---
The next morning came quiet.
Sky was gray. Light rain tapped the glass above STAR Labs. Everything felt a little slower. A little heavier.
Linda stood in the hallway just outside the cortex, hands in her pockets, hair tied back. No mask. No cuffs. Just her, standing like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to breathe here.
Inside, the team had gathered.
Cisco was half-sitting on the edge of a desk, coffee in hand. Caitlin leaned back in a chair, arms crossed. Iris sat on the couch beside Eddie, who looked half asleep. Joe stood in the corner with that look—cop eyes, arms folded, no-nonsense.
And at the front of the room, Barry stood in the Flash suit. Cowl off. Serious face on.
HR Wells leaned on his cane beside him, dressed like he was late for a jazz concert.
Barry looked at them all.
"Okay," he started. "So… this might be a surprise to some of you."
"Define 'some,'" Cisco said, sipping his coffee.
Barry didn't smile. "I want Linda to join the team."
Silence.
Not just quiet. Real silence.
Iris blinked. "Wait—join? As in, what? Like… help us?"
Barry nodded. "Yeah. I think she can."
Caitlin raised an eyebrow. "Barry, she's… Dr. Light. She was sent here to kill you."
"I know what she's done," Barry said calmly. "But I also know what she hasn't done. She hasn't run. She hasn't lashed out. She's been here, watching, learning. And she could've escaped a dozen times. She didn't."
Cisco looked toward the door. "And you're sure she's not just waiting for the right moment?"
Barry didn't answer right away. Then he looked toward the door and said, "Linda. Come in."
The door slid open.
Linda walked in slow. Not like a villain. Not like a guest.
Just like someone who wasn't sure what they were anymore.
She stood near Barry. Didn't speak. Didn't make eye contact.
The silence came back.
Then—HR stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"I'd like to say something, if I may," he said, twirling his cane once before leaning on it.
Joe gave him a look. "You always want to say something."
"Right, right," HR grinned. "But this time, it matters."
He looked at Linda.
"Do I trust her? Yeah. I do. Not because she's harmless—she's definitely not. But because I've watched her. She's not trying to escape. She's not trying to play us. She's trying to figure herself out. And honestly?" He turned back to the team. "That's all any of us were doing when we got here. Especially me."
Linda shifted slightly, but said nothing.
HR nodded. "Dr. Light isn't a threat. Not anymore. In fact, I'd argue she's one of the better people in this building right now."
That earned a raised eyebrow from Cisco. "Wow. Thanks, dude."
HR waved him off. "You know what I mean."
Barry turned to the rest of the group. "She won't have full access to the labs. She won't be going on missions. Not yet. But she'll train. She'll work with us. And when Zoom's gone, she'll go back to her life. Clean slate."
Iris frowned, arms crossed. "You're really sure about this?"
Barry looked at Linda.
She looked back.
"…Yeah. I am."
Then the door opened again.
Jay Garrick stepped in.
Not the real Jay. Not yet. Not the truth.
Just the lie he wore.
He looked around the room, eyes sharp, mouth tight.
"She shouldn't be here."
Everyone turned to him.
Jay stepped closer, arms at his sides. "Zoom doesn't forgive. He doesn't forget. You don't understand what it means to cross him. People like her—they'll say whatever they need to survive. They'll betray whoever they need to avoid his wrath."
Barry's expression didn't change.
Jay's voice stayed even. "She's dangerous."
Barry stepped forward.
And said calmly, "Who asked you?"
Jay's face twitched. Just a little.
Cisco looked between them, confused. "Whoa, okay…"
"I said," Barry repeated, "Who asked for your opinion?"
Jay opened his mouth—but no words came out.
Barry took another step, now toe-to-toe with him.
"You think I don't know how fear works?" Barry said. "You think I don't know what people will do to survive? I've seen it. I've lived it."
Jay said nothing.
Barry's eyes narrowed.
"And the thing is… you talk a lot about Zoom. About how scary he is. About how no one stands a chance. You've been saying it since the day you got here."
