Chapter Text
“You’re glowing, Scarlet,” Len whispered with mock awe glistening in his eyes.
“Stop that,” giggled Barry, feeling mildly uncomfortable. Of all puns, this guy had to choose ‘You’re glowing’.
It was not entirely wrong, however. Sparkles of gold and crimson were starting to literally dance over his skin. Nothing new, it was, but it still wasn’t something one could witness in their everyday lives. A wash of light despondency and guilt tangled in his heart while he watched the ‘pixie dust’, as Mick called it, adding a very astral and ethereal air about him. He was feeling sorry for having to leave this world, or to be more precise; he was feeling sorry for having to leave Leonard Snart, who happened to be a fictional character. Barry knew only too well in his heart that there were more pressing real-life matters to take care of, and by indulging in this little adventure inside a fictive universe, he was becoming more and more infused with the addictive euphoria of escapism. This kind of sorriness was unhealthy, and he knew it.
“Aw, your time’s up, isn’t it?” Lisa pouted as she approached the two of them with a stack of firewood in her hands. Behind her was a large tent standing on the camping ground that had been set up an hour ago. When the cascade of starlight began to overcome the sunlight, they had found a place to stay for the night.
Barry lifted his right hand to cover the crescent moon. The silvery glow seeped through his palm which was slowly turning translucent, and illuminated his face. “Yeah. Time to go home,” Barry murmured.
“To ‘reality’?” asked Lisa. They weren’t overly fond of the idea that their world was a fabricated one, so Barry was a bit guilty when he noticed the sarcasm laced in her question.
“Yes, well----uh, it depends,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.
“It does,” Len echoed.
“What’s going on there?” A gruff voice called from across the clearing. Mick was building a small fire in front of the tent. All he was doing was pretty much sitting in front of it and reaching out to the pile of twigs and branches while his innate ability to ignite flames did magic to bring a blaze to life. Although according to the pyromaniac, maintaining the fire to stay in the ‘perfect’ zone necessitated formidable technique and concentration. Barry didn’t have fire powers----he would never know.
“Golden boy’s leaving,” Lisa shouted back. Barry lauded Lisa for her love of gold puns inside his head.
Mick was in front of him in a few strides. “Can’t miss that,” he said.
By then, Barry was no more visible than a specter, only that he was shrouded in coats of glitter and radiance. In a minute, he would be back in his----wait, where was he when he was last drawn into this story? Their time together this time had lasted for almost five days, and it was enough to opacify his grasp on what had been going on in his actual life back in Central City, as a CSI and also…the Flash.
“Duties are calling me,” Barry laughed halfheartedly. There were so many sacrifices to make to lead a double life; one in reality and the other in this fantasy world. The more he frequented this place, the fainter his family and friends’ memories of him seemed to get, like he was slowly being expunged from existence where he truly belonged. It ached and he would desperately attempt to find a way to minimize the impact of the side effect, only to learn his tries are in vain. In his defense, this certain story that he could not find a single data of anywhere gave him no choice but to be pulled into it at the most random moments. But meeting Len and setting out for an adventure in this spellbinding universe in search of a mythical Shangri-La enthralled him and the venturesome spirit that lay deep inside his heart. This was Barry’s guilty pleasure, and a costly one.
“’I hope your duties take breaks,” Len remarked wistfully. He held out his hands but retracted it shortly as if he remembered the fact that Barry was not tangible at the second.
“I’ll be back short anyway,” Barry shrugged. A part of him chided, you seriously want to continue this at the expense of your real life? But he had already waded far too deep in this swamp to free himself. He didn’t want to free himself, even if he could.
“Well until then,” Lisa tugged the wood closer to her. “Stay gold, Ponyboy,” she winked mischievously.
Barry was just about to cast a comment about regretting to ever teach her the quote but was interrupted by a change in the serenity surrounding them. The loudest noise one could hear inside a forest at night was usually no more boisterous than the harmony of crickets or susurrus of rustling tree leaves. But this was different. The four (soon-to-be three) explorers tensed up as the sound of horses’ hefty hooves thudding against the soft dirt bed reverberated in the sultry atmosphere. Len gave a quick signal to Lisa and Mick. But not to Barry.
“Len,” Barry called in an urgent tone but he could already feel his body and mind being hauled out of the scene. The bright disarray of gold and red was blinding him.
