It's late. Late enough that...he probably shouldn't be here, really. But Cisco doesn't have anywhere else to go and the lab is kind of his safe space. Safer than his apartment, even, because at least if he's alone here, he can busy himself with tinkering on something or checking data records or...literally anything that isn't just being alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that, currently, are swirling with a lot of feelings of insignificance.
Dinner with his parents always went badly, and he's not sure why he expected this one to be any different. The saddest part was probably that he didn't. Not really. He knew it would be the same as all the others, but he still agreed to go. To be there and be belittled. Overshadowed and out-shined by his brother. Like always. He knew it, but he went because it was expected and because he knew the backlash of avoiding too many family dinners in a row was worse than going in the first place.
So now he sits at his desk, skimming over blueprints, just to have something to distract himself with. If he focused on that, he couldn't think, and if he couldn't think, he couldn't feel horrible about himself. And that was a reprieve he needed right now more than anything.
Wells isn't one to keep tabs on his employees' personal lives. Still, it's hard not to hear plans developing throughout the day. He had managed to hear something about family plans when he walked by Cisco and Caitlin earlier that day. It wasn't enough to peek his interest at the time, but now that it was late, his eyes strained and his mind about ready to shut off for the evening, the sight of Cisco Ramon still in STAR labs catches him off guard. Hadn't he gone home hours ago?
Wells takes a few steps back and heads into Cisco's workroom. He tries not to be too loud as to startle Cisco, but announces his entrance with a clearing of his throat.
His arms cross against his chest as he heads over, looking behind Cisco thoughtfully. "Burning the midnight oil, Cisco?"
He may not have meant to startle him, but he managed to regardless. Cisco jumps when he hears the older man in the doorway, knocking over a pen holder in one corner of the desk. He mutters a quiet swear to himself as he scoops up the contents and shoves them back in place. "Sorry, I, uh-- just...couldn't sleep."
Well, that was a terrible attempt at a lie. Maybe he wouldn't press him over it, though.
He won't press him on it, not exactly. While he could certainly care less why Cisco is up late doing work, because it benefits STAR labs in the end, he does notice the slight change in Cisco's demeanor. And he can't have one of his best men on edge, off his game. That just wouldn't do.
"Didn't you have plans this evening?" Not likely that they would extend to this sort of hour, but it's a sesueway into a conversation that hopefully will reveal what's eating Cisco Ramon.
"Uh..yeah, I...I had a family dinner to go to. It..." He shrugs and spreads his hands. "went about as well as it always goes." He seems to realize how it must sound, sitting here whining to his boss about his family.
Quickly, he adds, "It's no big deal or anything. Nothing new, just-- need some time to take my mind off it, it wont...mess with my work anything." If anything, it would just make him throw himself deeper into it, if he's completely honest.
"Family is messy. That's very understandable." He nods, closing the last bit of distance between them in the room so he can rest his hand down on the desk.
"Take tomorrow off if you need it. We certainly aren't behind, for once. Quite the contrary." He seems pleased, basically because he hadn't expected the plans to turn on the accelerator to go this well, this fast.
"To say the least," He mutters, not quite resisting the urge to roll his eyes. His family is a special kind of mess. The only person he actually gets on well with is his grandmother.
He glances up when Wells comes over, "Oh, uh-- thanks." He seems a little surprised by the offer, but...it's kind of nice that he cares enough to give him that.
Cisco still remembers when he first picked up a guitar. He hadn't intended on doing much with it, not in the way Dante had his career with his music. But he wanted to do something his parents would approve of. He'd stuck with it, but it had always been a hobby, rather than a passion, and eventually science took over and he just sort of stopped playing.
He's in one of the spare rooms in the lab, he'd taken to a cot because too many hours awake in one stretch meant he wouldn't be useful and he couldn't remember when he'd stopped. Things were really starting to get somewhere in the build of this accelerator, and it took a lot out of him to do his part. But everyone needed a break, so he'd crashed for awhile.
