Actions

Work Header

The One The Left Behind

Summary:

A Flash fan fiction ❤️
By ShipersAnonymous and Annacarina2
....

I remember.

I remember it all. In flashes of red. The agony. The betrayal. The sound of my heart breaking. The silence as they each forgot about me.

As they left me behind.

I remember. And I don't intend to forgive.

Notes:

A-hoy there shippers!

So I've been biting my tongue to keep this in cause I'm terrible at keeping secrets! But it's finally here!

I can't tell you how over the moon I am at this collaboration with annacarina2 who trusted me enough with her thoughts and let me put them into words.

I've never done anything like this before and this story has so much it's a challenge to find out which angle is better suited to tell the story (their all so good!). I hope that together we can do the story justice and hope that you enjoy it!

We've mixed a little Godly mythology (by that I mean we used a few names here and there) into this with a bit of romance, a lot of familial drama and a splash of angst! It's a Barry/Eobard fic but to my shippers out there don't worry West-Allen will still form apart of this wild mix!

To my lovely co-author, thank you a million times over for sharing your imagination with me and believing in my skills enough to let me copilot. I look forward to reaching our destination but I'm stoked for the journey we're embarking on!

All aboard!!!

XOXO
💜🖤

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

His chubby fingers curled over the bar of gold that formed part of the crib’s frame. With curious eyes, he lifted himself onto the tips of his toes and peered inside. A flushed face, wrinkled and topped with a thin sheet of glossy, auburn hair, rested soundly against the mattress. The creature looked so small and fragile, like if he reached in hard enough he could hold its head between his infantile hands and squeeze with enough pressure to make it burst.

He smiled at the malevolent thought. 

As if sensing his darkened intent, the babe’s lips trembled before a holler, loud and panicked pushed out of them.

Strong voice for such a tiny thing.
His mother came rushing in, the worry in her eye unmistakable, fuelling his hatred. She swooped the hollering child into her arms and pressed it against her bosom. With the honey milk voice she used to reserve just for him, a song echoed from her chest and ruffled the clouds that they called home. The love in each note pronounced. The admiration and affection clear in each word.
The lullaby breaking his heart.
He shuffled to his mother’s side with his head hung in sadness. With the gentleness mastered only by a child, he tugged at her skirt for attention.

“Ami?” he called, a name he’d lovingly kept from his days as a babbling infant learning to speak, but his call went unanswered. Her attention had been captured by the creature that now laid still in her embrace.
The embrace stolen from him.

“Ami?” he tried again and this time her gaze turned towards him, her body continued its gentle sway as she danced with the little god.

“Achilles, my sweet, hush a moment and let mama put Apollo to sleep.” she pleaded softly, the affection in her golden eyes shining through like the rays of the rising sun. He could never deny her a wish when she smiled at him so warmly. So he swallowed down his pride with hopes that his good behaviour would win her favour enough for him to keep her love. As she carried on singing and swaying, he diligently held on to her skirt.
His tiny palm began to sweat and he tightened his grip. His unripe muscles thumped with a dull ache and stiffness, yet little Achilles persisted.
He was too afraid to let go.
At last she replaced the child in its bed of gold and turned her full attention onto him. His heart beat hopeful that his determination had paid off and when she smiled down at him he reached out his arms, begging her to pick him up. Needing to be encapsulated by her warmth, reassured that he hadn’t lost her. Instead she knelt down before him and drew him in for a hug.

“My sweet, sweet Achilles. I’m afraid I no longer poses the strength to carry you like I used to. You’ve grown so much,” she says once they pull apart and her eyes sparkle with a gleam of sadness, coloured by a hint of maternal pride. But little Achilles, small as he was, failed to read the emotion on her face and simply attached meaning to her words.
Was he now too big because she had a smaller model to compare him too? Was she now too weak because her strength had been exhausted on the creature that lay fast asleep in his crib? Regardless of the reason, there was a single common thread in both explanations.

Apollo.