His body did not comply with his will. He meant to go forth, but it was as if his feet were rooted to the innermost core of the earth, restraining him from doing anything but watching the last glimpse of his friends and…whatever Len was to him, facing the unknown advancing on them from the shadows. Barry had a hunch about what was awaiting them. A queasy sensation derived from the intuition that his guess was right and the helplessness he felt because of it writhed in his stomach.
Barry wanted to say “Be safe,” but it just was not possible at this point. He was more like a huge mishmash of effulgence. He internally screamed in anguish.
“Stay safe, Barry.”
Ironically, it was the last thing he heard before the light completely engulfed him in its voracious brilliance. Look who’s the one to talk, Barry thought, trying to ignore the pang of acute concern niggling at the back of his mind. But his time was really up now. He was left no other choice than to finally allow himself to the familiar momentary oblivion that submerged him as he was lead back into the world that was his own; his actual home.
“Barry? Barry!”
His eyes fluttered open to the urgent voice drilling into his eardrums. With a great flurry of movement, Barry tumbled off from his chair and landed on the lab floor with a remarkably agonizing thump. Paper rained around him as he let out a pained cry on the ground that was hardly pristine. Dust flew as his huffs of breaths brushed its surface. Oh god, this was one phenomenal sequence of failures. Barry’s face recolored itself in pink as he hurriedly used his jellylike limbs to get to his feet. One of the side effects of Crossing was this overwhelming fatigue that washed over him every time he came back from a story.
“You okay, Barr?” Joe asked with genuine concern in his voice. Oh yeah, Barry almost forgot. This kind of sight was not entirely unfamiliar to his foster father. He was the awkward dork, Barry Allen.
“I’m fine, Len,” Barry replied shakily. It took a second to realize what he had just said unconsciously. He’d messed up without even realizing it!
“Who in the world is ‘Len’?” Joe frowned, obviously confused and partially suspicious. He was a cop after all.
Five days. Five days had definitely affected him profoundly. Barry fumbled for words and rested his hand on his desk for support. “Uhh, nothing. Just a work friend,” he blabbered, barely aware of the content of the first coherent string of words that came up in his head.
“Barry, there is no ‘Len’ at this precinct,” Joe carefully informed him. Shit, how could he have forgotten the fact that both him and Joe worked at the exact same place? Again, he blamed the side effect of Crossing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He tried to laugh it off. “Ugh, ignore me, Joe. I-I don’t think I’m fully awake yet,” he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.
Joe stared at him with a piercing gaze that seemed to scrutinize his mind and even inspect his soul. Barry had no idea what Joe was thinking right now but he still got shivers receiving that gaze. However, Joe eventually broke into a genial smile. Barry silently exhaled a breath he had been unintentionally holding out of relief.
“To think that I figured you were working hard to this hour,” Joe chuckled. Barry uneasily laughed along with him. “Pack your things, Barr. It’s already nine.”
“I was working hard, though,” Barry timidly defended himself. It was true. He recalled voluntarily being absorbed in this sea of printed researches and studies to solve a murder case when a blinding ray of light materialized before him to whisk him yet another time into the fictional universe. One good thing was that time halted altogether during his stay in Len’s world.
“Sure,” Joe raised his eyebrow. He clearly did not believe him. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.” And then he stepped out the door.
Barry sighed as he picked up all the papers from the floor to stack them in a disorganized heap on one corner of his untidy desk. His surroundings said much about his own state of mind. Messy. Baffled. Restless.
After stuffing all that he needed to bring home, Barry proceeded to put on his jacket. It was summer in Len’s world, a thought popped up out of the blue. He looked out the window now turned opaque from the incessant streams of the downpour slithering their way down, down, down to the ground. Winter was nearing, and this unanticipated storm came to him as a portentous sign. Even before his super senses from being hit by a ‘magical’ lightning came around, his premonitions had seldom been proved wrong. This was one of the first times he had ever wished his premonition was erroneous for once. However, as if to aggressively dishearten him for making such a luxurious wish, a ghastly lightning flashed across the window, unfurling the sinister view of the city laid out under its eerie scintillation. Barry’s skin crawled.
Len, Lisa, and Mick were no longer just fictitious individuals to him. The way they interacted with each other, the way they protected each other, the way Leonard cared for Barry…if he had to choose one person out of the four that appeared to be the farthest from being alive and existent, it was himself. And at this precise moment, those three could be in a grave danger. Once again, that nauseous sensation returned to his stomach. Barry tore his troubled gaze away from the window with great effort and turned to leave his lab, tightening his grip on the strap of his bag.
The resounding roar of following thunder filled the air with tension and electricity.