Chapter 96 — "Moving, Not Healing"
It had been a few rough weeks.
Dante was gone.
The funeral had passed, the ashes scattered across the field where he fell, and the people who had come from all across the multiverse had returned to their worlds. The breach gates had closed, and so had the chapter they never wanted to read again.
Kara and Batwoman returned to their Earths, the heavy weight of loss clinging to their capes. Neither of them spoke much during their goodbyes. Kara had given Barry a soft hug before flying off into the sky. Batwoman only nodded. Words didn't do much anymore.
Team Arrow returned to Star City, with Oliver quieter than usual. He didn't say it out loud, but something about Dante reminded him of Tommy. Of someone who gave everything in the end.
The Legends went back in time, skipping through the days like ghosts trying to avoid pain. Sara lingered the longest, her eyes fixed on the horizon before she stepped onto the Waverider.
And Team Flash…
Well, they stayed.
They always did.
But staying didn't make it easier.
---
The lab was quieter now.
No jokes. No sarcasm. No teasing. No Dante stealing Barry's protein bars or complaining about Cisco's playlists.
The echo of that final battle haunted them.
They had seen it from the start—Dante fighting Leon, the heartbreak between brothers, and then Michael… Michael killing Leon like it meant nothing. Then Dante, burning alive in red void lightning, tearing the embodiment of madness apart with his fists until there was nothing left of either of them.
And they had done nothing.
They had watched.
And that was what made it so hard to move on.
---
Barry Allen buried himself in work.
Mornings were spent at CCPD, his detective instincts sharper than ever, but colder too. He moved like a man on autopilot—efficient, composed, distant.
Nights were spent running.
Across the city. Across the state. Across the world. Faster than he needed to. Like he was chasing a version of Dante he could never catch.
He saved people. He smiled for the cameras.
But every time he stood still… he remembered Dante's final smile. The broken body. The peaceful eyes.
And he ran again.
---
Cisco Ramon tried to keep things light.
He cracked a few jokes. He brought in donuts. He talked about movies he and Gypsy watched and showed the team clips from other Earths where the weirdest metas existed.
But behind the laughter was a dull ache.
He'd lost brothers before—Breacher, Dante (his own), others. But this Dante? This one had been different. A force of nature and a heart too good for the rage that lived inside him.
So Cisco kept busy. He helped Barry build new gadgets. He fixed broken security systems. He designed a memorial wall inside STAR Labs—though no one had touched it yet.
At night, when Gypsy wasn't around, he'd sit by himself in the workshop, playing the same memory loop of Dante training. Sometimes, he didn't even notice the tears.
---
Caitlin Snow…
She was the one who struggled most.
She didn't just lose a friend.
She lost the man she loved.
She never told him—not really. She showed it in the way she bandaged his wounds. In the way she smiled when he argued with Barry. In the way she waited up for him after missions, just to see him walk through the door.
Dante never knew how deep her feelings ran.
Maybe he guessed. Maybe he didn't.
Now she'd never know.
Some days, she stayed late at the lab. Other days, she didn't come in at all. She still helped where she could—treated metas, supported Barry and Cisco—but there was something broken in her eyes. Something permanent.
One night, she stayed alone in the medbay and stared at the empty bed where Dante once sat, half-laughing and bleeding.
"I loved you," she whispered. "Even if you didn't know it."
Then she cried alone.
---
Time passed.
Slow. Heavy.
No one really "healed."
They just moved.
One foot in front of the other.
One mission at a time.
---
A few weeks later, Barry called a team meeting.
They sat around the cortex table—him, Cisco, Caitlin,
Barry looked at them and said, "We need to honor him."
No one needed to ask who he meant.
"I don't know how," Cisco admitted. "He didn't want statues. He hated attention."
"But he deserved it," Caitlin said, her voice low but firm. "He gave everything."
Barry nodded. "We don't need a statue. We just need a promise."
He turned to the board and wrote three words:
"Never Stop Running."
Cisco blinked. "That's what he said to you, right? ?"
Barry smiled, barely. "Yeah. It's how he lived. Through pain. Through fear. Through loss. He kept running."
Caitlin stood. "Then so will we."
They all stood with her.
And for the first time in weeks, something felt… right.
Not healed.
But moving.
---
That night, Barry ran.
Faster than he had in days.
He ran across the city, to the same field where Dante died. The wind howled through the trees, red lightning flashing in the sky.
Barry stood still and whispered, "I miss you, brother."
There was no answer.
Only silence.
But somehow… he knew Dante heard him.
And that was enough.
For now.
---
Dante was gone.
But Team Flash was still here.
Broken.
Hurt.
But running.
Together.
---
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