Chapter 25 : Return of the Dead — Part 1
The cortex alarms triggered at 3:47 PM.
I looked up from the security protocol I'd been reviewing, expecting another routine metahuman incident. Cisco was already at his console, pulling up feeds with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd done this hundreds of times.
"What've we got?"
"CCPD dispatch." He scrolled through reports, his expression shifting from professional interest to something else entirely. "Multiple sightings of a... 'burning man'? Flying. Erratic patterns. Three witnesses describe flames that don't spread to surrounding surfaces."
Firestorm.
The name surfaced from memory—not Harrison Griffin's memory, but mine. Ronnie Raymond merged with Martin Stein, a nuclear reaction in human form, one of the most powerful metahumans in the Arrowverse.
And Caitlin's dead fiancé.
"Pull up the footage," Barry said, appearing at Cisco's shoulder with characteristic speed. "Any cameras catch it?"
"Traffic cam at Fifth and Harbor. Timestamp 3:31 PM." Cisco's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Here we go."
The image was grainy, shot from an unfortunate angle, but unmistakable. A human figure wreathed in flame, hovering forty feet above the intersection. The fire pulsed with irregular rhythm—expanding, contracting, surging in patterns that suggested internal conflict rather than controlled combustion.
I watched Caitlin's face as the footage played.
The color drained from her cheeks in stages. First confusion, then recognition, then something that looked like a wound reopening.
"That's..." Her voice cracked. "That's Ronnie."
The name fell into the cortex like a stone into still water. Ripples spreading outward. Barry's expression shifted to concern. Cisco's fingers froze mid-keystroke.
I said nothing. There was nothing to say.
"Are you sure?" Barry asked gently. "The footage is pretty unclear—"
"I'm sure." Caitlin's hands gripped the edge of a console hard enough to whiten her knuckles. "I know how he moves. I know... I know."
The footage continued. The burning figure lurched eastward, disappearing from frame. Another camera picked up the trail briefly—a streak of fire across the evening sky, there and gone.
"Cisco, track the radiation signature." Caitlin's voice had shifted. The grief was still there, but overlaid with something harder. More focused. "Cross-reference with the accelerator's known emission patterns. If that's Ronnie—if he's been alive this whole time—"
"Cait." Barry stepped closer, hands raised in a calming gesture. "We need to approach this carefully. We don't know what state he's in, what he might—"
"I don't care what state he's in." She was already moving toward the exit. "I need to find him."
I intercepted her before she reached the door.
"Caitlin. Stop."
"Get out of my way, Harry."
"Not until you think about what you're doing." I kept my voice level, my posture blocking but not aggressive. "That figure is emitting nuclear radiation. Flying erratically. Showing signs of severe instability. If you run toward him without a plan—"
"He's my fiancé."
"He's a potential nuclear explosion." The words were harsh. Necessary. "You can't help him if you're dead."
She tried to push past me. I didn't move.
For a moment, I saw rage in her eyes—the fury of someone being prevented from reaching what they loved most. Her hands pressed against my chest, shoving with surprising strength.
I absorbed the impact without budging.
"Let me go."
"No."
"Harry, I swear to God—"
"I'm not letting you get yourself killed." I caught her wrists gently but firmly. "If that's really Ronnie, we'll find him. Together. With a plan that doesn't end with you irradiated or burned."
The fight left her in stages. The tension in her arms eased. Her breathing shifted from frantic to ragged. And then she collapsed against me, her forehead pressing into my shoulder.
The sound she made wasn't quite crying. Worse than crying. The broken noise of someone who'd finally processed what they were seeing.
Two years of grief. Two years of building a new life on the foundation of loss. And now the dead man walked again, wrapped in fire she couldn't touch.
I held her while she shook.
Barry and Cisco gave us space.
They retreated to the far side of the cortex, discussing tracking options in low voices while I stood with Caitlin in my arms. The minutes stretched. Her trembling gradually subsided, replaced by the rigid stillness of someone forcing themselves back together.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was muffled against my shirt. "I shouldn't have—"
"You don't need to apologize."
"I tried to push you."
"I've had worse."
She pulled back, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. The gesture was familiar—I'd seen her do it during tough conversations, during moments when emotion threatened to overwhelm professionalism.
"He was dead." She spoke as if trying to convince herself. "The accelerator exploded. Ronnie went into the chamber. There was nothing left."
"Bodies weren't recovered from every section." The information came from Harrison Griffin's STAR Labs knowledge—technical details about the aftermath, the chaos of the explosion, the incomplete accounting. "It's possible he survived in some altered state."
