Author's Notes: Greetings! I don't believe we've been properly introduced - you can call me truffles.

Let me shed a little light on this fic.

In 1.23 ("Fast Enough"), Barry travels back in time to prevent Nora's murder. While he's there, he sees a vivid red lookalike who holds up a hand and shakes his head, telling him not to save Nora. That's the future Barry. We know what happens to what I shall affectionately refer to as "our Barry." What happened to future Barry?

This fic opens at future Barry's graduation ceremony. Our Barry is dreaming, and future Barry already graduated - it's a memory of future Barry's graduation. (Which, and this is why I didn't specifically time-mark it in the fic, would then be taking place in future Barry's past - time travel! *jazz hands*). Our Barry understands that it's too realistic to be a dream, but he doesn't fully understand how he acquired another person's (future Barry's) memories. Our Barry has more insights throughout the fic, seeing into a life that appears to be so much better than his own - future Barry is successful, good at the heroics, and happy - except there's a catch.

Future Barry's life isn't going all too well. Once the Reverse Flash shows up on the scene, future Barry - who never met Caitlin, Cisco, and Co. - would have no team to help him take down the Reverse Flash. Future Barry is getting destroyed. Future Barry is already destined to die before they ever travel back in time because he just has no way to stop the Reverse Flash, and I grounded that desperation and unnerving certainty by telling it from our Barry's perspective - which is probably why it can be confusing from an outside perspective. I apologize for that; as a writer, I try to keep things as simple and comprehensible as possible, but for a fic titled "Paradox" in my documents, that's pretty much exactly what this is.

Our Barry walks us through the last few hours of future Barry's life: the foretold confrontation with the Reverse Flash on April 25, 2024, where, if you read the article closely, the Flash/Reverse-Flash "vanish in a flash of white light." The unintentional time-travel when future Barry gets back on his feet for one last confrontation. Our Barry realizes that the Reverse Flash is going to kill Barry's child self to ensure that future Barry (and our Barry, for that matter) never exist.

Now here's where it gets difficult to spell out simply in fic format without breaking character: our Barry and future Barry are two separate people, occupying two different timelines (our Barry even references this, noting that future Barry is a different person), but they're also "Barry." They are the same person. When their timelines interact, future Barry and our Barry acquire each other's memories. Except only our Barry survived in this timeline; the future Barry died shortly after the confrontation with Nora Allen and the Reverse Flash. Thus, our Barry incorporated the future Barry's memories and even personality as his own, aware of that Barry's timeline and equally, vividly aware of his destruction.

With that said, I hope you enjoy it!

Paradoxes haunt Barry's sleep.

When he closes his eyes, he can see them; it's like living in a memory built by another person.

Oh my God you made it. (Barry's breathless, exhilarated, and he doesn't know why he should be surprised, of course his parents would make it to his college graduation ceremony, but his heart is pounding in his chest as he rushes up to greet them, his father catching him in a hard hug.)

Wouldn't miss it for a little car trouble, would we? (He's grinning, ruffling Barry's hair, and Barry's never felt more satisfied. Except then his dad lets him go and he sees mom, actually starts crying as he puts his arms around her, hugs her tight.)

Sorry we're late. (She's holding him and she smells like her perfume, an indefinable fragrance, like flowers but sweeter, stardust-y, inseparably comforting.)

(Barry laughs, little more than a hiccup of amusement.) It's okay. (And he shouldn't be crying: they're not going away – they made it – and he's graduating college and they have so much to celebrate, why is he crying?) You're just in time. (It's not even a lie. The ceremony is underway, but the introductions are long and tedious and Barry doesn't remember them, anyway.)

We should find our seats. (She lets him go and he tries to hold on, tries to say Mom, please, don't leave me, but she's right, the field is getting crowded and Barry's absence will be noticed if they call his name and he isn't ready to accept his diploma. They'll be there to hug him again once he walks off the stage.)

You make us so proud. (Dad always makes him cry harder without trying to, and Barry needs to compose himself, but he's so overjoyed, he's so happy, and there's something impulsive and vital about the way he catches Barry in one last hug.) Go get 'em, slugger.

