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The gun falls from his grasp as Ray gasps.
He did it.
He shot the mirakuru soldier.
He won, against the enemy, against Anna’s killer, against his demon.
He killed him.
He killed him.
A groan breaks through his thoughts, and his eyes find John on the ground, in obvious pain, struggling to breathe evenly.
Ray shakes his head, and hurries forward to help the hurt man, pulling him up from the grass and taking his weight.
This isn’t real. None of this is real.
They need to get out of here.
Ray finds John in the MedBay, as they’re heading back to their time and space. The man is lying on the futon with his eyes closed, not doubt experiencing the soothing sensation of have his body healed at an accelerated rate. Ray remembers how calming it had felt the first time he experienced it.
John’s eyes snap open and focus on him, and he offers a smile back.
“Hey, John,” he greets, cheerily, “just wanted to see how you’re feeling.”
“Like that bullet was real,” John replies with a groan. “I didn’t think your robot would know how to treat phantom pain.”
Ray frowns, before his brain catches up. “Oh, you mean Gideon.”
“Yeah. Him. Her. It. Whatever.”
“Her.”
“Robot.” John waves his hand dismissively. Then he sighs. “Well, I guess I do have to thank…her. Whatever she’s pumping into me is working.”
“It’s a neural agent from the 22nd century that targets the thamalus,” Gideon’s voice supplies. John tenses up before relaxing with a snort. “Yeah, well, might as well be that.”
Ray laughs with him. And then John’s eyes are on him again. Staring.
He shifts nervously.
“I guess I have to thank you too,” John finally says, “You saved my life back there.”
“It’s nothing,” Ray replies on reflex.
“It’s not nothing, Ray. I was down, and the mirakuru soldier was coming for me. For us.” John closes his eyes again. “I saw him coming. But you shot him before he got close. Thank you.”
But he didn’t save John.
Not really.
Because John was never really in any danger.
Because it wasn’t real.
It wasn’t.
“Ray?”
Suddenly he’s aware that he’s been silent too long. He looks up, and John is staring at him again.
“You alright, man?”
Ray forces a smile. “Of course,” he beams.
John doesn’t look convinced.
“There’s still a bit way to go before we’re home.” Ray turns, scratching the back of his head, “I think I’m gonna get some rest. Can’t be caught dozing off when we’re going up against the Dominators.”
He can still feel John’s gaze on his back as he exits the room.
Ray watches Thea walk in the door to her apartment as Oliver waves good bye next to him.
Thea disappears from sight, and Oliver lets out a sigh.
“When did she grow to be so strong?” he wonders out loud. Ray smiles at that. “You do have quite the sister.”
“She’s so strong,” Oliver repeats, “In that hallucination, in that nightmare, she went up against Malcolm. And won. Slade Wilson might be my demon, but Malcolm is her father. I don’t think I could’ve had the strength to do it.”
“She’s stronger than all of us,” Ray agrees.
There’s a beat of silence before they share a glance. Then together they turn back to head for the Waverider.
They’re halfway there when Oliver speaks again. “Aliens. I still can’t believe this.”
Ray laughs. “Our lives get weirder every day.”
“Tell me about it,” Oliver says, exasperated, “And this technology they use. It’s so… disturbing. How it can just scan our minds and pull things from our memories. Our worst demons . How is that fair?”
Ray swallows.
It isn’t fair.
None of it is fair.
It isn’t fair that he had to face Anna’s killers again.
It isn’t fair that he didn’t have the ATOM suit there.
It isn’t fair that he couldn’t fight without it.
It isn’t fair that he was forced to pick up that gun.
It isn’t fair that he had to pull the trigger-
“Ray!”
Ray blinks. Oliver is in front of him. His hands are on his shoulders and grabbing them tightly. His blue eyes shine with worry.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay now. It wasn’t real,” Oliver says, more gently than Ray ever thought possible, and one hand leaves his shoulder to hover in front of him, moving up and down in rhythm, and Ray matches his breathing to it.
“It wasn’t real. You’re safe now. It’s over. It wasn’t real.”
Ray cracks a smile.
