There are some nights that Tess’ guilt threatens to consume her. The grief, and anger, and guilt, and bitterness, and shame threaten to swallow her whole. She should have known. Should have known that there was more to the changes she saw in her husband than what was there on the surface.
But she hadn’t known. Had had no way TO know that a master vampire had travelled through time and used blood magic to take Harrison’s place. To steal his face, his soul, his blood. After the accident, her coma... she’d tried so hard to figure out what had happened. Why he’d changed. What was wrong. But for all her magic, all her abilities and instincts as a hunter... she hadn’t been able to discover that.
He’d fooled her. Fooled them all.
Eobard hadn’t anticipated the side effects of the rituals he’d used, the magic he’d wielded. He ended up with more than just Harrison’s face, his memories. He’d taken his feelings as well. And he’d loved her, in just as twisted and horrible a way as he’d loved Barry, Cisco and the others.
Adored her.
So he changed her. Turned her, so he could have her with him always. He’d done it slowly, subtle and unhurried so the changes were harder to notice. She was exhausted, vaguely ill with no real cause. And of course he’d taken care of her, catching her when the dizzy spells sent her stumbling, weakness making her legs collapse.
Until that final night, when he’d sought to complete her transformation, his fangs sinking into her neck. She still bears his mark; she’ll always bear his mark. But his magic and hers had combined in a way he hadn’t anticipated, preventing him from turning her completely. Leaving her a dhampir, instead of the full-blooded vampire he’d desired her to be. And unexpectedly powerful, for one of the half-blooded.
They’d destroyed him, in the end. Her, and Eddie, the combination of their blood connection and her magical one (there was blood there, too, as strong as the magic, with the way he’d turned her), the master vampire had left behind nothing more than dust and the scars they carried.
Time had passed, month after month after month and she’d learned to survive as a dhampir. Master dhampir, Eobard had called her derisively, when he realised what had happened. What had gone wrong. She could still enjoy sunlight, although too much time out in it left her aching and on edge, and she still needed blood. But she could eat regular food as well, keep up appearances of normality. Of humanity. And the blood substitute that Caitlin had created for Barry worked just as well for her.
And then her world was turned upside down all over again.
The moment Harrison Wells from Earth-2 walked through the breach and onto their Earth everything changed. All her guardedness, all her wariness and defences crumbled into dust the moment she saw him. He should remind her of Eobard, but he didn’t. She saw her husband every time she saw him, could pinpoint every difference and every similarity between. And it hurt. He tangles her in knots and breaks her heart and makes her feel... so much.
He’s not hers. He’s not hers and she shouldn’t feel like this but she does anyway. Seeking him out is foolish, so incredibly foolish, but she does that, too. He’s not hers but he’s Harrison Wells and she’s never been able to do anything else when it comes to him. And he needs her help. Needs THEIR help.
She moves more silently, now, instinctively, and it takes conscious effort to do otherwise. Sometimes she forgets. And seeing him, distressed and hurting, it’s too easy to forget, to move to comfort him, her hand settling lightly on his shoulder.
Even though she’s the source, she thinks. And that hurts her more than anything.
no subject
But she hadn’t known. Had had no way TO know that a master vampire had travelled through time and used blood magic to take Harrison’s place. To steal his face, his soul, his blood. After the accident, her coma... she’d tried so hard to figure out what had happened. Why he’d changed. What was wrong. But for all her magic, all her abilities and instincts as a hunter... she hadn’t been able to discover that.
He’d fooled her. Fooled them all.
Eobard hadn’t anticipated the side effects of the rituals he’d used, the magic he’d wielded. He ended up with more than just Harrison’s face, his memories. He’d taken his feelings as well. And he’d loved her, in just as twisted and horrible a way as he’d loved Barry, Cisco and the others.
Adored her.
So he changed her. Turned her, so he could have her with him always. He’d done it slowly, subtle and unhurried so the changes were harder to notice. She was exhausted, vaguely ill with no real cause. And of course he’d taken care of her, catching her when the dizzy spells sent her stumbling, weakness making her legs collapse.
Until that final night, when he’d sought to complete her transformation, his fangs sinking into her neck. She still bears his mark; she’ll always bear his mark. But his magic and hers had combined in a way he hadn’t anticipated, preventing him from turning her completely. Leaving her a dhampir, instead of the full-blooded vampire he’d desired her to be. And unexpectedly powerful, for one of the half-blooded.
They’d destroyed him, in the end. Her, and Eddie, the combination of their blood connection and her magical one (there was blood there, too, as strong as the magic, with the way he’d turned her), the master vampire had left behind nothing more than dust and the scars they carried.
Time had passed, month after month after month and she’d learned to survive as a dhampir. Master dhampir, Eobard had called her derisively, when he realised what had happened. What had gone wrong. She could still enjoy sunlight, although too much time out in it left her aching and on edge, and she still needed blood. But she could eat regular food as well, keep up appearances of normality. Of humanity. And the blood substitute that Caitlin had created for Barry worked just as well for her.
And then her world was turned upside down all over again.
The moment Harrison Wells from Earth-2 walked through the breach and onto their Earth everything changed. All her guardedness, all her wariness and defences crumbled into dust the moment she saw him. He should remind her of Eobard, but he didn’t. She saw her husband every time she saw him, could pinpoint every difference and every similarity between. And it hurt. He tangles her in knots and breaks her heart and makes her feel... so much.
He’s not hers. He’s not hers and she shouldn’t feel like this but she does anyway. Seeking him out is foolish, so incredibly foolish, but she does that, too. He’s not hers but he’s Harrison Wells and she’s never been able to do anything else when it comes to him. And he needs her help. Needs THEIR help.
She moves more silently, now, instinctively, and it takes conscious effort to do otherwise. Sometimes she forgets. And seeing him, distressed and hurting, it’s too easy to forget, to move to comfort him, her hand settling lightly on his shoulder.
Even though she’s the source, she thinks. And that hurts her more than anything.