Iris stood up slowly.
Eddie leaned forward.
Barry didn't look away from Jay.
"But I've never seen you fight him. Not once. You're always too injured. Too slow. Or just a little too late."
Jay's jaw clenched. "What are you saying?"
Barry shrugged. "Nothing."
He stepped back.
Turned to the group.
"This isn't about him. This is about her."
Everyone looked at Linda again.
She met their eyes this time.
No mask. No fear. Just tired honesty.
Joe finally spoke up. "You sure about this, Barry?"
Barry nodded. "Yeah. I am."
Joe looked at Linda. Looked at Barry. Then nodded once.
Iris didn't look thrilled. But she didn't argue either.
Caitlin sighed. "Fine. She trains with us. No solo missions. And I mean it—first sign of trouble…"
"She's gone," Barry said. "Understood."
HR clapped his hands. "Well then! Let's get this redemption arc rolling!"
Cisco muttered, "It's not an anime, man."
HR leaned closer. "What's that again?"
Linda finally spoke.
"…Thank you."
Just a whisper. Barely a sound.
But Barry heard it.
He gave her a nod.
"You'll earn the rest."
And for the first time in a long time…
She believed she could.
Even if just a little.
Even if just for now.
---
Later that afternoon, the lab felt quieter than usual.
Most of the team had scattered. Iris left with Eddie. Caitlin was in the med bay. Barry was training with Linda in the Speed Lab—just light drills, nothing serious. Joe went home to check on Wally.
That left Jay and Cisco, both stuck in the archive room digging through storage units.
It was cramped. Dusty. Half the shelves had old devices Cisco swore he'd throw out three years ago. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed louder than it should.
Jay flipped through a small inventory tablet while Cisco kneeled down, prying open a metal case.
For a while, neither said anything.
Just the soft clink of tools. A faint sigh. The sound of a drawer sticking.
Then, without looking up, Cisco spoke.
"…Did I do something?"
Jay glanced at him.
Cisco kept his focus on the gear box. "To Barry, I mean. Did I do something to make him mad at me?"
Jay was quiet for a second. Then he shook his head. "No. It's not you."
Cisco stood up slowly, wiping his hands. "You sure? He's been… cold. Not just today. Since you showed up, he's been different."
Jay leaned against a shelf, arms crossed. His tone didn't change.
"He doesn't like me."
Cisco raised an eyebrow. "Come on, man. Barry's not like that."
Jay looked away. "He didn't like me the second I stepped into STAR Labs."
The way he said it—flat, simple, no bitterness—made Cisco frown.
He tried to play it off, but it stayed on his face for a second too long.
Jay noticed.
Cisco turned away, grabbing a cable off the wall.
"…That's weird," he said, trying to keep it casual. "Barry usually gives people a chance. All that hope and trust stuff. Sometimes too much of it."
Jay didn't answer.
Cisco plugged the cable into the wall, pretending like he didn't feel Jay watching him.
In his head, gears were turning.
That kind of honesty wasn't normal. Not from Jay.
And Barry snapping at him earlier? The way he stepped in front of him like that?
It wasn't just trust.
It felt personal.
Too personal.
Cisco's hand tightened slightly on the cable, but he didn't let it show on his face.
He turned back around with a forced shrug. "Well, maybe it's just stress. We've all been on edge lately. Dimensional breaches, metas, Zoom…"
Jay's eyes didn't blink.
"Yeah," he said. "Stress."
For a moment, they just stood there.
In the silence, something felt off. Like the space between them had shifted just a little.
Cisco broke the tension with a small chuckle. "Man, I hate this room. Smells like robot farts."
Jay didn't laugh.
He picked up the tablet and started scrolling again.
Cisco watched him for a beat too long.
Then turned back to the workbench.
He didn't say it out loud.
But a part of him had started paying closer attention.
Not just to what Jay said.
But to what he didn't say.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a question started forming.
A quiet, simple one.
Who really are you?
But for now, he kept that to himself.
For now.