look Caitlin was sending him, grabbed the Dog Whistle, and dropped it onto the pavement.

And Cisco smashed it beneath his heel.

Hartley let out a long, exhausted breath as he closed the wooden door to his current hiding place: a private dock owned by his parents. Or, rather, the wooden shack built around the dock, to protect their Coast City-based boats and jet skis.

Because that's where Hartley was: Coast City.

It'd been a week since he'd blown his way out of STAR Labs. A week since he'd gone into his old hideaway－one of his parents many apartments－and gathered his supplies, put in his dampeners (such a relief) and had left the city.

After his call to Cisco.

He'd zigzagged across the country, paranoid that Wells would be after him in seconds. Once he heard Wells call him 'friend' on live television, Hartley had known his time was up and he'd gotten on the next bus out of town, using up precious cash. He'd spent almost all of it on his cross-country trip, mostly on bus fair and food.

He hadn't been lying to Caitlin when he told her that there were worse places than under bridges to sleep.

And now, at least, he could rest. With a roof over his head, and the relatively soothing sound of water lapping against the docks beside him.

First, though, there was something he had to do.

Hartley pulled out his burner phone, which he'd bought before his trip, and called his first speed dial contact.

The phone rang twice.

"Uh, who is this?"

Hartley smirked, allowing himself to slide down the door, and rested on the hard floor. "Is the romance dead so soon, Barry?"

"Har－!" Barry nearly yelped into the phone, and Hartley could hear the background chatter die down. "Uh, sorry, guys, I gotta take this."

"Everything alright?" Joe's low voice rumbled through.

"It's Hartley," Barry whispered back.

There was a long pause. "Oh," Joe said. "You better fill him in."

"I will, I just… I'll be right back,"Barry said.

Hartley closed his eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with him. "Am I interrupting something?"

"It can wait," Barry replied. "Where have you been? I've been trying to find you for days."

Hartley huffed out a laugh. "Do me a favor," he said. "If you do ever manage to find me, drop me a line. That means Wells is already on my ass."

Barry grumbled. "I found you pretty easy the first time."

Hartley raised his eyebrows at the white boat bobbing in the water in front of him. "Does it count if you then help me get away?"

Hartley had never felt something so good as the cool, night air on his face. The view of something other than glass walls and grey floors was amazing, too: a dark sky above the city skyline, cars driving by on the highway, and not a wheelchair in sight.

It would have been perfect, if not for the wretched, unending screaming in his ears.

That was the first thing to deal with: get to his lab and put in his spare dampeners. After that, he had to get out of the city as fast as he could. With that single focus, Hartley flipped the pillowcase, holding both his left sonic glove and the Expecto-No, over his shoulder. He was wearing the right glove, trigger at the ready. His left hand clutched the end of the pillowcase in his three working fingers.

Then he marched on, one foot in front of the other, following the sidewalk away from STAR Labs and down the highway. He'd dragged himself down this path before, almost a year ago, ears bloody and effectively deaf, all the way to his apartment.

He had a little further to go, this time.

Hartley made it into the downtown part of Central City, where the highway was out of sight and the shops were close together, before he had to rest. His focus was shot: he couldn't keep track of the cars, and dodging traffic in the middle of the night, wearing all black? Not a smart idea.

Hartley slipped down an alley, leaning against the wall. The pain was increasing, or Hartley was just so tired that his tolerance was lower. But he could do it. He'd done it before. He wasn't going back.

And then he heard it: a high-pitched whistling, a thrum like a hummingbird, and the crackle of electricity.

The sounds crashed into Hartley, his hearing zeroing in on it as a known threat. He let the pillowcase slowly slide to the ground and, panic making his heart race louder, he raised his gloved right hand. A flick of his wrist and the lights glowed green.

'How did they find me so quickly?' he thought, and the red blur he instantly recognized as the Flash blitzed down the alley Hartley had chosen to rest in. 'I disabled the alarms!'

"Stop!" Hartley shouted, his own voice pounding in his ears. The Flash froze, raising his red hands－a counter to Hartley's green. "Don't come any closer, Flash."

Hartley was shaking.

