The dim light of Central City's dusk painted the skyline in hues of gold and lavender, but Barry couldn’t bring himself to appreciate its beauty. He sat on the edge of a rooftop, overlooking the city.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but your familiar voice made it impossible to ignore you from the alley below. You were recounting a story—a fond memory from years ago—but Barry froze when he realized it wasn’t your story anymore. It was different. The details were wrong, shifted in ways only he could recognize. The laughter in your tone stabbed at him; you didn’t even realize the memory had been rewritten.

A chill ran down his spine. It was one of the countless ripples from his latest attempt to fix the timeline. He thought he’d been careful this time, so sure that he could mend the fractures without breaking anything else. But here it was again, another crack—subtle, perhaps, but no less devastating.

He forced himself to remain still, even as the crushing weight of guilt pressed harder against his chest. He didn’t want to believe it at first, but the truth was undeniable: this was his doing. He had robbed you of something precious, something irreplaceable—and you didn't even know it. He didn't know which part of that was worse.

“I thought I was fixing things,” he thought to himself. A quiet sob nearly cracked from the back of his throat, but he managed to keep quiet. The tears he had been holding back finally broke free, all running down his dirtied face. “But I just keep breaking them.”

Barry buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling. The Speed Force was supposed to be a gift, a tool to save lives, to make things better—but every time he used it to undo the past, he felt like he was losing more of himself. And worse, he was taking pieces from the people he loved, people like you, who trusted him without question.

His mind raced, each memory of his past resets flooding him with the faces of those he’d hurt. He had tried so hard to protect everyone, to undo the pain, the mistakes.