Chapter Text
“You!”
Felicity pointed a flabbergasted finger at Dr. Harrison Wells.
Wells simply huffed and rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.” He raised his hands in a mock ‘surrender’ gesture. “I’m not—”
But Oliver was already moving. In the blink of an eye his bow was in hand, an arrow was knocked, and he drew back the drawstring.
“No wait!” Cisco shouted as he tried to grab Oliver’s arm.
But it was too late; the arrow was already flying. Only instead of sinking directly into Wells’ heart, Cisco had just managed to knock the arrow off course enough to lodge itself into its target’s left arm instead.
The cortex erupted into chaos.
Dr. Wells let out a cry through gritted teeth as he fell to his knees and gripped the arrow embedded in his arm.
Oliver and Felicity were shouting variations of “How is he alive!?” and “What the hell is he doing here!?” “Seriously, what the hell!”
Caitlin rushed to the injured Dr. Wells.
Oliver prepped another arrow.
The cacophony of sounds was only subdued when Cisco screamed at the top of his lungs, “ENOUGH!”
He slowly positioned himself between the drawn bow and Dr. Wells. “Let’s just… put the pointy objects away…” he said cautiously as he gently pushed the tip of the arrow down and away. “If you guys can just trust us for like two seconds and help get Harry here,” he jerked a thumb at Wells, “down to medical, I think it’s time you guys heard that long story.”
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The five of them managed to make it down to the infirmary without any more violent outbursts, although Oliver refused point-blank to leave his bow and quiver behind. More than once Felicity had to suppress the urge to grab a couple arrows herself and shove them into Wells’ eye sockets.
Once they’d settled the injured man in to the nearest exam chair, Caitlin took a good look at the arrow still sticking out of Wells’ arm. “Normally, it would be much better to push the arrow through, but it looks like we won’t be able to do that here. Not without running into the humerus and potentially damaging the connection to the intertubercular sulcus. So we’re going to have to pull it out and it will probably hurt.” She tried to find the best way to grip the arrow as close to the tip as possible without jostling the wound. “A lot.” Caitlin added as an afterthought. “Sorry.”
Oliver, looming behind them, crossed his arms defensively. “I’m not.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Oliver, can you just make yourself useful and hold him still. I need to make this as clean as possible.”
Oliver grunted, but did as she asked. Although, his grip on Well’s shoulders was probably a little more bruising than strictly necessary.
“Oliver?” Wells asked coolly. “As in Oliver Queen? I take it you are this world’s version of the Green Arrow.” The eerily even tone of his voice gave Felicity the heebie-jeebies.
Oliver’s grip tightened even further. “What the hell are you playing at? Don’t think that I won’t jump at the chance to stick another arrow in you.”
“Oh, I’m not playing at anything.” Wells continued. Only a brief tightening of his lips gave any indication that he was in pain at all. “I merely find it intriguing: the similarities and differences between our worlds. For instance, on this earth it appears you survived to become the hooded vigilante, but on my earth it was your father.”
Before Oliver could respond, Caitlin yanked the arrow straight out and quickly pressed a wad of gauze firmly on the wound. Aside from a brief sharp hiss and one tiny trickle of sweat on his forehead, Wells gave no indication that the whole ordeal was anything more than a minor inconvenience.
“What do you mean?” Felicity asked when Oliver seemed too stunned to speak. “Your earth?”
“Ramon. Perhaps you’d care to educate your guests.” Well clipped. “Preferably before someone shoots me. Again.” He added darkly.
Cisco clapped his hands together. “Right! Uh…Like I said, it’s kind of a long story. You might want to sit down.”
They did, while Cisco started to pace a couple steps in each direction. “Where to start where to start? Damn, where’s Dr. Stein when you need him?” He stopped abruptly. “Actually,” he made towards another door leading away from the central cortex. “Instead of telling you, why don’t I show you.” He motioned for them to follow. “Come on! We’re gonna need a few whiteboards too.”
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Thirty minutes later and the chamber within the depth of S.T.A.R. Labs contained the following: one out of breath mechanical engineer; two very confused members of Team Arrow; and three white boards covered with a plethora of diagrams, squiggly lines, stick figures, and swirls.
Oh yeah. And one big-ass portal.
Or as Cisco clarified: one big-ass interdimensional breach.
“Soooo…” Felicity finally said. “Our Wells, was never actually Wells?”
Cisco nodded, still out of breath. “Right.”
“And so this Wells—the one Caitlin’s stitching up right now—is actually Wells, but not our actual—Oh my god I’m so confused. My brain is melting.”
If Oliver’s furrowed brow was any indication, his brain was not fairing much better.
This, however, only seemed to encourage Cisco. “Okay so actual Wells from this world is just Wells. The dude, who came along and replaced him like a creepy body snatcher is actually Eobard Thawne.” He circled a couple of the stick figures on the whiteboards for emphasis. “We thought he was actual Wells, but he’s actually not. We call the Wells with us now—the actual Wells from Earth-2 since there was no body-snatching incident there—well, we like to call him Harry. You know, to differentiate between the three of them.”
Oliver let out a long breath, ran a hand across his jaw, and muttered. “Right. Because that makes everything so much clearer.”
“Soooo…” Felicity started again. “This Wells—I mean Harry is…not evil?”
Cisco shrugged. “As far as we can tell. Like I said, Zoom apparently kidnapped Harry’s daughter.” A few more stick figures got matching circles. “So Harry’s out to get Zoom. Which puts him squarely in our camp. At least for now. But,” he added, “still pretty prickly and definitely kind of a dick.”