(He steals glances at the stand where they're sitting throughout the ceremony, can't take his eyes of them. Hungry for their presence, needing them more than he needs his degree, than he needs a career, than he needs anything. When the dean calls his name he makes it to the stage, and he can feel the woodwork under his feet, the gentle summer breeze ruffling his cap, the way his heart is racing with nerves and excitement, every sensation magnified, brightened. He walks up onto the platform and has his hand shaken by three familiar professors, all of whom smile at him, they're so proud, he's almost top of his class in physics, and he's going to be so great, and he's got such a bright future ahead of him, and everything is unbreakable.)

All right, Allens, one for the album. (Joe's holding up a camera, grinning at them, and Barry smiles back, even if there's a weird feeling in his heart like he's supposed to remember something, but all he can focus on is the slightly overly warm feeling of his gown, the way his mom and dad wrap their arms around his back and shoulders, the way the flash of the camera goes off and—)

Barry gasps, resurfacing. There are tears on his face, it was so real, and he can feel the ache in his chest so strongly he wonders if it's possible to die from a broken heart (of course it is).

He's making more noise than he intends to, trying to suppress the strangled sobs into a pillow that he crushes against his chest. It happened, it happened, somewhere, some Barry got to have his parents, got to hug them at graduation, got to be an Allen.

He's still sobbing when he feels Joe sit on the bed beside him, wrap his arms around him, and hold him close as Barry tries to hold his own body together, tries not to fall apart. Joe is hugging him hard and telling him in a low, soothing voice that "it's okay, Bar. It's okay. It was just a dream."

There's absolutely no way to put any of it into words, so he doesn't try, hugging the pillow and wishing with every fiber of his being that it was his mom, his dad.

"I've got you," Joe tells him. He leans into Joe's embrace, his fingers losing their grip. "It's okay."

When Joe asks if he wants to talk about it, Barry shakes his head, eyes closed, feeling drained in the aftermath.

He can't sleep, tells Joe in a voice warbled by grief, "I've got to take a run," and does so, switching into the Flash's uniform as he goes.

When he runs, it's easier to bear, like the two selves he knows merge, the future one, the present one. The future one understands him, grieves for him, but there was also absolution in his gaze when he looked at Barry and held up a hand, shaking his head frantically.

Barry could not have disobeyed him. He couldn't.

So he let his own heart be crushed to save the future.

Barry runs mindlessly, as much as he can, as fast as he dares, aware that he leaves glass-shattering booms in his wake, wreaking havoc. He switches paths, veers out into the open countryside instead, tries to forget it all. To outrun what he can't bear to live.

It used to feel like the worst thing that could happen to him was being powerless to save his mom, his future.

Now he knows that isn't true.

The worst thing is seeing what could have been, to see them alive and happy and well. To see a life that Dr. Harrison Wells – the Reverse Flash – Eobard Thawne never broke.

He runs until his feet hurt, until his chest aches, and then he turns and runs back to Central City before dawn breaks.

Easy, slugger, his dad tells him, slowing him to a jog. You don't want to overdo it.

There's something strange about his future self, something hard to define. Like he isn't quite Barry. Like he's someone else entirely.

We became different people the night Mom died.

Joe was still family, but he wasn't Dad.

And Barry had a subtle but absolute sense that Cisco and Caitlin weren't a part of that future, either.

He makes it to Star Labs and he's fine, he's fine, and focusing on the next meta-human outbreak is so much easier than trying to encapsulate everything he is feeling.

At some point between here's what we've got and here's what we don't know, Cisco claps him on the back and Barry's aware that his touch lingers just a fraction of a second too long, an involuntary reaction that wouldn't be noticed by someone with slower reflexes.

He notices. And Cisco does, too.

Barry can feel his future self sharing dinners with his parents, watching them read, and just being a part of their lives. He also sees himself as the Flash, and his uniform is brighter, a reflection of everything about his future, brighter, and there's a Flash Day there, too, except the Barry of that lifetime doesn't hesitate to accept the key to the city, walks up to the podium with strong steps, knowing his parents are in the crowd, that the entire city is his to protect, and he is an Atlas, strong enough to protect all of them.

Except – with every step he becomes aware of the agonizing, debilitating pain, pain he doesn't understand, pain he's never experienced before, pain that originates back at one source: the Reverse Flash.

There's a throb in Barry's right hip, a phantom reminder of an injury he never experienced, and as he stumbles Cisco calls out to him, "Barry?" just before he goes down.