When he wakes up, Cisco's a little disoriented. He'd crashed so hard and then waking up in not-instantly-familiar surroundings was a little jarring. He sits up slowly and glances around the room, eyes landing on a guitar leaned up in one corner of the room. He frowns a little. Where had it even come from? He glances around again, like he thinks he's going to see someone scampering off from the delivery. Nobody in the lab even knows he used to play, did they? Maybe he'd said something in passing and forgotten about it... Maybe it wasn't for him anyway. But no one else seemed to be around....
He gets up and crosses the room, picking it up and carrying it back with him as he sits down again. He strums across the strings lightly a few times before he actually starts to play.
Truth be told, one of the part-time workers had left the guitar there the other day and had simply forgotten about it. What with all the stress of the build of the particle accelerator and all, no one could blame the poor guy.
Speaking of stress, Wells isn't sure he's properly slept in weeks. It isn't nerves: it's excitement. His plan is about to play out perfectly and he can finally go home. It's making him vibrate with excitement and while he seems a bit on edge, it's easy to blame on being the boss. There's part of him - the original Harrison Wells - that wants to be nervous. That wants to feel proud and yet terrified that it just won't work. But he scolds himself whenever those feelings creep up. This has to work. This is his project.
The strumming of the guitar catches him off guard. It's late afternoon and Wells had been planning on heading out of the lab for a few hours to catch up on other matters when he heard the noise on his way out. Curious, because he himself didn't play any instruments, he followed the sound of the noise.
It's a surprise when he sees Cisco holding the guitar, and not one of the other likely candidates. Huh.
He waits for some sort of break in the music before he steps fully into the threshold and starts clapping. "Bravo. I didn't know you played."
Cisco hadn't expected to be caught in the act, so when the clapping comes, the music stops abruptly and his head snaps up. "Dr. Wells. I'm sorry. I, uh--" He's automatically a little awkward at being found and slowly sinking into a self-conscious space, but the words click and he's thrown by not being chided, but responds to what Wells actually said this time. "Yeah. I- I mean, I haven't...in awhile..."
Truth is, he's a little mortified right now. He hasn't played in years and he hadn't ever really played in front of people much.
He doesn't step any closer, not wanting to scare Cisco off entirely. He does raise his hand though, as if to calm Cisco down from afar. This is a different side of the genius he's used to seeing. This is who Cisco is outside the confines of STAR labs. This is another facet of him that, as it seems, very few people have seen. It'd be a shame to have him shut that away again.
"I didn't recognize it." Which isn't a surprise to him, considering he only knew certain centuries worth of music.
Well-- it works. Because Cisco seems to calm down a bit as he realizes Wells isn't upset about it. "Oh, um...nothing, just...it's part of a song I wrote. A long time ago." Oh, there's the self-conscious smile again, like he's waiting for a reprimand.
"Really? You wrote it?" He sounds impressed. His brows lift and his lips follow, turning into the stirrings of a smile. He takes this as an invite to walk over to Ramon and take a seat near him. "It's impressive." No reprimand here, only praise. "What's it about?"
There's a swell of appreciation in his chest at that word. Impressive. He shrugs a little, tucking his hair behind his ear in nervous habit. "I never got around to writing lyrics or anything. It's all...kind of unfinished."
Cisco is still angry about Harry outing him as a meta to the rest of the team. Livid, seething, really. He was trying to figure things out, and he was going to tell them. In his own time. On his own terms. Wells 2.0 has been here for all of five minutes and has already taken that away from him. He has a lot of issues with this guy already, not least of all his freaking face and the way Barry keeps trying to push him to give the guy a chance. For what? So they can all be lied to and used again? No, thanks.
The last thing he wants after the whole Dr. Light issue has been handled is to walk into his workshop to find Harry there. Again. Cisco stops in the doorway and shakes his head, "Wow, you really don't have any concept of personal space at all, do you?"
Harry is very set in his ways. He's very used to working in his own space and people leaving him alone. That's how he got this far, after all. He's worked in silence and made his own business, his own enterprise. Sure, he isn't the most cheerful person, as his daughter constantly notes when he deals with anyone besides her, but that's fine. He didn't get this far being nice.
Harry doesn't look up from what he's fiddling with, wrist flicking as he continues rotating the screw driver. "Ignoring the fact that I'm nowhere near you, Ramon," Harry begins, flatly, gruffly, "What is it?"