“I know,” he says. His voice is shaking.
He hates it.
Of course it wasn’t real.
He knows that.
They are getting ready to go meet the president when Sara grabs him by the arm.
“Ray,” she calls.
“Sara,” Ray nods back, turning to face her, “do you need something?”
Sara glances around them, like she’s looking to see if others are listening, or like she’s trying to figure out the best way to say whatever it is she wants to say. It’s a thing she does, Ray has noticed.
Whichever it is, this can’t be good.
“Oliver told me you were acting strange,” she finally says, meeting his eyes at last.
Ray’s lips press into a line.
“I’m fine.” He says automatically.
Sara stares. Then she sighs. “Look, if what happened back in that dream world is bothering you-”
“It’s not bothering me,” he cuts her off, which he immediately mentally kicks himself for. Why did he do that?
Sara snorts, “You’re really as bad as Nate when it comes to lying.”
Ray turns away, to prod at a piece of the ATOM suit that is already in place.
“Ray, if you need to talk about it-”
“I don’t.” Again. He’s answering too fast. Why? “I don’t need to talk about it. There’s nothing- there’s nothing to talk about, Sara. So can we, not bring it up again? Please.”
His voice grows more desperate with each word. Which doesn’t make sense. Why would he be desperate? It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t real.
Sara’s silent, but he can feel her eyes on him.
Then there’s a flash of yellow lightning.
“Guys, Oliver wants us out there, now,” Barry says.
Ray smiles at him and nods, ignoring how Sara glares at him.
“We’re not done,” she whispers to him as they head out the door.
Ray doesn’t answer her.
Ray smiles as he watches Nate walk out in his suit.
“Looks good on you,” he says.
“You think?” Nate beams back happily, spinning around to let Ray see the rest of it, “Too bad you missed the debut. Already wore it back in 1951.”
“Only had to wait six decades,” Ray jokes.
Nate grimaces. “So did our new alien friend. Man, I almost hate to say it, but we should’ve left him to be tortured.”
“He was tortured?”
“Yeah, Agent Smith wanted information from him, and decided asking nicely, like what we were doing, wouldn’t be enough.” Nate scowls. “We almost had him talking, too.”
Suddenly he blinks. “I guess it’s a good thing that the Dominators, despite their name, don’t use torture, huh? It would’ve been bad for you and Oliver and Sara and the rest.”
Ray stares.
Nate’s eyes widen. “I mean, not that what happened to you wasn’t bad! Just like, torture would have been worse, right? I’m glad you didn’t get tortured.”
Nate is right. It is better. At the very least he was happy, for a bit, in that fantasy world. Whatever information the Dominators had gleaned from his mind didn’t involve pain, at least not until they tried to leave.
Maybe he can fix that?
“I can’t believe Barry is actually going to do it, though,” Nate mutters.
His mind is running over algorithms, calculating possibilities, and he’s distracted when he shrugs and replies, “I can. I mean, I’d do it.”
The world shifts back into focus when he realizes what he had said. Ray looks up to see Nate staring. He looks mortified.
“… what?” Nate chokes out.
Ray looks away, rubbing his hands together. Then he turns back to face Nate with a grin.
“You should see the look on your face.”
Nate lets out a sigh of relief. “Don’t do that! You actually scared me there!”
Ray laughs and apologizes. But the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
He stays silent as the rest of them talk Barry out of his suicide plan.
Felicity skips to his side after Kara leaves to confront Agent Smith.
“You’ve been oddly quiet,” she says.
“Really?” he asks, “I was just telling Kara about Big Belly Burger.”
“Ah, finally an Earth that doesn’t have it,” she laughs. It’s contagious. And soon he’s laughing too.
“No, but really, you know what I meant,” she says as the laughter dies.
Ray stares on ahead. “I really don’t.”
“Ray.” Her hand is on his. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
Silence falls. Ray takes a sip of champagne.
“Oliver’s worried about you,” Felicity says, “so is Sara. And John. You’re worrying a lot of people for what you claim to be nothing.”
“They shouldn’t,” he states simply. There’s nothing to be worried about.
