The flash... II

Okay

TW: mentions of weapon, grave injuries, blood, medical procedures, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt

No one dared to speak. No one dared to move. No one even dared to breathe. Nora's words hang in the air like a fly caught in molasses. Not one person reacted. Not even their faces showed any sign of surprise or confusion, even resignation. Nothing. Everyone just stood in front of her as if frozen in time, like emotionless antique statues, created for the sole purpose of decor.

She couldn't tell how much time passed before her eyes caught a glimpse of the gun pointed at her. It had happened all so fast. As Nora remained immobile in the center of the room, mimicking everyone else, Detective West rapidly broke out from the mental restraints of shock, took his gun out of the holster and aimed. Before he forged his reputation as Detective, he was known for his impeccable firing skills.

And Nora knew that. She had heard so many stories about his time as an officer when he'd take her to the shooting range. She swore to never tell her Pa that her aim wasn't all his doing. That's why she just raised her hands above her head and stepped back. She knew better than to test him.

He didn't speak. He just took the gun out and aimed, waiting for the stranger claiming to be his granddaughter to make her next move. Waiting to gain a reason to shoot. Joe West wasn't a particularly aggressive or violent man. He was taught to use his reason, his witty intelligence and make it his most dangerous weapon. And he did. He never ran out of bullets, not even back when he was an officer. He was a man of words.

But not when it came to his kids. Not when it came to Iris and Barry. He had spent the entirety of his fatherhood teaching his daughter how to get out of any type of hold, pull a good punch, safely use a gun. He had made it his mission, his only goal to raise a strong, independent woman in a world of misogyny and raging sexism. And when Barry came into the picture, he was enrolled in weekly training too. but they were his kids. His children. And he'd be damned if anything happened to them under his watch. Not after the last two years. Not after the countless night spent holding his sobbing daughter in his arms, while clinging to his lifeless-looking; not after the nightmares that mercilessly replayed over and over again that dreaded night, the night he held his boy on the wet floor of the department's laboratory, screeching for help, begging God to not take him away.

No, not after that. So he waited, and was ready to wait until the end of times for the shadow of a reason. He couldn't seem to find a reason that seemed so well hidden behind those crystal blue eyes staring directly into his. Hidden behind what, though. There wasn't a speck of fear, or distress. Not a single glimpse of confidence, of malice. Nothing. Those crystal blue eyes staring directly into his held nothing. Absolutely nothing. Endless emptiness filled her vision, her soul.

She was just a kid. It hit him out of nowhere: she was a kid. Zoom couldn't have possibly recruited a kid, right? He wouldn't have gone that far, would he? Of course, he would've. He was a monster. but she wasn't. She was a child. Just a child. He battled with himself, letting his hands shake, his aim buckle, but never drop.

Joe's eyes moved around the cortex, searching for an answer on someone else's face, but he only found more questions. Nobody had moved a millimeter, he could see their muscle twitch to release some tension; nobody seemed intentioned to take their eyes off of the foreign girl standing in the middle of the room, nobody seemed intentioned to break the bone-chilling, that thickened the air, trapping them in time like bees in resin.

So, he took action. He silenced his thoughts and took a step forward, gun raised aiming at her head.

"NO!" Barry's voice melted the silence away, rendering the air breathable again. Everyone was abruptly pulled out of their trance state and they all turned to the speedster. No one understood the look in his eyes: the deep, unconditional adoration he projected toward the young girl; the surprise, the disbelief painted on his face; the big, heartfelt grin that accentuated his dimples and displayed his whole teeth. No one could find a reasonable explanation for the pure terror hiding in his wide pupils; for the shaky hand he extended between Joe and the girl; for the force, the strength, the determination his voice held.