(And oh, the pain is sharper here, a lot sharper, he's trying and he's trying and he's trying but the Reverse Flash is relentless, impossible to catch, and no matter how fast Barry gets he never seems to get any faster, piques and then plateaus, never finding the right motivation to run faster. He needs to beat the Reverse Flash, but as more and more quasi-permanent injuries accumulate, he becomes aware of how pyrrhic the victory is.)

You need to be careful. (That's his dad's voice, strong, authoritative, as Barry gingerly rotates his left shoulder, trying to keep the muscles strong, the joints mobile.) You can't beat this guy. The police will find a way to catch him. Focus on what you can beat. Don't fall for his distractions.

They're not distractions. (Doesn't even sound like his voice, husky, deep, and he feels like he's nursing cracked ribs, recalls falling out of a three-story window in a chase he never actually participated in.) More people are going to die if I don't stop them. (Like Cisco. Like Caitlin.)

(The bedroom dissolves and he's standing in the streets, bleeding from the mouth, struggling to distract the Reverse Flash long enough that the nearby residents can evacuate because Barry cannot let them become collateral damage, he's lost too many people already, too many, too many, too many.)

You can't stop me. (The Reverse-Flash sneers at him, rushes up to capture him, and he breaks Barry's arm as casually as shaking his hand. Barry's groan is softened, abbreviated, almost dulled to the pain.) I'm the fastest man alive.

(Then he throws him and Barry tumbles, crashes into the cement with a muffled cry, feeling fire burning through his veins as he gets up on his knees. Fury is overtaking the pain: fury at his own helplessness, at the Reverse Flash's power, and suddenly he's not on the ground but up and running, running, running as hard and fast as he can, because he refuses to live like this, refuses to let anyone live like this.)

You can't beat me. (The Reverse Flash vanishes and reappears behind him. Barry narrowly dodges a world-ending swipe, recovers, charges again.) You will never beat me. (He grunts hard as the Reverse Flash punches him in the stomach, and he can tell instantly that it's bad, very bad. He needs to back out, get help, but the pain is only making it worse, the fire, the rage, the fury.)

I can. (He's coughing blood, must look like death, and he feels it, feels it coming as inexorably as the air seeping out from his lunga. Barry knows that this isn't the end of the Reverse Flash, this is the beginning, and if Barry isn't there to stop him no one will survive.)

(The Reverse Flash ignores him and takes off, coming to a halt maybe a hundred yards away, and Barry knows what he's about to do, knows instinctively he's going for the same lightning strike that gives Barry his speed, and it's blurred as he begins to run, begins to conjure a bolt, begins to take over his world.)

Run. Run. Run. RUN, BARRY, RUN.

(The voice from nowhere propels him and he's moving, and suddenly the Reverse Flash isn't moving too fast to see but in slow motion, and there's a beat when Barry sees himself dead, sees the lightning bolt cutting through him, instantly killing him, but instead he yells as he crashes into the Reverse-Flash at the highest velocity he knows, the speed of light.)

(Then time does not exist and Barry does not know what's happening, neither of them do, present-Barry, past-Barry, future-Barry, reference points don't exist in a timeless universe, and then they crash into Barry's old living room and he can feel the storm about to unfold.)

(The Reverse Flash isn't going to kill this Barry. He's going to kill Barry's eleven-year-old self. Prevent him from ever becoming the Flash. Hurt a lot more people, people that the Flash won't ever save because he won't be alive to save them, he'll disappear from existence.)

(Barry can't let that happen so he ignores the pain, ignores everything except the lightning and the Reverse Flash smashes him against the window, the walls, but he still manages to fight, ignores the blood that paints the room, ignores the way that somewhere he's gone critical, that he's going to die.)

(There's a brief instant when he looks up and sees – a blur, a red blur that looks exactly like him except the blur is standing behind a doorway and it's him, it's Barry.)

Don't do it.

(Because in that instant, Barry of the future, Barry of the past, they're the same person, and he can feel the way that the petrified Barry hiding behind the door isn't dying, how he isn't terrified to sleep, how he's full of something, life, love, a willingness to survive that the dying Barry isn't, he doesn't have it in him anymore, he's not going to be able to run much longer with the pain in his hip, the horrible, driving, agonizing pain.)