“Which is why no one is especially broken up about the fact that Oliver shot him?” Felicity asked.
Cisco shrugged again. “Yeah, not particularly. Just don’t kill him. He’s helpful. Sometimes.”
There was a moment or two of silence while Felicity and Oliver continued to stare at the white boards with their indiscernible squiggles and the writhing colorful mass behind them like any moment they would somehow translate themselves into intelligible English.
“Well,” Oliver finally said once he’d given up trying to fully understand. “I guess it’s a good thing we came.”
Cisco’s face split into a grin. “Totally, dude!” He raised his fist for a bump that Oliver tentatively returned. “Super Team-up!” Cisco exploded his hand backwards, sound effect included. “Team Arrow and Team—” The grin abruptly slid off his face. “I mean, uh—” he trailed off and let his gaze drop to the floor. “I guess just Team Arrow.”
Felicity was on the move, ready to fling herself into yet another hug, but it was Oliver who got there first. He didn’t quite hug Cisco, but he clapped him on both shoulders and said softly, “Last time I checked, Team Flash was more than one person. Just like my team is so much more than just me. So, yes, Team Arrow and Team Flash.”
Cisco gave a small ghost of a smile. “Team Flarrow.”
Felicity laughed because if she didn’t she was sure she would cry. “We’re not Brangelina, Cisco.”
But Cisco was on a roll. “Because, well, Arrash just sounds uncomfortable. Haven’t figured out how to mash Vibe in there yet…”
“Vibe?” Oliver asked.
Cisco, however, didn’t get the chance to answer. Rapidly approaching footsteps echoed in the chamber as Joe West sprinted towards them.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Where’s Barry!?” The detective shouted as he ran, gun drawn but pointed down and away.
“You didn't tell Joe!?” Felicity hissed at Cisco.
“What!?” He hissed back. “What do you take me for? Of course Joe knows. He’s been at S.T.A.R. Labs since right after the fight.”
“Barry,” Joe explained. “He texted me. Said he needed help. Only now he won’t answer his phone and I can’t find him anywhere.”
Felicity’s heart pounded loudly in her chest. Had something else terrible happened? Her traitorous mind conjured up horrible images: Barry sprawled across the floor, Zoom back to finish what he started.
Cisco’s face hardened once more as he slipped into focus mode. “Come on.” He motioned for everyone to follow back out the way he came. “He can’t have gotten far.”
Back in the cortex Cisco darted over to the central computer.
“Cisco!” Joe called as he tried to continue down the hallway on the other side. “What the hell are you doing? We gotta find Barry.”
“No need.” Cisco clacked away at the keyboard. “I never removed the tracker we put in the chair from back when we were trying to keep an eye on Dr. Wells. I thought about taking it out when I modified it for Barry, but then I thought it might come in handy in case—there he is!” Cisco zoomed in on a tiny green dot. It was still in S.T.A.R. Labs. “He’s…in a gym?” Cisco zoomed in further. “Uh, well, technically the locker room.”
“Where, Cisco?” Joe urged.
Cisco muttered. “We have a gym? With a locker room?”
“Where!?”
“Right! First floor, north side.”
The four of them took off again.
Oliver got there first. He crashed through the door with an arrow knocked. Joe was close behind, his service piece likewise at the ready. Felicity and Cisco had no weapons to brandish, but they busted through the door all the same.
Only to find a very startled looking Barry Allen. He’d swapped his shirt for a clean S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt and his hair was slightly ruffled, but still perched in Dr. Wells’ old chair he seemed no worse for wear.
Oliver and Joe were on high alert, turning in place and scanning for enemies. Finding no immediate threat, Joe turned to Barry. “What is it, Bar, what’s wrong?”
Barry seemed just as concerned as everyone else. “What do you mean? What are you all doing here?”
Joe knelt beside him. “I got your text. I thought—I thought Zoom—”
“Oh.” Barry immediately dropped his gaze. “No, that’s not—I just can’t—” although he refused to glance up, there was no hiding the vibrant flush that washed over his entire face and neck.
He couldn’t seem to speak anymore. Felicity saw as he opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally gave up trying. Instead, clamping his watering eyes tightly shut, Barry simply held up his right hand. In it: a plain pair of sweatpants.
Felicity stared, confused. They did not appear to be a particularly evil pair of sweatpants. They were simple grey, with a small S.T.A.R. Labs logo. They looked soft and comfy, the kind of pants you’d just slip right on and—
Something in Felicity’s gut shriveled.
“Oh.”
Her exclamation was echoed over throughout the room. Cisco and Oliver also looked down, embarrassed. Joe sounded relieved.
“Oh,” the detective said. “Hey. No problem. Pants I can deal with. You are talkin’ to the pants masters of Central City, you know that? Iris used to lose them at the drop of the hat when she was little.”
His anecdote, it seemed, did little to cheer Barry up. His flush only deepened and he buried his heating face in his hands. Felicity thought she saw a few droplets leak out between his fingers.
She wanted to reach out, to touch Barry’s shoulder, hug him, hold him, anything. But if his beat red face wasn’t enough of an indication that physical contact would be unwelcome, his posture was. Shoulders hunched as far as they could go, Barry looked like he wanted to disappear, to fold into himself and never come back out. Felicity’s heart squeezed in her chest.
“We should—” she finally managed to choke out as she signaled to Oliver and Cisco. “We should go check—the, uh, the—we should really. Just go.”
The three of them sprinted out the door as quickly as they came.