Chapter 3 – Making Amends

His feet soaked the wooden board as he trod toward the bar. Heads raised and eyes soared at his direction, but he didn't pay them mind. He climbed on a tall stool and placed his elbows on top of the counter. The occasional drip-drop came from his wet clothes. He buried his face in his palms and rubbed his temples in one movement, then folded his arms. There was a stack of menus on his right hand. He grabbed one to read.

A shadow darkened the surface of the counter. Barry frowned as he read the catalog.

"Pizza Cheeseburger? You guys actually serve that?" he asked, with half enthusiasm and half disbelief, drawing his gaze upwards.

Cisco's brows were pulled downwards in a sullen expression. The light wavered in Barry's eyes, but he kept his cool demeanor. He summoned some hope that he could convince this man into some friendly chit-chat.

The bartender rolled his eyes. "No, we just have it on the menu to keep people intrigued," he answered in a leveled tone. Barry squinted, confusion washing his features. Then, as Cisco's face remained unchanged, he realized he was being sarcastic.

"Oh," he said and lowered his eyes.

Maybe not.

"Hey man, listen," Cisco started. "If you expect some man-bonding between us"—he waved his hand in the air—"over how difficult women are... Forget it, cause it ain't happening. Caitlin is like a sister to me and she doesn't deserve people treating her like you did. Now I'm gonna let you stay here until you dry up, but after that I never want to see you again, clear?" He held his gaze firmly.

Barry nodded.

Cisco patted him on the shoulder. A little too hard. "Glad we understand each other," he said and retreated to the kitchen.

Barry sighed and looked toward the clock on the wall beside the door. It was darkening outside. So much for an attempt at chit-chat. He hunched his shoulders and tucked his face inwards.

A thud came on the counter. Barry raised his gaze, bracing himself for a second round of glares.

Harry pushed a glass toward him and unscrewed a bottle of whiskey, a stoic expression written over his face.

"Bad day?" he asked.

Barry stared between him and the glass, his expression overcoming confusion.

"Uh… Kind off," he said finally.

"Here, this will help." He filled his glass and nudged his chin. Barry cast a wary glance at the beverage.

"Drink," Harry encouraged. "It's not poisoned."

Barry made a short huff with his nose and accepted the drink.

"Thanks," he said. As he swallowed the liquid, he considered Harry and remembered Jesse from last night.

"Hey, what's the issue between you and your daughter?" he asked.

Harry tilted his head in question.

"I mean," Barry clarified, "she can't be that mad that you just want to protect her. My step-dad, detective Joe West, was always over-protective of his daughter, and even though it annoys her sometimes, she still loves him dearly."

Harry nodded, then held his gaze. He was silent for a moment, as if he was considering his answer. Barry tensed a little. "I killed a man once, trying to protect her," Harry said.

"You- Oh." Barry strained to contain his reaction. "So it was self-defense," he reasoned.

Harry squinted. "Not exactly. I mean, it was at first, but I guess, anger consumed me." He shrugged.

Barry shifted his weight uncomfortably. Then he realized and sighed. "Hey, it's okay, you don't have to intimidate me. I only see Jesse as a friend," he reassured him with a smile.

Harry knit his eyebrows. "I didn't think otherwise," he said.

Barry's laugh faded. Harry tilted his head.

"Are you interested in my daughter?" Harry enquired, a hint of threat in his tone.

"No!" Barry said.

Harry gave him a fake smile. "Good."

Barry focused on his drink and widened his eyes.

"But you are her friend, right?" Harry said suddenly.

Barry looked up, not sure how to answer. "Yyess...?"

Harry nodded to himself, then leaned on the counter and waved at him to come closer. Barry proceeded with caution.

"How about we make a deal?" he asked him. "You'll help me fix things with Jesse, and I'll do the same for you with Caitlin and Cisco. Deal?"

Barry narrowed his eyes, trying to second-guess his intentions.

"You want me to talk to your daughter about you?" Barry asked, confused.

"Yes."

Barry searched the man's blue eyes. There was a hint of desperation shimmering underneath his gaze. It must have been true suffering for him to be at odds with his daughter.

