Chapter 16: The Smoke Between Storms
The hum of STAR Labs had become familiar now—not just to Barry, or Cisco, or Caitlin, but to the red-eyed stranger who once stood in the shadows and smoked like he owned the dark.
Dante Hart.
He wasn't officially on the team. No one said the word "welcome," no one asked him to stay—but somehow, he was there every day now. Like gravity pulled him in.
He'd show up just after noon. Quiet. Slow. Smoking a cigarette and leaning against the lab wall like he'd been born there. Most times he didn't speak. Sometimes he'd nod. Occasionally, he'd mutter something sarcastic when Cisco got too excited about a gadget.
But every day, he came back.
Barry noticed first.
"Wasn't expecting you again," he said one morning as Dante appeared by the Cortex doors, a coffee in one hand, smoke curling from his lips.
Dante shrugged. "Didn't say I was coming. Just did."
Barry tilted his head. "You're a hard guy to figure out."
"You're not supposed to figure me out."
And that was that.
He moved through the Cortex like a ghost in combat boots—silent, observant. The strange thing was: the longer he stayed, the less strange he felt.
---
Cisco watched him from across the lab with narrowed eyes, clearly thinking too much.
"You're designing something," Caitlin said, glancing over his shoulder.
"Oh, you know me," Cisco grinned. "I get ideas."
"You're designing a suit," she accused.
"I might be," he admitted. "A prototype. For Dante."
Caitlin smirked. "He's going to say no."
Cisco grinned wider. "Yeah, I know. But it's such a cool concept. All black. Matte armor plates. Reinforced for impact and electricity. Red lines pulsing through the chest. A long coat for dramatic effect—like a shadow with lightning veins."
She raised a brow. "You're romanticizing him like he's Batman."
"He smokes like Batman. Just angrier."
Just then, Dante walked past their station.
Cisco stood quickly, holding up the sketchpad. "Yo, Dante!"
Dante gave a flat look. "What."
"I designed you a suit."
Dante took the sketch, looked at it for three seconds, then handed it back. "No."
Cisco stared. "No feedback? No compliments?"
"I don't wear costumes."
"But—"
"I'm not a hero."
Cisco folded his arms. "You're seriously just going to keep showing up here dressed like you just walked out of a post-apocalyptic nightclub?"
Dante smirked. "Exactly."
He walked away, leaving Cisco grumbling about wasted talent and ungrateful meta-humans.
---
Days passed.
And with them came more moments.
Dante sat with Caitlin at the console during a quiet afternoon. Barry was out responding to a fire. Cisco was updating security software. Joe hadn't come in yet.
For once, things were quiet.
Caitlin glanced over at Dante, who was staring blankly at the screen in front of him.
"Okay," she said suddenly. "I have to ask."
He turned his head slightly. "You don't have to."
"I want to."
Dante shrugged.
Caitlin smiled faintly. "Why do you keep coming back here? I mean—I'm not saying you can't. It's just… you don't seem like the 'hang out with the nerds' type."
Dante looked at her for a moment. His face unreadable. Then he looked back at the screen and took a slow drag from his cigarette.
"You guys find trouble before it hits. I figure I should be around when it does."
"That's your reason?"
He nodded.
"No deeper meaning? No tragic past drawing you here? No need for connection?"
He smirked. "You're asking the wrong guy for emotions, Snow."
She chuckled. "Fine. I'll stop being a doctor for five seconds."
A silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
Then Dante said, softly, "Also, your coffee is better than mine."
Caitlin laughed, surprised. "You mean the coffee I make at 6 a.m. when you're not even here yet?"
He didn't answer. But the corner of his mouth curved just a little.
---
That night, Barry returned, winded and ash-stained, to find Dante helping Cisco calibrate a sensor.
"You're teaching him tech now?" Barry joked.
"No," Dante said flatly. "I'm correcting his stupidity."
"Wow," Cisco muttered, twisting a wire. "Thanks for the motivational speech, Darth Smoker."
Barry approached slowly. "You're really part of the team now, huh?"
Dante looked at him. "Don't get used to it."
Barry smiled. "Too late."
---
Later that night, as the Cortex emptied out one by one, Dante stayed behind. Alone.
He walked to the glass window overlooking the city skyline. The lights of Central City blinked like stars trapped in a jar.
He leaned against the frame and lit another cigarette.
"You gonna do this every night?" came a voice behind him.
Oliver.
He hadn't left yet.
Dante didn't turn around. "You mean brood in silence while overlooking a city I don't trust?"
"Yeah."
"Probably."
Oliver stepped up beside him, arms folded. "You're not like Barry."
"I know."
"You're not like me either."
"I know that too."
"So what are you?"
Dante blew out smoke and answered simply: "The thing between."
Oliver didn't speak for a moment. Then said, "You're going to have to choose eventually."
"I already did. I didn't kill Barry."
"That's not the choice I mean."
Dante glanced at him. "You're starting to sound like Wells."
Oliver smiled grimly. "Maybe we all do, eventually."
---
By the next morning, Dante was back.
Just like always.
No fanfare. No announcement. No explanation.
He stood in his usual spot. Lit his usual cigarette.
But something had shifted.
The team didn't flinch at his presence anymore. Didn't question it. Didn't whisper behind his back.
Dante Hart had become part of the storm.
Not a hero. Not a villain.
Just the quiet force standing in the fire, waiting for the next threat to show its face.
And when it did—
He would be there.
---
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