Not that he cares why he's throwing a hissy fit, but he figures this is going to be a Thing. And a Thing is going to prevent him from doing work.
"Uh, yeah, you are. This," he waves his hand around to indicate the entire room as he steps further inside. "is my workshop." He comes to a stop near where Harry is working-- a safe distance on the opposing side of where he's working, with the table between them, because he still just can't.
"These," it's a risk, but one he's impulsively taking before he thinks it through, as he reaches out and yanks the screwdriver out of the older man's hand, "are my tools." he dangles the screwdriver in front of him.
"And this..." he makes a vague motion, pointing absently with the tool toward himself, "is my life, and you had NO right to bust me out like that." The last of those words are punctuated by Cisco throwing the screwdriver back on the table, because he really doesn't need it he's just making a point.
It takes all of Harry's restraint (from years of raising a teenage daughter alone) not to childishly swat the dangling screwdriver straight out of Cisco's hands. He's fairly certain he has more brute strength than the other, but that's a moot point right now. This is a matter of pride, not muscles.
"They were going to find out eventually," he says it dismissively and shakes his head, turning away from Cisco to look back at something on the workbench. Clearly it's more important. "Isn't that what you're all spewing about all the time? Honesty?"
"Yeah, they were, from me." He snaps, folding his arms across his chest, staring at him. "I'm still trying to figure this out and I was going to tell them, but you had to be a dick and take that away from me." The theft of his agency and his choice is what makes this dig under Cisco's skin so much. Does he really not understand what an invasion of privacy that was?
The funny thing about time is that it's more malleable than even speedsters give it credit for. Consequences in one timeline can impact another. While the actions on one Earth aren't exactly intertwined in the same way as parallel timelines, it's a similar theory. So when Barry Allen goes back in time, equipped with a small metal device he can easily slip into HR's jacket thanks to Tracey, it ripples throughout the universe.
While Barry had intended to rewrite the past, to let his friend, his teammate survive, and to return to the present with that fixed, the speed force had other things in mind. Rather, it was going to preserve HR's life, of course, save him by just a hair, but it wasn't going to rewrite the painful feeling of thinking he was lost, he was dead for a whole week.
Call it a time paradox. Call it blinking and reappearing into existence a week later. Call it whatever you want.
Either way, it's been a week and the funeral has definitely happened and now the very man who had given his life to finally be a hero is very much alive and very much waking up in the middle of STAR labs. His eyes flutter open and he realizes he's on the work bench, sprawled out and his foot almost knocking tools and gadgets off the desk.
"Ow, what in the world...." He sits up, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing at the loud creak. "Talk about a rude awakening...Is that a pair of pliers--"
The last week has been...a mess, if Cisco is completely honest. Iris was saved, but there were other costs. Barry's stuck in the speed force until they can find a way to stabilize it without him; Caitlin's off in who-knows-where doing a lot of soul searching. And HR's sacrifice hit him particularly hard because it takes him so long to get around to trusting a new Wells, and he'd been so convinced in the beginning that there was something shady about him. So, naturally, by the time he'd come around to actually liking the guy, he goes and gets himself stabbed. Asshole.
Every nerve he has is frayed at the edges and he's kind of beginning to wonder just how much loss a person can handle before it becomes too much to bear any more. Not that he knows what the endgame of that would be. But he'd like to stop losing. It's become far too frequent of an occurrence in his life and he's just...tired.
As Cisco wanders through the lab to the workshop, the last thing he would expect is that voice. He pauses and frowns, trying to decide if it was possible that maybe it was Harry.
But it's not. It can't be. Because Harry's voice is never quite so amiable...
He blinks and shakes his head, convincing himself he must be wrong, it's not possible-- except, well, there he is. In all his fumbling, confused glory. "HR?"
He says it quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to get the stubborn knot out. When his gaze settles on Cisco, his eyes light up in some showing of relief.
"How long was I--" A pause, and the jovial tone dies off as his words trail off. Something is wrong. He can tell by the look on Cisco's face. Instantly, his head begins to hurt, his hands coming up to clutch at the side of his head. Right. The last thing he remembered was standing out in the cold, staring down Barry Allen, Savitar at his side --
"...How?" It's barely above a whisper and he quickly drops his hands to his chest, patting himself down. "But."