Barry nodded and was about to seal the agreement with a hand shake, but Cisco returned right that moment. His eyebrows curled up in protest as he considered the two of them. He glared at Harry.

"Why did you serve him? He's not welcome here," he complained.

"Last time I checked I owned this place," Harry defended.

"Oh yeah? Last time I checked you needed me to run this place." The two argued face to face.

"I just offered him a drink! Can't you see his condition?"

Barry inspected himself.

"So what? I don't see you serving homeless people," Cisco complained.

"He's not... homeless."

"Guys, I'm right here," Barry muttered.

They both turned their heads. "Shut up!"

Barry raised his palm and lifted his drink.

"Nah uh uh, no drink for you," Cisco said. Barry stopped his movement in midair, uncertain if the bartender was being serious. Cisco waved his palm. "Now hand that glass over," he pressed.

Barry gave it to him and Cisco started educating him on how his actions were doomed from the start, because the same thing had happened in a movie? Barry stopped listening after a point, because Harry behind was signing at him with mouth and hands. Barry read something like:

Get outta here…

But Harry wasn't the type of man to slur his speech and he held his fist in front of his mouth, instead of pointing to the door. Barry tried again.

Care... okay

What?

Harry pointed at his fist. It looked as if he was holding a microphone.

Oh. Karaoke.

Harry rolled his finger forward and then pointed it downwards. Tomorrow. Here.

"—Hey, hey, hey! I'm talking to you. Where are you looking at?" Cisco demanded his attention. He followed Barry's gaze behind his back. Harry scurried to fix his features, but it was too late. Cisco placed his fists at either side of his waist and shook his head.

"How mature," he said. He faced Barry. "You. Out."

Barry slid off his seat and left some dollars on the counter. He hovered there for a while, searching for something to say. But nothing sounded right. In the end, he just left.

Luckily, the storm had abated, though he hadn't completely dried up.

Karaoke, he thought, as he roamed the streets.

Did Harry actually suggest he should sing?

The next morning

The phone in Cisco's apartment chimed. He groaned and crushed the pillow onto his head. The call went to voice mail.

Hey Cisco, it's Caitlin. I need a huge favor. I am going to head out of Central City this evening. I know how much you hate Hartley, but could you please ask him to replace me for tonight's event? It's really important, otherwise I swear I wouldn't ask.

Cisco pulled the pillow off his face and squinted at the ceiling, a high note of complaint escaping his throat.

Later that night

The beep of the car echoed in the street. Caitlin threw the keys in her bag and pulled the sides of her coat closed to protect her from the evening chill. She looked between the other vehicles in the parking lot and her car which was parked at the side of the pavement. She shrugged. Finding parking space was a privilege these days. Her eyes fixed on the restaurant across the lot and lingered there for a while. She took a fortifying breath and started pacing. The clack of her heels filled the ambience.

The furrow between her brows deepened as she reached the entrance. God, why was she acting as if she was preparing for the SAT examinations? She was only meeting up with her mother. (After years of no see.) If anyone should be anxious, that was Carla Tannhauser. Not her.

She fixed her jaw, installing her guard, and pushed the door inside. The restaurant was dressed in elegancy, from the golden chandeliers to the staff's formal attires. A hostess approached her as soon as she entered.

"Hi, there's a reservation on the name Tannhauser?" Caitlin said.

The woman's eyes brightened. "Doctor Tannhauser-yes. This way, ma'am. May I have your coat?"

Caitlin handed over her coat, trying not to roll her eyes at her mother's recognizability. Her gaze drifted as she followed the woman to their table. The majority of the customers were high-class members of society—doctors, college professors and politicians. She cringed at the formality of it all. She could see Carla choosing this place. It was practically her signature. Cold and distant.

Carla wasn't there yet. Caitlin settled at her table-a richly lit place near the window—and ordered a cup of tea. As the waiter walked away, she lifted her sleeve slightly and checked her watch. 8:01 pm. A one-minute delay wasn't much of an incentive to worry, but Caitlin's stomach folded in a knot nonetheless.

Half an hour later she was staring at an empty cup and an equally empty seat. She twirled the tea spoon in her fingers, as she shifted her gaze outside the window. A headache had started crawling up her skull. Emotions boiled inside her, as if in a chemical reaction.