He could see that the Flash was speaking, but Hartley couldn't hear him－the thrum of the Flash's heart was too loud and the low whining of his own gloves was blocking out all other noise that made it past the shrieking pain.

He missed Rick Astley.

"I can't," Hartley started, stopped. "I can't hear you."

The Flash paused, frowned, and then gestured at Hartley's ears.

Hartley frowned back.

"Didn't you check the security cameras?" he asked. "I used my dampeners to escape. Where did you think the mess came from?"

The Flash's eyes narrowed, but it was hard to tell with the mask. He took a step closer, and Hartley twitched his hand. The Flash froze.

"Don't test me," Hartley snapped. "I don't want to hurt you. But I can't go back there."

The Flash took one of his hands and pressed it to his chin. Slowly, he spoke, his voice lost, but Hartley tried to read his lips.

'I no,' Hartley read, or thought he read. He'd never bothered with sign language or lip reading: he wasn't deaf. He had the opposite problem.

This had obviously been the wrong move.

"'I no'?" Hartley asked, confused, until he said it aloud. "You know? You know!"

What did he know? That Hartley couldn't go back? Or that he didn't want to?

The Flash nodded, taking another step closer. Hartley tensed, but allowed it. Then the Flash touched his own chest, pointed at Hartley, and then used his fingers to walk across his palm.

Charades. Joy.

Hartley had to learn lip-reading.

"I'm sorry to disappoint," he said to the Flash's attempts at communication, "but my family was more into billiards and golf."

The Flash leveled Hartley the most blankest of faces, and he finally threw his hands into the air, rolling his eyes, and then was gone.

And so was Hartley.

The last time the Flash had grabbed him and run, Hartley had been wearing dampeners. This time, though, he clamped his hands over his ears, to protect them, to smother the noise, because the universe was shattering around him: glass shards on chalkboards, Styrofoam-on-Styrofoam, fire alarms that never ended.

And then it stopped, and Hartley was released. He immediately collapsed to his knees, barely able to focus on the muddy brown linoleum under his hands. The world tore at his ears.

And then someone put headphones on his head, and Lady Gaga was asking about riding on his disco stick. Which.

No.

"Lady Gaga?" Hartley rasped, even as he reached up and grasped the headphones, holding them to his ears.

The Flash was on his knees in front of Hartley, hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady. The Flash let out a laugh at that, mouth quirking. "Lady Gaga is amazing."

"Not arguing," Hartley said, and, even if he hadn't liked some of her songs before, he'd certainly be a fan now, with her beat in his ear quieting the tinnitus.

The Flash swallowed. "Are you okay?"

Hartley closed his eyes, and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Let's just not do that again."

The Flash helped Hartley to his feet, and Hartley took in the bare walls of wood, brick, and cement surrounding the large space they were in. They appeared to be in a laboratory, from the shelves of chemicals lining the room. The doorway was wide open and didn't actually appear to have a door, and there were shelves of bagged items along the right wall. He kept turning, catching sight of windows in the corner of his eye.

And then he froze.

Leaning against the lone desk in the middle of the room, was Detective Joe West.

Hartley took a step back－was he getting arrested－and Joe leaned forward, raising his hands. "Whoa, hey, nothing's happening."

Hartley looked over at the Flash, and immediately whipped his head away, nearly dislodging the headphones.

The Flash had taken his mask off.

"Hartley, it's okay," the Flash said.

Hartley grit his teeth, because the sight of bright green eyes and short brown hair was not fading from his memory. "You don't understand," Hartley said, and then slowly turned back to the Flash. The cowl was still down, and Hartley just sighed, allowing himself to take in the rather attractive face. "Now that I know, Wells will absolutely kill me."

Although, looking the Flash's face over, he still had no idea who this man was. Besides the fact that his name was probably Barry and his father probably worked in a prison.

Joe nodded, moving into Hartley's line of sight. "That's why I told Barry he should break you out," he said, and Hartley stared.

"You," he started, turning to the Flash－confirmed as Barry－mouth working. "You were going to break me out?"

Barry snorted. "Turns out that I didn't need to."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Barry said, looking at the detective. "Hartley'd already broken himself out."