The war of shock and relief fighting for dominance in his chest is clear on his face and for a moment, Cisco's a little frozen to the spot as HR starts to piece some of this together.
"Don't ask me how, I was at your funeral, what-- y-- this is..." Wait. No. This can't be right. Real. Right...? "A stress dream. Just--" he mumbles something incoherent about fingers and dreams, counting his fingers. "...nine, ten...nope. Okay. Not a dream?" He looks back over at HR, staring still in wild disbelief.
And then he finds his feet again and reaches for a hug as soon as enough space is crossed to reach him. "How the hell are you in my workshop, you sneaky bastard?"
The hug is easily returned, HR's eyes lighting up before they close. It's only polite to close your eyes when embraced in such an honest and heartfelt exchange.
"Hey, you know I'm not good at all the ... science mumbo jumbo behind it. I could hardly believe it myself!" The words are laughed, weak, tired, and partially get caught in Cisco's messy hair, the hug still continuing.
"...Did that guy show up? You know, the Handsome one? The other me? Did he cry?" Now is probably not the time for jokes, but he's curious and he'd rather dwell on that then the pain he likely inflicted on all his friends - the first group of people to truly ever care.
After awhile, once he has completely convinced himself that this isn't just some crazy figment of his imagination, Cisco pulls away and stares at HR, still in some daze of amazement at this happening.
"I don't think Harry's tear ducts actually function," he smirks a little, but it fades a moment later. There's something so weary and tired behind the more obvious brightness in the older man's eyes and he knows better than most how it feels to know you aren't supposed to be alive, even when you are. Cisco wants to say something, to ask about it, tell HR that he can talk to him about it if he wants, but bringing it up in the midst and the immediate after he came back seems cruel, somehow, so he doesn't.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
{When the rest of the world turns its back on you, I'll be the shoulder that you lean on | Pre-s1
Date: 2017-02-23 06:39 pm (UTC)Dinner with his parents always went badly, and he's not sure why he expected this one to be any different. The saddest part was probably that he didn't. Not really. He knew it would be the same as all the others, but he still agreed to go. To be there and be belittled. Overshadowed and out-shined by his brother. Like always. He knew it, but he went because it was expected and because he knew the backlash of avoiding too many family dinners in a row was worse than going in the first place.
So now he sits at his desk, skimming over blueprints, just to have something to distract himself with. If he focused on that, he couldn't think, and if he couldn't think, he couldn't feel horrible about himself. And that was a reprieve he needed right now more than anything.
sorry this is late!!!
Date: 2017-02-25 11:32 pm (UTC)Wells takes a few steps back and heads into Cisco's workroom. He tries not to be too loud as to startle Cisco, but announces his entrance with a clearing of his throat.
His arms cross against his chest as he heads over, looking behind Cisco thoughtfully. "Burning the midnight oil, Cisco?"
never late, always on time!
Date: 2017-02-26 12:41 am (UTC)Well, that was a terrible attempt at a lie. Maybe he wouldn't press him over it, though.
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Date: 2017-02-28 12:10 am (UTC)He won't press him on it, not exactly. While he could certainly care less why Cisco is up late doing work, because it benefits STAR labs in the end, he does notice the slight change in Cisco's demeanor. And he can't have one of his best men on edge, off his game. That just wouldn't do.
"Didn't you have plans this evening?" Not likely that they would extend to this sort of hour, but it's a sesueway into a conversation that hopefully will reveal what's eating Cisco Ramon.
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Date: 2017-02-28 12:49 am (UTC)Quickly, he adds, "It's no big deal or anything. Nothing new, just-- need some time to take my mind off it, it wont...mess with my work anything." If anything, it would just make him throw himself deeper into it, if he's completely honest.
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Date: 2017-03-04 07:17 pm (UTC)"Take tomorrow off if you need it. We certainly aren't behind, for once. Quite the contrary." He seems pleased, basically because he hadn't expected the plans to turn on the accelerator to go this well, this fast.