Everything is going to be okay. You will be fine.

The words came uninvited. She recalled the strength with which they were uttered; green eyes pouring hope into her empty soul. Hope she'd held on to for a while, until it had shattered. Just as fast as it had appeared. She didn't know how this memory was relevant right now, but somehow it brought the chemical reaction to a peak.

The tea spoon landed on the saucer with a silverware rattle.

…

She walked out of the restaurant, straining to keep her calm. In fact, she was putting such effort into it that she only noticed the empty spot where her car used to be when she stepped on it. She twirled, scouring the territory with her eyes, until her gaze fell on a note stuck on the side of the pavement. It had a bill and a number written over it.

Oh no.

"What do you mean she's not coming?" Harry fretted, lifting the barrier to get behind the counter.

"I mean she's not coming, Harry, what other interpretation could you make from my words?" Cisco answered.

"But what about-?"

Cisco eased his palm down. "Relax, I have it all covered. Hartley is taking on the mantle."

"Hart—" Harry closed his eyes and huffed through his nose. "And I'm hearing of this now because…?" he demanded.

Cisco gave him a questioning look. "Since when do you want me to report to you? I thought it was boring and that you trusted my judgement?" he reminded him.

"That—" Breath. "You, I trust. Hartley? Not."

As if synchronized, Hartley barged through the door, a smug expression on his face. He flopped his backpack on the counter and grinned at Cisco.

"So, looks like you need me after all."

Cisco made a mocking expression.

Harry pressed his lips in annoyance, then tried to cover it with a fake smile. He whirled on his feet and rolled his eyes. He needed to inform Barry, he thought as he retreated to the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight he pulled out his phone and started dialing.

A male voice answered at the first ring. "CCPD, what's your emergency?"

"Hi, could I speak to detective Joe West, please?"

Cisco appeared at the threshold, waving his hand, while holding a cell phone on the other.

"Uhh, actually, wait a moment, please," Harry asked and covered his phone with his palm.

"What?" he asked Cisco.

"I have good news and bad news," Cisco said reluctantly.

"I'm listening."

"Caitlin's decided to come after all..."

"And the bad news?"

Cisco hesitated. "Her car got confiscated."

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened them, a new idea had crawled up his mind.

"Tell her I'm sending a friend to pick her up."

Caitlin strolled up and down the street until she decided to sit on a bench. Most of the parking lot had emptied out now. She buried her hands in the pockets of her coat and curled further into the shadows. As the reality of her situation threatened to sink in, she tried to distract herself with mathematics.

She was twenty miles far from the city. That was half an hour by car or twenty minutes on a motorcycle. Adding the ten-minute road trip to Starball, she would be at her destination in one hour at best. That was, if Harry's friend was fast enough.

She huffed, no longer able to withhold the chaos building in her chest. First that guy at the bar, then her mother, now the car. And on top of all, Ronnie's absence. She sealed her lips over a cry that almost escaped. She was a doctor, she reminded herself. She could easily detach herself from emotion for the sake of being practical. And whoever came to get her wouldn't find a damsel in distress. They would find a reasonable woman who just had a misfortune.

She waited and waited, turning her head each time she heard the distant engine of a car.

Fifteen minutes later a motorcycle whirred and stopped right in front of her. She bounced on her feet and eyed the driver with caution. He was wearing a helmet-a scarlet helmet with the insignia of a lightning bolt on its side. Weird, she thought.

"Caitlin Snow?" asked a muffled voice. There was a familiar ring to it, but she couldn't place it.

She took a moment to recover from her shock. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the day, maybe the waiting had made her desperate of a home, but there was something utterly comforting in the sight of the motorcyclist and his peculiar helmet. Magical, almost. She had promised she wouldn't allow herself to feel like a helpless woman, but already she was feeling as if she was being saved.

She nodded slowly.

"Right. Hop on," he nudged his head toward the seat behind him, then bent a little and took another helmet from between his feet. He handed it to her.