That earned Hartley a wide-eyed look, and Hartley crossed his arms. He felt off-balance, out of sorts. He was missing something. "It seems I had the right idea, if the police officer and the vigilante thought it was the right time."

Barry's face pinched. "Yeah," he said, darkly. "Wells isn't who I thought we was."

Hartley couldn't help the startled laugh that burst out of him, and gained a glare from Barry. Hartley reached up with his left hand, rubbing his eyes with his three free fingers.

"You are preaching to the choir, Flash," Hartley said, pulling his hand away and meeting his eyes. "I figured that out when Wells fired me."

Joe leaned forward. "He fired you?" he said. "Wells claimed you left due to a disagreement."

Hartley laughed again, feeling inches away from a breakdown. "Yes," he said, tone high, "yes, that's a word for it. Disagreement." He waved off their curious looks, and instead gave them one of his own. "But why have you changed your opinion?"

Barry glanced at Joe and then met Hartley's look. "Because there was a reporter who'd been looking into Wells, said he had some proof that Wells had murdered Simon Stagg," Barry said.

Hartley frowned. "Is the reporter dead?"

Joe shook his head. "He's missing, and his work computer is toast."

"Then he's dead."

Barry nodded. "After that, I just… it clicked."

"And," Joe continued, "once Barry came to me, I convinced him that you might be able to help us."

Hartley raised his eyebrows. "What, kill Wells?" he asked. "Because I can help with that, certainly."

Barry shook his head. "No, it's," he started, jaw clenching. "My father is in prison for my mother's murder," he said, and Hartley blinked.

"I was wrong," he muttered, and shook his head when Barry's brow furrowed. "Continue."

"Yeah, uh, but my dad was framed," Barry said. "My mother was killed by another speedster, calling himself the Reverse Flash."

Hartley's eyes grew wide. "And you think Wells is working with him."

Barry sighed. "Yeah."

Hartley rubbed his chin. "I'm sorry to say I don't have any information about your mother's murder," he said, and Barry's eyes closed. "But," Hartley continued, "I can prove that Wells was informed that the particle accelerator could explode before he turned it on."

Joe's eyes grew wide. "You can?"

Barry's jaw dropped. "He did?"

Hartley nodded. "I have the files, and I can show the work," he said.

"How did you hear about this?" Joe asked.

Hartley's mouth thinned, and he closed his eyes. "Because I'm the one who warned him."

For a moment, only Lady Gaga's plea to be shown teeth was the only noise. Then Barry shook his head. "You－you knew－"

"It was unsubstantiated claims without access to the files," Hartley said, but couldn't meet either of their gazes. "Wells fired me the moment after I confronted him about it. Said he'd ruin me if I tried to go public with the information." Hartley laughed, and then gestured to his ears. "He got me anyway."

Barry shook his head. "But, why－why didn't you－" He stopped, face flushing. "You should've tried harder."

Hartley rounded on him, irritation igniting off his exhaustion. "I did," he snarled, leaning into Barry's space. "I took what information I could and sent it to the head of the protest movement. I couldn't put my name to it, or else it would've been brushed off as an ex-employee trying to get even."

Barry stared at him, eyes widening. "The night, when the accelerator exploded," he said, and Hartley stiffened. Barry shook his head. "You said you saw Stein. You were there protesting."

Hartley let out a huff. "And so I was," he said, nodding his head. A smirk rose onto his lips. "It worked out so well for all of us."

Hartley had actually gone with the intent to sabotage the particle accelerator. But the security had been too good, and the crowd had been so large. In the end, he'd shuffled in with the protesters to watch.

And he'd suffered with them.

Joe, who'd been silent during their exchange, finally spoke up. "Is it possible that Wells wanted the accelerator to explode?"

Hartley frowned, looking over at Joe. "I don't know," he said, but, honestly, he'd believe Wells was capable of anything. "But there is something else."

Joe nodded at him, and Hartley took a breath.

"I have no proof, no evidence, only what I saw," Hartley said, keeping Joe's gaze. "Wells doesn't need his wheelchair."

Joe's eyes widened. "He doesn't－"

"The night I attacked him, in his home," Hartley said. "I saw him standing."

Joe stepped forward. "What else did you see?"

Hartley shook his head. "I kept my distance," he said. "But he all but admitted to me."