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Date: 2017-03-04 07:26 pm (UTC)He glances up when Wells comes over, "Oh, uh-- thanks." He seems a little surprised by the offer, but...it's kind of nice that he cares enough to give him that.
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From:{There is real value in sharing moments that don't live forever | Pre-s1
Date: 2017-02-23 06:45 pm (UTC)Cisco still remembers when he first picked up a guitar. He hadn't intended on doing much with it, not in the way Dante had his career with his music. But he wanted to do something his parents would approve of. He'd stuck with it, but it had always been a hobby, rather than a passion, and eventually science took over and he just sort of stopped playing.
He's in one of the spare rooms in the lab, he'd taken to a cot because too many hours awake in one stretch meant he wouldn't be useful and he couldn't remember when he'd stopped. Things were really starting to get somewhere in the build of this accelerator, and it took a lot out of him to do his part. But everyone needed a break, so he'd crashed for awhile.
When he wakes up, Cisco's a little disoriented. He'd crashed so hard and then waking up in not-instantly-familiar surroundings was a little jarring. He sits up slowly and glances around the room, eyes landing on a guitar leaned up in one corner of the room. He frowns a little. Where had it even come from? He glances around again, like he thinks he's going to see someone scampering off from the delivery. Nobody in the lab even knows he used to play, did they? Maybe he'd said something in passing and forgotten about it... Maybe it wasn't for him anyway. But no one else seemed to be around....
He gets up and crosses the room, picking it up and carrying it back with him as he sits down again. He strums across the strings lightly a few times before he actually starts to play.
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Date: 2017-02-25 11:36 pm (UTC)Speaking of stress, Wells isn't sure he's properly slept in weeks. It isn't nerves: it's excitement. His plan is about to play out perfectly and he can finally go home. It's making him vibrate with excitement and while he seems a bit on edge, it's easy to blame on being the boss. There's part of him - the original Harrison Wells - that wants to be nervous. That wants to feel proud and yet terrified that it just won't work. But he scolds himself whenever those feelings creep up. This has to work. This is his project.
The strumming of the guitar catches him off guard. It's late afternoon and Wells had been planning on heading out of the lab for a few hours to catch up on other matters when he heard the noise on his way out. Curious, because he himself didn't play any instruments, he followed the sound of the noise.
It's a surprise when he sees Cisco holding the guitar, and not one of the other likely candidates. Huh.
He waits for some sort of break in the music before he steps fully into the threshold and starts clapping. "Bravo. I didn't know you played."
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Date: 2017-02-26 02:03 am (UTC)Truth is, he's a little mortified right now. He hasn't played in years and he hadn't ever really played in front of people much.
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Date: 2017-02-28 12:08 am (UTC)He doesn't step any closer, not wanting to scare Cisco off entirely. He does raise his hand though, as if to calm Cisco down from afar. This is a different side of the genius he's used to seeing. This is who Cisco is outside the confines of STAR labs. This is another facet of him that, as it seems, very few people have seen. It'd be a shame to have him shut that away again.
"I didn't recognize it." Which isn't a surprise to him, considering he only knew certain centuries worth of music.
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From:strolls in late 5ever
From:you can't be late on psls, that's my vote XD
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From:For Harry, set in 2x5
Date: 2017-04-17 11:01 pm (UTC)The last thing he wants after the whole Dr. Light issue has been handled is to walk into his workshop to find Harry there. Again. Cisco stops in the doorway and shakes his head, "Wow, you really don't have any concept of personal space at all, do you?"
HELLO YES I AM HERE
Date: 2017-04-25 03:20 pm (UTC)Harry doesn't look up from what he's fiddling with, wrist flicking as he continues rotating the screw driver. "Ignoring the fact that I'm nowhere near you, Ramon," Harry begins, flatly, gruffly, "What is it?"
Not that he cares why he's throwing a hissy fit, but he figures this is going to be a Thing. And a Thing is going to prevent him from doing work.
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Date: 2017-04-25 05:08 pm (UTC)"These," it's a risk, but one he's impulsively taking before he thinks it through, as he reaches out and yanks the screwdriver out of the older man's hand, "are my tools." he dangles the screwdriver in front of him.