(So Barry does the only thing he can: he holds up his hand and shakes his head. Don't do it.)

(And then he sweeps his eleven-year-old self into his arms and takes off.)

(Barry can feel the way his boyish self clings, terrified, to the Flash's suit, instinctively grabbing at it as they run, run, run, as far as Barry can, as far as his legs will take him. He's losing his ground quickly, drops his eleven-year-old self maybe fifteen, twenty blocks away, and then he runs back, prays that nothing has changed, except there's an absolutely piercing pain in his chest now, like a heart attack, and he can't move, can't breathe, can't think.)

(And as the Barry of the past weeps over the body of his mother, a mother that the Barry of the future could not let him save, a future that would undo both of them, allowing a man who would destroy their lives to change both of their futures forever – Barry also feels a cool, clawed hand curl over his shoulder, feels something curl its arms under his shoulders and knees, and he's aware of its shape, almost like a speedster, jet-black and looming, and knows instinctively its name: Black Flash.)

(Then Death sweeps him gently into its arms and carries him home.)

. o .

"Barry?"

There's a cool hand on his arm, shaking him lightly, and Barry opens his eyes and sees Caitlin and Cisco there, frowning at him, worried. His body aches, but the pain in his hip is dissolving, the future Barry envisioned becoming less real.

"What happened?" he asks, dry, husky, and it feels strange to have a voice. It feels strange to exist. Lying on the gurney, he feels oddly vulnerable without that looming specter, like a child in the dark, somehow expected to navigate the world on his own.

I've controlled your life for so long, Barry, the Reverse Flash sneered at him as he became undone, as he dissolved from existence, what will you do without me?

"You passed out," Cisco supplies, frowning worriedly. "Have you been eating enough? You seem really pale."

"Yeah." His voice is still weak and thin, like it doesn't quite belong to him – or, maybe, he's trying to belong to it again, to remind himself that this is his life, that he's still alive.

"I got a weird Vibe from you," Cisco admits, folding his arms. "Like there were two of you, but I couldn't see what was happening, it moved too fast."

Barry sits up slowly and lets Caitlin help him, feeling her arm steady him around his back. "Don't ask me to explain it," he says thickly, feeling a grief for that other Barry so profound he can't put it into words, either. "I can't."

Caitlin rubs his back, and Barry thinks he really must look bad, because even she isn't saying anything, telling him off for not eating enough or prodding him to explain what's really wrong.

Cisco claps his hands together. Looks between them. Makes a quick decision. "Okay, I'm whipping up some normal hot chocolate for the non-speedsters and high-calorie hot chocolate for any speedsters in the room."

For a moment, Barry almost says, There's two of us. But that other Barry is gone, vanished.

He watches Cisco walk away instead, heading off towards the kitchens, and knows that he's doing him a favor, giving him space.

"Whatever happened," Caitlin tells him softly, sitting on the bed beside him, letting him rest his head on her shoulder, and it's calming to feel how solid and grounded her presence is in his life, incontrovertible, "it's okay now."

Barry thinks of Zoom, thinks of the entity – Black Flash, its name is Black Flash – and thinks of what he's trying to achieve. What he can't sacrifice to achieve it.

I died once trying to stop a speedster who still ruined my life, he thinks, slowly wrapping his mind around it, listening to the calming tattoo of Caitlin's heartbeat as she rubs his back in sweeping strokes. I won't let it happen again.

. o .

Barry is given one moment of clarity as they drink hot chocolate together and Caitlin and Cisco argue over the best means to communicate with aliens.

He thinks of that ache in his hip, remembers how it made him stumble in the street that day, allowed the Reverse Flash to snatch him, to gain the upper hand. The pain added the faintest limp to his step that, fatally, would undo him.

On April 25, 2024.

As he faced off against the Reverse-Flash for the last time.

When he vanished in a brilliant flare of white light, he didn't just take the Reverse Flash and himself down – he took their whole future.

Barry watches Cisco as he leans over him to show Caitlin his tablet, demonstrating a point. He feels their warmth from their intertwined legs, sprawled on the floor, and breathes in the smell of hot chocolate. And he knows, too, that his mom is gone but his dad is still here, and he has more than that: he has Iris and Joe to go home to.

And at last he thinks, Whatever happens, everything is going to be okay.