Chapter 49 – "The Trust We Broke"
Barry Allen was healing.
His body was recovering slowly from the brutal attack by Zoom, but something was still… wrong.
His cells were charged with speed force.
His strength was returning.
But when he tried to run—nothing.
No motion. No blur.
Just silence.
He could feel the power inside him, but his legs wouldn't move the way they used to. His connection to the speed force felt… blocked. Caged.
And all around him, the city was falling.
Zoom and his army of metahumans tore through Central City like wild fire. Streets burned. Buildings crumbled. Civilians ran and screamed, and there was no one fast enough to save them.
Team Flash did what they could.
Ronnie and Stein used Stormfire sparingly, afraid of burning out.
Cisco tried to track attacks, warn people, help the police.
Caitlin worked night and day, healing the wounded and repairing what little tech they had left.
But without Barry…
Without Dante…
It wasn't enough.
And Dante—he hadn't come back.
No red lightning.
No shadowy presence.
No witty remark.
He simply did his job at CCPD.
Mop in hand. Head down.
Invisible.
People barely noticed him. Just a janitor. Just a boy with red hair and dead eyes. He didn't speak unless spoken to. He didn't use his powers. Not even once.
Barry, Caitlin, Cisco, and Ronnie hoped—prayed—that one day he would walk through the breach room again, ready to help.
But he didn't.
And deep down?
They didn't blame him.
....
Once, Dante had used his powers freely.
Ruthlessly.
He'd hunted evil metahumans and ended them. No hesitation. No mercy. That was his mission.
Until Team Flash stopped him.
Until they changed him.
He started to help them. To hold back. To save instead of destroy.
And he started to trust them.
He called them friends.
Family, even.
And what did they do?
They blamed him.
For things he didn't do.
They doubted him when he warned them about Jay.
They turned on him when Jay "died."
And when it turned out Dante was right all along—that Jay was Zoom, and Zoom had been playing them from the start—they tried to apologize.
But the damage had already been done.
The trust was broken.
And Dante wasn't a hero.
He never wanted to be one.
He didn't come to STAR Labs to be praised or thanked or loved.
He came to kill bad people and clean up the mess.
And when Team Flash changed that—they changed him.
Now?
Now he was nothing.
No killer.
No hero.
No ally.
Just a janitor.
Just a boy who had given everything, and walked away with nothing.
.....
The next morning, Barry limped slowly around the Cortex. His muscles ached with every step, but it wasn't the physical pain that weighed on him—it was everything else.
Zoom's voice still echoed in his mind.
"No one is coming to save you."
And maybe… Zoom was right.
Caitlin quietly stepped into the room. Her eyes were tired, her hands still stained from patching up Cisco the night before.
"He's here," she said softly.
Barry looked up. Confused. "Who?"
"Your dad," she whispered. "I called him."
Before Barry could speak, Henry Allen walked in through the door.
And Barry's heart lifted for the first time in days.
"Dad," he breathed, voice cracking.
He stumbled forward, and Henry caught him in a tight hug. "I got you," Henry whispered. "I'm here."
They held onto each other for a long time—father and son—two men who'd both lost too much and still carried more than they should.
When they finally sat down, Barry didn't talk about Zoom.
Didn't mention the battle.
Didn't speak of the pain.
He just looked at his father and let it spill.
"I need to talk to you about Dante," Barry said quietly.
Henry listened, patient as always.
"He told us," Barry began. "He told us Jay was hiding something. He said he could feel it—like something was wrong."
Barry shook his head slowly, face filled with shame.
"We didn't listen. None of us believed him. I told him he was paranoid. Caitlin got angry. Cisco ignored him. Ronnie just stayed silent. And then Jay died… or we thought he died. And we… we blamed Dante."
Henry's brows furrowed. "Blamed him? For what?"
Barry looked down at his hands.
"For warning us. For being right," he whispered. "We treated him like he was the one who killed Jay. We thought he was cold and heartless for accusing someone who died helping us. We made him feel like a villain."
Henry's eyes softened.
"And when we found out the truth—when we realized Jay was Zoom—we went to apologize. But he…"
Barry's voice broke.
"…he just looked at us. And he said we broke the trust."
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
True.
Henry leaned forward, hands clasped.
"Son," he said carefully, "some people are fragile in ways we don't understand. And it's not always about strength. Sometimes, when people give you their trust, it's everything they have. And if you break it…"
Barry nodded, eyes shimmering.
"I don't know how to fix it."
"Maybe you can't," Henry admitted. "But maybe that's not the point. Maybe the point is showing him you're still here. That you're sorry. And that what happened doesn't define what can happen next."
Barry swallowed hard.
"But what if he never comes back?"
Henry gave a faint smile.
"Then at least he'll know you still care."
And somehow, in that moment, Barry understood.
Dante might never forgive them.
Might never be the same.
But that didn't mean they should stop trying.
Because heroes don't just save people.
Sometimes…
They try to fix what they broke.
No matter how long it takes.
---
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