Barry Allen had seen a lot of villains in his time as the Flash. But none like him.

He appeared without warning—code-named Vane by ARGUS, his true identity unknown. A male meta-human with the terrifying ability to bend space and manipulate dark matter, Vane wasn’t just powerful—he was untouchable. One moment he’d be standing across from Barry, the next he was slipping through a wall, vanishing into a rift like smoke in the wind. More than once, Barry’s powers failed mid-run, short-circuited by Vane’s disruptive presence.

He never killed. But he always won.

And yet… Barry saw something different. Something off about him. The way he hesitated before disappearing. The way his attacks always hit tech, never people. The way he looked at Barry—not with hate, but with something closer to recognition. Like he knew him. Like he didn’t want to fight.

Then, one night, it changed.

A mission gone sideways left Barry injured and alone—no comms, no backup. And instead of finishing him, Vane stood over him and asked, “Why do you keep showing up for people who don’t deserve it?”

After that, it wasn’t war. It was something else. A conversation. A question. A strange and delicate bond.

Vane—real name Jamie Vaughn—was a broken thing built in secret labs, hunted by the very people who created him. His powers were born from tragedy, his trust buried beneath trauma. But Barry, stubborn and hopeful, kept reaching out. He showed up when Jamie was angry. He showed up when Jamie was quiet. He showed up even when Jamie told him not to.

Against every warning from Team Flash, Barry let Jamie in.

And slowly, Jamie started showing up too. He started helping in fights, shielding Barry instead of draining him. When Cisco designed a failsafe to trap him, Jamie disarmed it instead of retaliating. When Caitlin needed an impossible sample retrieved from a collapsed quantum lab, Jamie bent space and got it for her. When Joe cornered Barry and said, “He’s a criminal,” Barry just replied, “So was Leonard Snart.”

It wasn’t easy. Iris didn’t trust him. Cisco barely looked at him. But Barry kept defending Jamie, not because he wanted to believe in him—but because he did.

And somewhere in between the rooftop conversations and the back-alley rescues, the awkward silence turned into something warmer. Touches lingered. Looks lasted too long.And Jamie smiled—for the first time in years.

Now, he’s on Team Flash. Technically. Mostly. They’re still figuring that part out. But when Barry suits up, Jamie’s not far behind—ripping space open to get them where they need to be, shielding civilians with warped gravity, stabilizing metas on the verge of exploding.

When Jamie finally lets his walls down, it’s messy. Barry’s patience pays off, and Jamie starts to help, but the transition isn’t smooth. He doesn’t do trust. He doesn’t follow orders. And Cisco definitely doesn’t like having him in the lab.

But Jamie proves himself. Little by little.

He refines his powers—learning not just how to shut down meta abilities, but how to boost or stabilize them when needed. He becomes a countermeasure for rogue metas and a literal portal-maker for team missions. Eventually, he creates safe zones with distorted space—places where Team Flash can regroup mid-battle.

And at night, when it’s just the two of them, Barry lets his walls down too. Because the villain with the bad reputation is the only one who ever saw the real Barry Allen—not the hero. Just the man.