“Why was I your fiance in the dream?”
The question catches him off guard. He spins around to face Felicity fully.
“Sara told me.” She explains with a wave of her hand, but she’s looking at him with a curious look on her face. “As much as I’m, well, flattered, I guess, we both know it shouldn’t have been me.”
Ray swallows, then he looks away.
“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully.
“Well, I have a theory,” Felicity says as she holds up one finger to emphasize her words, “I think that you care about me, a lot, not in the romantic way, but in a platonic way, and your care runs so deep, that it confused the aliens. And I think that’s what makes you so strong, because you care, you love so freely. I think those that you really love, those that are special, are held close to your heart. I think your mind defends those memories from being prodded. I think that’s why you were able to remember Anna so quickly.”
He blushes. “That’s a nice theory.”
She smiles at him. “And I also think,” Felicity continues softly, “that whatever has been bothering you involves Anna, too.”
Ray stiffens.
“Ray. You don't have to tell me.” Her voice is soft, caring, and Ray almost feels guilty. “But you have to tell someone.”
“There's nothing to tell.” His voice is shaking again.
How could there be?
Nothing happened.
It wasn't real.
Felicity just pats his hand again, smiles sadly at him, and leaves.
Ray almost misses the warmth she takes with her.
Ray purses his lips as he finishes the final tweaks to the headset.
“Gideon, is the program running correctly?” he asks.
“The program is fully functional, Dr. Palmer. I detect no anomalies within it.” Gideon replies cheerfully.
“Huh.”
He's actually done it, with Gideon’s help. A few altercations to his own ATOM suit helmet and the replicate he's made to the programming he'd memorized from the Dominators ship, he's managed to recreate the technology.
With a much less hostile response towards the subject wanting to leave, hopefully.
Well, there's only one way to find out.
“Test Run One, we’ll see if deeper memories can be recreated by the program when the subject is willing. In addition, test the removal of the safety protocol and the effects it has on the subject exiting the program. Gideon, please monitor the process for me.”
“Of course, Dr. Palmer.”
With only a second of hesitation, Ray secures the headset around his head and lays down on his bed.
He opened his eyes and finds himself staring at the ceiling of his home.
Of their home.
Ray sits up slowly. He's in his bed. Their bed. The bed they shared.
Everything is just as he remembers. The slightly parted curtains that let in the tiniest sliver of light that she always complained about. The empty jar on the shelf that he had promised to get rid of but never got around to. The light scratch on the wood of the bed post at the left end corner of the bed that was the result of him bringing one of his inventions into the room. The light purple lampshade of the lamp stand in the corner of the room that neither of them really know how they came to be in possession of.
The picture on the nightstand beside him that shows them, together, happy.
“You're gonna be late for work if you keep daydreaming like that, honey.”
He's surprised he doesn't spin around faster.
There she is, standing by the bedroom door, her hair wet from the shower and a simple silk robe hugging her frame. She's smiling at him, widely, fondly, and so, so lovingly.
“Anna,” he breathes.
It almost seems real.
But it's not, of course.
He knows that.
Anna calls him to breakfast. Ray smiles and nods. But instead of following her to the kitchen, he finds the closet door that isn't supposed to be and walks through the glowing portal against the far wall.
“Welcome back, Dr. Palmer,” Gideon says. “All vitals are normal.”
“Thank you, Gideon,” he replies as he sits up, “Test Run One successful. Memory is recreated down to the last detail. Subject has full awareness of the dream’s reality. No resistance met when subject attempts to leave.”
He fingers the headset gingerly.
“More testing is needed,” he concludes.
Ray sets the headset down and turns to the screen. Maybe there's more that can be done with the programming.
Ray starts awake.
He runs a hand through his hair, and pulls the headset off. Pushing himself up from the table surface, he glances around his room as he yawns and stretches.
“Gideon?”
How long has he been sleeping?
“Good morning, Dr. Palmer. You dozed off in the middle of rewriting the programming. I thought it best to let you rest.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Thank you, Gideon.”
Ray sets the headset down on the table and then glances at the screen. He remembers doing Test Run Three…or was it Four? He’s not entirely sure. All his memories up to him falling asleep are a bit hazy.