She took it reluctantly. It was a deep midnight blue color. She tucked her hair behind her ears and passed the helmet on her head. She was still bewildered as she pressed a shaky hand on the stranger's shoulder and mounted behind him. His scent flooded her nostrils and her pulse accelerated. It was as if he emitted a sort of whimsical energy that captivated her. Chemistry, that was the word, she thought. Her reaction confused her. Then she reasoned that it was probably the adrenaline of the forthcoming ride.

"Are you set?" the man asked.

She carefully passed her arms around his waist and wound her fingers together, avoiding connection between their bodies. She felt him stiffen at her touch.

"Yes," she answered steadily.

She wondered whether she should hold on his shoulders instead, but right then he kicked the engine into start.

"Hold on tight!" he shouted.

And then she was flying, the wind blowing into her hair. She gripped his waist tighter and she felt him stiffen a little more. Everything around her turned into a blur. The adrenaline washed all the pain away. And in that moment, as she bathed into the cold air, she was happy. She closed her eyes and smiled with relief.

The ride was over before she knew it. In the end it had only taken her half an hour. She climbed off the motorcycle, cheeks flushed and hair messed up. She stared at her driver curiously, as she returned the helmet.

"Thank you," she breathed.

"No problem," he answered. He kicked the pedal again and rode off, sending a breeze on her face.

She realized he'd never told her his name.

So mysterious.

"It looks we're not going to need you after all, Hartley," Cisco said with a self-satisfied smile.

Hartley caught the drum sticks he was juggling in the air and looked at Cisco, then at Caitlin. He nodded to himself, his lips twisting in loathing.

"You guys like playing with me, don't you?" he said.

"I'm sorry, Hartley," Caitlin apologized. "I didn't mean to put you in trouble."

Hartley waved his head from side to side, then held her gaze. "Guess what. I don't believe you," he spat and turned his back. He gathered his things from the booth and walked out of sight.

Caitlin gave Cisco a guilty look.

"Hey, don't worry about him. He's a dick anyway," Cisco comforted her.

She nodded.

"Let the karaoke party begin, baby!" Cisco cheered.

Caitlin smiled and took her position at the booth.

The crowd cheered and cackled as the last singer voiced the ending lyrics of 'Wrecking Ball'. Caitlin had covered her eyes, experiencing second-hand embarrassment. It was past midnight, which meant she could finally go home. She heaved a sigh of relief and started turning off the sound system.

Harry emerged from the pile of crowds, hurrying toward her. Caitlin froze and waited for him to approach.

"We have another request!" he shouted in her ear.

Caitlin sighed, but listened to the name of the song anyway. She searched through a pile of discs, until she found the right one. As the first calm, melodic notes filled the air, the crowd hushed and a lean guy hopped on the stage. He was wearing a loose shirt and jeans... A red leather band was wound around the middle of his head. Caitlin perked an eyebrow, then froze as she noticed the insignia on the side. A lightning bolt. And it wasn't actually a band, it was a mask.

The boy held the microphone with both his hands and hunched over his shoulders. He didn't read the screen. Instead, as his voice touched the first lyrics, his gaze flew over the crowd and landed directly on hers. Her breath caught. She swore she almost heard her heart shudder to a stop. Because she recognized those eyes. She recognized them, but she couldn't react to them, because his voice enchanted her. And the lyrics... the lyrics were...

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry

You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you

Tell you I need you

Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets

And ask me your questions

Oh, let's go back to the start

Running in circles

Coming up tails

Heads on a science apart

Nobody said it was easy

It's such a shame for us to part

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said it would be this hard

Oh, take me back to the start

Ohhhh

Caitlin let the music fade off, so his voice only remained. Bare and lonely. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Ohhhhh...

There was quiet from the crowd for a while. Then, slowly, everyone erupted in applause and whistles. The boy opened his eyes and slid off his mask, always staring at her. But she already knew who he was.

The mysterious motorcyclist.

Barry Allen.

A/N: Again, I am overwhelmed by your sweet comments. Thank you!

The song Barry sang is the 'The Scientist' by Coldplay. It was difficult to find the right song for this, because all apology songs are about intimate lovers (omg). Anyway, I hope you found it as fitting as I did! (Also, I hope you actually imagined Barry and not Sebastian Smythe singing it.)