#bree.

It was going well at first. After day two she had texted her parents to let them know she was fine and that artoo was okay and that she was just going away for a while. She couldn’t be around, she couldn’t stand the fancy clothes and the press releases and she had held back long enough for the sake of the family and her siblings but she just couldn’t take it anymore. She needed space, lots and lots of space right now. 

Her dad would get it. Mal would be pissed but get it too. Mara wouldn’t give a fuck. 

Of course by day five she was half way there (which was somewhere in the vicinity of ‘i don’t know where i’m going’ and ‘i don’t really care’) when Artoo started making odd noises. 

She had realized three days ago that her brilliant getaway plan had a huge flaw: she didn’t have much cash and she wasn’t about to crawl to her folks and ask for money, hell no. She could--She’d figure something out. 

The fact that Artoo broke after getting into a small town made her think she was at least somewhat blessed because her beautiful car had held long enough to leave her stranded in the middle of civilization--if this no wifi, lots of sand and everyone taking a nap town could be counted as civilization. 

Wally was out there alone against that psycho with a stupid nickname. She had been practising during the night shift when no one was around--she didn’t only make toys for Wally but also, maybe, deviated this and that here and there to make herself a suit, just in case it was ever needed--not that she had anything to prove herself.

She usually stood behind, did nothing but patch up Wally and his suit while adjusting her glasses and pretending to be just the nerd who had been at the peace corps before getting the R&D scholarship and job here. She wasn’t a meta since birth, or at least no one suspected she was.

But there was something off about that day, something that smelled awfully like a trap and she decided to dawn her suit, pull her hair up in a bum, cover it with the hoodie and put on the goggles--and just in time to send that good-for-nothing metahuman away from Wally when he was going to give him the last touch of dead.

Unfortunately the guy had hurt her--not that badly but enough to make her scream and lose her focus--before taking off. 

But Wally was safe and she stormed off before he could recognize her and headed back to the lab, painfully removing the coat and flinching at the not so small gauge in her arm, “bloody hell, how am I going to hide this?” she muttered under her breath before turning around to grab the first aid kit, too focused in the pain from her arm to realize someone else was in the room.

Bree hadn't slept since Cisco was brought in unconscious nor she had left his side. Her eyes were reddened from her quiet, steady crying and it had become increasingly harder to breathe as the minutes turned into hours.

She didn't know he'd take everything--bad, there was no other way. He had to go through the motions before he could see light at the end of the tunnel and she was sure that he wouldn’t appreciate Bree going after Caitlin and breaking her sorry arse neck with a flick of her wrist. Besides, Caitlin could very well kill her before she had a chance all things considered.

So she’d be there when Cisco woke up and she’d be there for him through it all, because that’s what friends did. And she’d remind him that things didn't necessarily had to stay as bad as they currently were--not right away of course, but soon.