Well, he can finish rewriting the programming later. Then maybe run a test to see if his new problem-detecting algorithm actually works.
But for now, a shower.
The hot water is exactly what he needed. After feeling refreshed, he dries himself and gets dressed, deciding to head for the galley.
He can’t really remember the last time he ate, either.
His silent wish to not run into anyone seems to have been heard. He hears Sara and Amaya sparring in the cargo bay, and catches a glimpse of Martin and Jax in the lounge. He’s pretty sure that Nate is in the library and Mick is back in his room. The galley should be empty for him to scavenge for food.
Ray’s half way through inputting the commands to synthesize gluten-free pancakes when he hears it.
“So he lives. Sealing yourself off from the rest of the world isn’t healthy, Raymond.”
The voice is comfortingly familiar, and nothing seems to be wrong as Ray smiles and turns to reply, a retort already forming on his tongue.
Until his eyes land on exactly who it is that’s talking to him. The words die on his lips, and suddenly everything stops.
Leonard Snart, leaning against one of the counters, raises an eyebrow, “Cat got your tongue?”
No.
No.
This can’t be him.
It can’t be him.
Leonard is dead. Leonard is dead. He can’t be here.
This can’t be real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real-
Since when has it not been real? Was it always not real? What has been real? What is-
“Raymond!”
Ray gasps, and the cold hard surface of the wall presses against his back as he slides down to the floor. When had he backed into the wall? He can’t remember. Nothing makes sense and nothing is real-
A hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks up at the man who isn’t supposed to be there, and sees the concern shining in his eyes. But that can’t be right. Because-
“You’re not real,” he croaks as his fingers clasp onto the man’s arm in a death grip. “You’re not real. I can’t- I can’t stay here- I need to leave-”
“You need to breathe,” Leonard - not-Leonard - says.
“I can’t stay here!” The desperate shout echoes in his ears. Ray tries to twist out of the other’s grip, but the hand on his shoulder moves to press against his cheek and the other hand joins it on the other side, holding his face in place.
His breathing is harsh and uneven, not made any better when not-Leonard leans down and presses his forehead against his.
“Raymond, listen to me.”
“I ca-” Ray gasps, “I can’t-”
“I need you to trust me.” There’s something in his voice, something far more raw and vulnerable than Ray can ever remember hearing from the real Leonard. “Raymond, please, let me help you.”
A sob escapes, and Ray’s vaguely aware of the wet trails running down his face, but he looks into not-Leonard’s eyes and he sees the concern, the worry, the sincerity, and finally, finally, he allows himself to cave.
“Close your eyes.”
He does, bringing his own hands up to grab hold of the the ones pressed against his cheeks.
“Listen to my voice. Breathe with me. Breathe in. Breathe out.”
He listens, clinging onto the words like a lifeline, and does his best to match his breathing to the commands.
He doesn’t know how long it had taken, but eventually he feels the tension leave his body. He doesn’t feel the need to run anymore, and he can’t muster the strength to stand. Exhaustion seeps into his bones, but everything was once again quiet.
Ray opens his eyes and finds two blue ones looking back at him. Without thinking, he reaches out with one hand and runs his fingers down the side of the face that he remembers all too well.
“You’re not real,” he says, his voice breaking. “You’re not him.”
This time, not-Leonard only gives him a small, dry smile. “No. But I’m here, Raymond. Isn’t this exactly where you need me to be?”
He draws back from Ray and lets go of his face, but lets Ray’s hand stay on his. Ray sags back against the wall, but keeps his hand in place.
It comes to Ray slowly, but then it clicks.
“The algorithm. My algorithm.” The one that he had thought he hadn’t completed. The one he’s testing now. He remembers now. “It’s working.”
Not-Leonard snorts. “Finally figured it out?”
“And the programming chose you,” Ray lets out a laugh as he draws his hand back and places it over his eyes. “The best candidate from my memories.”
There’s an irony to this, but Ray doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
Why else would the programming deem that the best person to help him deal with trauma would be Leonard Snart?
