[ It had been stupid to assume they wouldn't get separated when they entered the breach.
For a moment, he thinks they've failed completely; Harry walks into the churning lights, and when the disorientation flickers out he's right back in S.T.A.R. Labs. He does a full turn when he realizes he hasn't been turned back on the place he'd left — it's the cortex, late. The lights are off, though the room's still awash in the blue of the screens. ]
Cisco!
[ Sharp and impatient, though that's more to do with the results than blame. There's no answer. Harry checks his watch, then leans over one of the idling computers and strikes it to life with the keyboard, blue eyes seeking out the time.
He doesn't recognize the electric whir of the wheelchair right away. It sinks in abruptly, takes a few seconds, and when it does he turns quickly towards the door. His hand finds a grip on the gun in the duffel bag that's slung across his chest, but his expression's neutral as the source of the noise comes into view. ]
Eobard Thawne.
[ Impulsive. He knows it's a mistake the moment he's said it, but it's difficult to regret it. He doesn't sound scared. He sounds mildly annoyed, long-suffering; like the man wearing his face is a passing frustration instead of a real threat. ]
[ Eobard hears a voice shouting Cisco's name. And it's familiar to him, strikingly so. The first few months of living this new life as Doctor Harrison Wells, hearing himself speak was unsettling. But now it is his voice, as familiar to him as breathing. As familiar to him as this body. ]
Gideon. [ He says, polite as he always is. ] Show me the feeds from the Cortex.
Of course, Doctor Wells. [ Within seconds the feeds pop up along the far wall and his eyes are immedielty drawn to impossibility of the man standing in the bridge. Eobard steps closer, eyes fixed him and he remembers then, that moment they met so long ago. When he'd burned that man's face into his memory.
It takes little time to roll into the Cortex. He can't help but stay cautious, unsure how much this man knows. But he turns and promptly says Eobard's name, eliminating any cause for pretense.
He smiles then, eyes vivid and intense behind his glasses as he stares at the other man. Easily rising from the chair, he steps closer to Doctor Harrison Wells. The Harrison Wells of his memory. The man he went looking for fifteen years before only to be disappointed.
This. This was the man he'd wanted to find. ]
Harrison Wells. [ he says voice mild even while his smile broadens into a sharklike grin. ] I admit. This is quite the surprise.
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For a moment, he thinks they've failed completely; Harry walks into the churning lights, and when the disorientation flickers out he's right back in S.T.A.R. Labs. He does a full turn when he realizes he hasn't been turned back on the place he'd left — it's the cortex, late. The lights are off, though the room's still awash in the blue of the screens. ]
Cisco!
[ Sharp and impatient, though that's more to do with the results than blame. There's no answer. Harry checks his watch, then leans over one of the idling computers and strikes it to life with the keyboard, blue eyes seeking out the time.
He doesn't recognize the electric whir of the wheelchair right away. It sinks in abruptly, takes a few seconds, and when it does he turns quickly towards the door. His hand finds a grip on the gun in the duffel bag that's slung across his chest, but his expression's neutral as the source of the noise comes into view. ]
Eobard Thawne.
[ Impulsive. He knows it's a mistake the moment he's said it, but it's difficult to regret it. He doesn't sound scared. He sounds mildly annoyed, long-suffering; like the man wearing his face is a passing frustration instead of a real threat. ]
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Gideon. [ He says, polite as he always is. ] Show me the feeds from the Cortex.
Of course, Doctor Wells. [ Within seconds the feeds pop up along the far wall and his eyes are immedielty drawn to impossibility of the man standing in the bridge. Eobard steps closer, eyes fixed him and he remembers then, that moment they met so long ago. When he'd burned that man's face into his memory.
It takes little time to roll into the Cortex. He can't help but stay cautious, unsure how much this man knows. But he turns and promptly says Eobard's name, eliminating any cause for pretense.
He smiles then, eyes vivid and intense behind his glasses as he stares at the other man. Easily rising from the chair, he steps closer to Doctor Harrison Wells. The Harrison Wells of his memory. The man he went looking for fifteen years before only to be disappointed.
This. This was the man he'd wanted to find. ]
Harrison Wells. [ he says voice mild even while his smile broadens into a sharklike grin. ] I admit. This is quite the surprise.