Chapter 57 – "Things Left Unsaid"
One week.
That's how long Dante had been asleep.
Unmoving. Unchanged.
Alive, but absent.
The world didn't stop just because someone important was lying still.
Central City moved on—its wounds slowly healing. The blood of Zoom's army was scrubbed from the streets, their bodies disposed of, their names already forgotten by the people they once terrorized.
The Flash helped clean up the city.
It gave Barry something to do—something to fix when there was nothing he could fix about Dante.
There were still problems.
Metahumans stirred chaos, and the Flash stopped them, like always. Fast. Efficient. Tired.
Then the Legends came.
They needed Firestorm.
Ronnie Raymond and Martin Stein—fused together again and still learning how to be more than just parts of a weapon—were asked to join the team across time.
Just for one or two missions.
A test.
They went.
And they actually liked it.
Ronnie, especially.
For once, he felt needed. Like he had a purpose. A role to play.
Central City had Barry Allen.
It didn't need Firestorm.
But time?
Time needed him.
Caitlin felt the silence more than anyone.
Ronnie was gone.
Dante still wasn't awake.
She didn't know what to do with the quiet anymore.
So she called Ronnie.
Asked him to come back.
Just for a day.
And he did.
They met in the Cortex. It started gentle.
Talk. Smiles. Old memories.
Then the edge crept in.
Unspoken pain turned to sharp words.
Words became arguments.
Arguments became yelling.
Cisco and Barry heard it from the hallway.
They didn't interfere.
Not yet.
"I miss you," Caitlin said. Her voice shook, but it was still hers.
"You don't miss me," Ronnie snapped. "You miss not being alone."
"That's not fair—"
"Isn't it? You called me here, dragged me from the team, because you're lonely."
"No, I—Ronnie, I need you—"
"You need me? When's the last time you even looked at me like I mattered? You sit by his bed every day. You hold his hand. You cry over him."
"Dante is—he's not okay, Ronnie. I feel responsible—"
"Yeah," Ronnie said bitterly. "You feel. You cry. But not for me. Not anymore."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?"
And then he said it.
Words she'd never forget.
"Why do you even care? You love Dante."
Caitlin froze. Her lips parted. She stared at him like the world had tilted sideways.
Ronnie kept going.
"You think I don't see it? I'm your husband, for God's sake! And I don't even exist anymore—not when he's in the room. You're nothing but a liar. A cheating wife."
The silence that followed was worse than a scream.
Caitlin didn't argue.
She just started crying.
Barry saw red.
He didn't run in.
He walked.
Every step heavy.
Deliberate.
Cisco backed away instinctively, sensing the change.
Barry reached Ronnie, grabbed the front of his shirt, and shoved him—hard.
He hit the Cortex doors, stumbling back.
"Get out," Barry said.
His voice wasn't loud.
It was quiet.
Cold.
Flat.
The same voice Dante used when he was done pretending.
"Barry—" Ronnie started.
"Get out."
Ronnie looked confused. Angry. Embarrassed. But he didn't resist.
He turned and walked out.
And Barry followed him to the door.
"If I ever see your face again," Barry said, "I'll break your neck."
Ronnie stopped.
The words didn't sound like a threat.
They sounded like a promise.
"You hurt my friend," Barry continued, "and I'll hurt you."
Ronnie didn't answer.
He walked away.
Caitlin sat on the floor.
Her shoulders shaking.
Cisco helped her up slowly, but she didn't say anything.
Didn't look at anyone.
Barry stood in the doorway, staring at the empty space Ronnie had left behind.
He wasn't proud of what he said.
But he didn't regret it.
Later, Barry sat beside Dante's bed.
The same chair Caitlin used.
He looked at the sleeping man—eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly.
"You slept through everything," Barry whispered. "You always find a way to skip the drama, don't you?"
No response.
Of course not.
Barry smiled faintly.
He leaned back, sighing.
"You'd have hit him," Barry said. "I know it. You'd have punched him the second he said that to her. And you'd be right."
He glanced at the door.
Caitlin was in the hallway, talking to Cisco.
Broken. Soft. Fragile.
"She doesn't love you," Barry whispered. "She feels guilty. We all do. But you know that. You've always known that."
His voice softened.
"But if you don't wake up soon, man… I don't know how much longer she'll hold together."
He placed a hand gently on Dante's shoulder.
"I need you to come back. For her. For all of us."
He stood up.
Paused.
Then added, almost inaudibly: "For me, too."
Somewhere far from the Cortex.
Far from the arguments, the pain, the shattered pieces of a marriage and the haunting silence of a hospital bed…
In the deepest corner of a cracked soul—
A boy stood alone in the snow.
Dante.
Eyes closed.
Arms crossed over his chest.
Surrounded by nothing but silence.
He could feel the echoes now.
Not sounds.
But emotions.
The fight. The shame. The tears.
The love.
The guilt.
All of it.
And he didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't run toward it.
He just listened.
And for the first time in a long time… he didn't feel alone.
Not completely.
Not anymore.
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