Not that he has trauma.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Ray looks up indignantly. “I don’t. I’m fine. It wasn’t real.”
It takes him a second to realize that not-Leonard hadn’t referred to a particular incident. Which means he had just dug himself into a hole.
Shit.
“Just because the environment wasn’t real,” not-Leonard says quietly, “doesn’t mean the experience wasn’t, Raymond.”
Ray stares at him blankly.
Not-Leonard sighs. “The man wasn’t real, but your actions were. You grabbed the gun, you shot the man. It happened. You need to accept that.”
“I…” Ray swallows. The experience was real? It was, wasn’t it? He can still remember how the gun sat in his hands, how it had felt abnormally heavy as he raised it and took aim, how his finger had tightened around the trigger and how the recoil had traveled up his-
“I pulled the trigger,” he whispers, staring down at his hands as they begin to shake. “I shot him. I killed him. I-”
The word trails off into a quiet but desperate gasp as another pair of hands gently wraps around his own.
“You were put in that position, you did what you had to.”
He looks up, and Leonard is down on one knee in front of him. There’s no obvious comforting smile on his face, or even a smile at all, but his gaze is soft, much softer than Ray can recall, and Ray can feel his resolve crumbling.
“I’m here to help you move past that, however long it takes.”
This still isn’t real, Ray knows that, but the warmth from the thumbs drawing circles into the back of his hands travels up his arms and spreads, and the voice he hasn’t heard in - a year? More than a year? Time is weird when you’re a time traveler - soothes over his entire being. And for the first time in a long while, Ray feels safe.
He closes his eyes. This might not be real, but maybe, just for now, he can pretend that it is.
Ray opens his eyes to see the familiar ceiling of his room on the Waverider, feeling much more exhausted than before he lay down on this bed.
“Dr. Palmer has returned,” Gideon says.
Before Ray can process the strange wording of the sentence, a face shifts into his line of vision.
“Mick?” he manages to ask through the dryness in his throat.
“Haircut,” the man grunts. He looks more annoyed than anything, but there’s a hint of something else behind his scowl.
“What… why are you here?” Ray asks as he slowly pushes himself into a seating position. His mind is still wrapped in a cloud of haze, and he tries to make his sudden sway towards the wall for support look intentional.
“I thought I heard something,” Mick says flatly with his arms crossed over his chest, “was bored out of my mind anyway so I came to check. Gideon wouldn’t let me wake you up.”
“There were too many variables that could have resulted in serious damage to Dr. Palmer’s psyche had I allowed it,” Gideon supplies, with just the tiniest sliver of defensiveness in her words.
A small, tired laugh makes its way out of his lips, and Ray found himself smiling. “Thank you, both of you. I appreciate it.”
He reaches for the headset and carefully removes it from his head. The device gleams under the artificial light of the Waverider as Ray thinks back to what the algorithm had shown him.
It takes him a while to realize that Mick is still staring at him. When he looks back up at him questioningly, Mick's frown only seems to deepen.
“You're crying,” comes the blunt explanation.
Ray blinks, then he brings up one hand to his cheek and is surprised by the wetness that greets his fingers. Quickly he moves to wipe it away with the sleeve of his shirt, and takes a moment to draw in a deep, long breath as his face is still pressed against the fabric.
“What did you see?” Mick asks.
He takes a second to consider how to answer.
“Nothing important,” he finally replies, words barely above a whisper. Mick doesn't look convinced, but he only shrugs as moments pass and Ray doesn't offer any more details.
“Gideon,” he says after a few more seconds of silence. There's a hardness to his voice that even Ray himself isn't used to hearing, but his mind is made up, and he doesn't want his resolve to shatter. “Please erase any and all records of the algorithm, modified or otherwise.”
He doesn't expect the uncharacteristic beat of pause from her.
“Are you certain, Dr. Palmer?” Gideon finally says.
Ray closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and can still hear the echos of Leonard's voice whispering comforting words resonating in his mind.
“Yes.”
He can't allow it to exist. He can't allow himself to use it. He can't allow himself to get lost in the experience.
Even if his heart aches for it.
The End