"And this..." he makes a vague motion, pointing absently with the tool toward himself, "is my life, and you had NO right to bust me out like that." The last of those words are punctuated by Cisco throwing the screwdriver back on the table, because he really doesn't need it he's just making a point.
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Date: 2017-05-14 09:50 pm (UTC)"They were going to find out eventually," he says it dismissively and shakes his head, turning away from Cisco to look back at something on the workbench. Clearly it's more important. "Isn't that what you're all spewing about all the time? Honesty?"
Just calling you on your own bullshit.
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Date: 2017-05-14 10:08 pm (UTC)HR; post season three!
Date: 2017-07-30 03:11 am (UTC)While Barry had intended to rewrite the past, to let his friend, his teammate survive, and to return to the present with that fixed, the speed force had other things in mind. Rather, it was going to preserve HR's life, of course, save him by just a hair, but it wasn't going to rewrite the painful feeling of thinking he was lost, he was dead for a whole week.
Call it a time paradox. Call it blinking and reappearing into existence a week later. Call it whatever you want.
Either way, it's been a week and the funeral has definitely happened and now the very man who had given his life to finally be a hero is very much alive and very much waking up in the middle of STAR labs. His eyes flutter open and he realizes he's on the work bench, sprawled out and his foot almost knocking tools and gadgets off the desk.
"Ow, what in the world...." He sits up, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing at the loud creak. "Talk about a rude awakening...Is that a pair of pliers--"
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Date: 2017-08-05 03:57 am (UTC)Every nerve he has is frayed at the edges and he's kind of beginning to wonder just how much loss a person can handle before it becomes too much to bear any more. Not that he knows what the endgame of that would be. But he'd like to stop losing. It's become far too frequent of an occurrence in his life and he's just...tired.
As Cisco wanders through the lab to the workshop, the last thing he would expect is that voice. He pauses and frowns, trying to decide if it was possible that maybe it was Harry.
But it's not.
It can't be. Because Harry's voice is never quite so amiable...
He blinks and shakes his head, convincing himself he must be wrong, it's not possible-- except, well, there he is. In all his fumbling, confused glory. "HR?"
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Date: 2017-08-05 04:16 am (UTC)He says it quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to get the stubborn knot out. When his gaze settles on Cisco, his eyes light up in some showing of relief.
"How long was I--" A pause, and the jovial tone dies off as his words trail off. Something is wrong. He can tell by the look on Cisco's face. Instantly, his head begins to hurt, his hands coming up to clutch at the side of his head. Right. The last thing he remembered was standing out in the cold, staring down Barry Allen, Savitar at his side --
"...How?" It's barely above a whisper and he quickly drops his hands to his chest, patting himself down. "But."
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Date: 2017-08-05 04:29 am (UTC)"Don't ask me how, I was at your funeral, what-- y-- this is..." Wait. No. This can't be right. Real. Right...? "A stress dream. Just--" he mumbles something incoherent about fingers and dreams, counting his fingers. "...nine, ten...nope. Okay. Not a dream?" He looks back over at HR, staring still in wild disbelief.
And then he finds his feet again and reaches for a hug as soon as enough space is crossed to reach him. "How the hell are you in my workshop, you sneaky bastard?"
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Date: 2017-09-05 10:16 pm (UTC)"Hey, you know I'm not good at all the ... science mumbo jumbo behind it. I could hardly believe it myself!" The words are laughed, weak, tired, and partially get caught in Cisco's messy hair, the hug still continuing.
"...Did that guy show up? You know, the Handsome one? The other me? Did he cry?" Now is probably not the time for jokes, but he's curious and he'd rather dwell on that then the pain he likely inflicted on all his friends - the first group of people to truly ever care.
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Date: 2017-09-10 07:48 pm (UTC)"I don't think Harry's tear ducts actually function," he smirks a little, but it fades a moment later. There's something so weary and tired behind the more obvious brightness in the older man's eyes and he knows better than most how it feels to know you aren't supposed to be alive, even when you are. Cisco wants to say something, to ask about it, tell HR that he can talk to him about it if he wants, but bringing it up in the midst and the immediate after he came back seems cruel, somehow, so he doesn't.