"Altered." She laughed bitterly. "He's on fire, Harry. Flying. He didn't just survive—he became something else."
Firestorm. Martin Stein's consciousness merged with Ronnie Raymond's body. Nuclear fusion personified.
I knew the details from a television screen in another life. But I couldn't tell her any of that.
"We'll figure it out." I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Whatever he's become, we'll find a way to help him."
"We?"
"Did you think I'd sit this out?"
Her expression shifted—gratitude mixed with something more complicated. Guilt, maybe. Awareness of what this situation meant for us.
"Harry, this is... Ronnie was my fiancé. We were going to get married. And now he's alive, and you and I are..."
"I know." I kept my voice steady despite the tightness in my chest. "We can talk about that later. Right now, finding him is what matters."
She studied my face for a long moment. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I kissed her forehead. The gesture felt inadequate. Everything felt inadequate.
"Let's go see what Cisco's found."
The tracking took three hours.
Cisco's equipment detected Firestorm's radiation signature at multiple points across the city—brief appearances that vanished before any team could respond. The pattern was erratic, seemingly random, until I applied security analysis training to the movement data.
"He's circling Mercury Labs." I traced the trajectory on the display. "Look—each appearance is closer to the facility than the last. Whatever's driving him, it's pulling him there."
"Mercury Labs." Cisco frowned. "That's where Stein did his original Firestorm research. Before the accelerator, before everything."
"Stein?" Barry asked.
"Martin Stein. Physics professor, worked on transmutation theory. His research into quantum fusion was part of what made the particle accelerator possible." Cisco pulled up a personnel file. "He was reported missing after the explosion too. Never found."
Because he merged with Ronnie. Two minds, one body, constant internal warfare.
I didn't voice the thought. Couldn't explain how I knew.
"If Ronnie's instinctively drawn to Stein's old workspace," Caitlin said slowly, "that might mean some part of him remembers. Some part is still... him."
"Or something else entirely." Barry's expression was troubled. "We need to be prepared for the possibility that whoever—whatever—that is, it might not be the Ronnie you remember."
"He's still in there." Caitlin's jaw tightened. "I know he is."
Nobody contradicted her. Nobody agreed either.
We dispersed to prepare for interception. Barry to plan approach vectors. Cisco to calibrate containment equipment. Caitlin to research everything known about the Firestorm matrix.
I found a quiet corner and processed.
Ronnie Raymond's return changed everything. Not just for Caitlin, but for the timeline I remembered. In the show, this led to reunion, temporary separation, eventual reunification—and then death in the singularity that ended season one.
I could change that. With my foreknowledge, I could potentially save Ronnie's life when the critical moment came.
But did I want to?
The question was ugly. Selfish. The kind of calculation that the system would approve and my conscience would condemn.
If Ronnie lived, he would likely reclaim Caitlin. Two years of grief erased by resurrection. The love she'd built with me—real, genuine, increasingly essential to who I was becoming—would fade against the brighter flame of what she'd had before.
If Ronnie died again...
I stopped the thought before it could fully form.
This isn't who I want to be. Not with her. Not about this.
[EMOTIONAL INSTABILITY DETECTED] [RECOMMEND: STRATEGIC ASSESSMENT]
The system's cold logic felt obscene in the moment. I dismissed the notification without response.
Dawn found us still at STAR Labs.
Caitlin had finally succumbed to exhaustion, curled on the cortex couch with a lab coat draped over her like a blanket. Her face in sleep looked younger. More vulnerable. The stress lines that had deepened over the past hours smoothed into something approaching peace.
I watched her from across the room, coffee growing cold in my hands.
Somewhere in Central City, Ronnie Raymond burned. A dead man walking. A love resurrected. A threat to everything I'd built over the past three months.
The careful construction of Harry Griffin: consultant, boyfriend, secret predator. All of it facing its first real earthquake.
I'd killed metas for power. Extracted abilities through violence. Manipulated my way into Team Flash's inner circle. None of those skills helped here.
I couldn't fight a ghost. Couldn't extract emotions. Couldn't plan my way around the simple fact that Caitlin had loved Ronnie first, had lost him in fire, and now had him back.
All I could do was stand beside her. Help however she needed. Accept whatever decision she eventually made.
The system would call it weakness. Inefficiency. A failure to pursue optimal outcomes.
Maybe it was.
I finished my cold coffee and went to make another pot.
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