This fiend he had to call brother had stolen from him the one thing he treasured most. The one fortune the stars had granted him. The love of his mother. He could feel it in the core of his very being.

“Iris!” his father’s thunderous voice boomed from a distance and she turned her head towards the sound.

“In a minute my lord,” she called back.

“Your father is in need of me, I must make haste. I plead thee, Achilles, do not wake thy brother,” she asked and he nodded.

As a reward for his compliance he received a kiss on the forehead before his mother took her leave. He waited till he was truly alone and approached the sleeping babe. Peering into the cot once again, he was filled with a dark determination to see his beloved mother rid of the parasite that harmed her so. With no one there to bare witness his eyes flickered a deep red and the corners of his lips turned up into a grin that rid his childish face of all its innocence. The old woman had warned him that the child that grew within his mother would bring nothing but misery. If she was right about that she must have been right about his quest.

It was his destiny to save his Ami. To rid the heavens of the abomination that shared his father’s blood with him. To be a hero that only a son of Zeus could be. As the seed planted itself into his naïve little heart and took root, the red glow died out of his eyes but it did not disappear completely. It simply slumbered behind the hazel of his irises, awakening each time he laid eyes on his bother.


The red in his eyes glows brighter than ever before as Eobard, triumphantly gazes down at a semi-conscious Barry. The loud roar of thunder drowns out Barry’s pained whimpers but the grimace on his bloody and bruised features is enough to appease Thawne’s sadistic hunger for the time being.

The blood stained rain drops, drip from his fingers to pool at his feet where it joins the river of red streaming from Barry, whose breaths are shallow. Each inhale agonising as it vibrates through his shattered ribs. Each exhale bringing him closer to his end.

Barry’s vision is blurred from the swelling of his eyes and bloody rain that wets his lashes, and yet he can still make out the haunting red orbs that glow like demon flashlights.

“W-Why?” he manages to whisper, searching for closure. A reason for his sudden and unjustified demise. Eobard let’s out a spine chilling cackle that slices through the night air, bleeding into the symphony of the storm.

“Poor, unsuspecting fool,” he spits.

“So naïve!” he punctuates his point with a kick to Barry’s side. The young man groans out in pain, a soft, tortured sound as he is too weak to scream.

“So unaware…” another kick.

“…Of the gift you’ve been granted. The honour bestowed upon you. So unworthy of the blood of Zeus.” A sneer of disgust crosses his lips as he gazes down at the weak, trembling figure at his feet. The thought that he is somehow connected to the whimpering mess, shames him. It dulls the glory of the Godly name bestowed upon him.

“Your existence is a mistake! A universal miscalculation. An error bound to bring misery to who’s ever path you cross.” Eobard sneers as he takes the two steps needed to close the distance his kicks had opened between them. Barry simply lays on his back, barely conscious, his eyes closed, his mind flipping through his memories with Iris to help ease his physical pain.

Her smile. Her touch. The sweet smell of her skin. The softness of her lips. The feel of her hair between his fingers. The lively sparkle in her eyes.

“But I intend to fix that.” Thawne declares as he sinks down on one knee and violently grabs Barry by the collar. The brisk movement sends a shock wave of pain through the injured boy’s body and forces his eyes to open as much as the swelling will allow.

Fear slithers into his heart.

“It’s why I was born. My destiny. And believe me when I say….”
Thawne holds his free hand up for Barry to see and though his vision is still impaired, Barry hears the moment his hand begins to vibrate. It’s a gut twisting sound that creeps into his bones and paralyses him. He’s never heard it before but something in him recognises it as a bad omen.

Death is coming.

“… that I’m going to enjoy the honour of ending your worthless life.” An evil smile of satisfaction thins Thawne’s lips as the prospect of his victory gives him the last bit of strength he needs.
A bolt of lightning lights up the sky with the brilliance of stadium lights.
A thunder clap, deafening like the roar of a mighty lion, rattles the wet earth.

Thawne, oblivious to it all, begins to lower his deadly hand onto Barry’s chest.