Barry sputtered. "He－what?"

"And then he threatened to paralyze me, so," Hartley drawled, but he glanced over his shoulder, as if Wells was going to walk through the doorway.

Joe blew out a breath. "I'd offer you police protection, but, if he and the Reverse-Flash are working together…."

Hartley nodded. "My best chance is to get out of the city," he said. "As soon as possible. The alarms are disabled at STAR Labs, so, until someone goes to see the pipeline, I won't be discovered missing."

Barry nodded. "I can get you out of the city," he offered.

Hartley sighed. "I need to get to where I was staying before…." He gestured around himself. "It has an extra set of dampeners, my laptop, and some cash."

Joe nodded, looking over at Barry, and then met Hartley's gaze. "If you need more money, you just give us a call, alright?"

That stopped Hartley cold. "What?"

Joe raised his eyebrows. "You're going on the run from a powerful man with powerful friends," he said. "If you need help, you call."

Hartley swallowed. There was a small part of him, full of pride stuffed into him by his parents and their expectations, that wanted to turn him down. The rest of him, however, wanted to live.

"I will," Hartley said, and turned to Barry. "If I give you an address, will you know where to find it?"

Barry nodded, moving to pull up his cowl. Then he paused. "Uh, before we go," he said, and extended his hand. "I'm Barry Allen."

Something in Hartley warmed as he took Barry's hand with his right, still wearing the sonic glove. "It's good to finally meet you, Barry."

Barry grinned. "Let's get you out of here, Hartley."

"It totally counts," Barry replied, firmly.

"Anyway," Hartley drawled, "how did Cisco like my gift?"

"You mean the thing you stole and then returned?" Barry snorted. "He loves it. He's very grateful. Why did you take it in the first place?"

Hartley thought of his laptop, of the things he'd been working on while traveling from bus stop to bus stop. "Reasons."

"Fine, fine,", Barry said. There was a moment a silence, and then Barry took in a breath. "They're both still so angry at him," he said, quietly. "What if he thinks they know? What if he－"

"He won't," Hartley said, sharp. "Barry, he won't. His ego won't let him think he's been discovered. Why do you think he just let me walk away the first time?" Because he'd believed Hartley could be silenced without death. Wells knew better, now.

"But they're trapped there," Barry said. "I can't make them leave, and can't let them know. So they have to keep working with him."

Hartley raised his eyes to the wooden ceiling. What was he supposed to say? That it wasn't dangerous? "You're right," Hartley said, simply. "But it's up to you how you deal with it. Keep them in the dark and hope that, while they're angry they don't stumble across something. Or－"

Barry sighed. "Or tell them," he said. "And make sure they hide it."

"It's your choice," Hartley said. "You have time. Don't rush. Wells has been playing this game for fifteen years, Barry. He'll wait. You have to wait, too." When Barry's silence lingered, Hartley rolled his shoulders. "Look, I called to check in, and let you know I've reached a safe space to hide out in for awhile. I－"

"Oh God," Barry suddenly said, voice tense. "I can't believe I almost forgot. Hartley, listen."

Hartley sat up. "Barry?"

"Wells is the Reverse Flash," Barry said, and Hartley's heart stuttered. Barry continued. "He's a speedster, like me."

Suddenly, Hartley felt wide-awake. "So," he started, voice choked, "so, I guess distance doesn't matter so much."

"Joe and I have put aside some money if you need it, okay," Barry said, quickly. "You just say the word."

Hartley had only twenty dollars in fives and ones in his pocket. "Barry," he murmured, "I'm saying the word."

"Alright," Barry said. "We can fix that."

It was the only thing they could fix, Hartley thought, and let his head fall against the wood.

Translations:

Ese pendejo
Spanish; That jerk

Cisco's t-shirt is this one: product/6044/Free_Hugs / "Free Hugs" from Threadless.

This was a weird chapter to write, because there is utterly nothing from the episode itself actually in it. Which is a shame, because it's one of my favorite episodes. But I hope you enjoyed this one, nonetheless. Again, thank you for your patience, and your further patience for the next chapter. Fingers crossed for a great season finale! (Will we actually see Hartley this time? Who knows!)