Title: "Consequences"
Rating: T
Genre: angst, drama
Character(s): Caitlin S.
Pairing(s): none
Summary: 'These shifts to her being were unchangeable. There was no going back now.' Caitlin-centric. One-shot.
Notes: First story in The Flash archives. This story had been an entry for the final round of So You Think You Can Write on Shadowplay. We were given three prompts, and the sentence "There was no more going back" had been the inspiration for this.
It's set in Season 3, so please beware of spoilers. :)
It began when she caught a glimpse of her lips on the mirror. She did a double-take when she saw it, the bluish hue of her mouth, a color that she knew didn't belong there.
Her first question to herself had been, What have I eaten? Dinner didn't consist of anything dyed so strongly that it would color her lips that way. In fact, she didn't consume anything that had any dyes of that color at all.
Her second question, as a doctor, had been, Lack of oxygen? That couldn't be it. Right? She checked her pulse, her vitals, everything – all the while fervidly rubbing her lips just to see if the odd color would fade even just a little.
It didn't. Her mouth burned, but only the faintest shade of pink could be found there.
What if… She didn't finish, because it couldn't be. She was a scientist, and logic prevented her from creating a non-existent monster to fear. Doing so would be juvenile and inane.
So she went to bed that night occupying herself with more prosaic thoughts, ones that best deserved her attention.
She fell asleep while mentally albeit languidly planning a check-up on their resident speedster.
. . .
Chills wrapped around every sinew of her body the next morning.
She shivered. Her breath fogged as she sat up, but she convinced herself that she had just imagined that. Of course she did. Her thermostat had always been fixed on a cozy temperature, and it's not even winter yet. Her brain, it was still waking up, too.
Don't create your monsters, Caitlin, she told herself.
Caitlin. I've always hated that name.
What used to be the best idea for a prank Barry had ever given her had now become an ominous shadow lurking in the corner.
. . .
She screamed her head off when, while getting something to eat, she had frozen everything in the kitchen.
She slipped and accidentally cut herself and shivered as she backed away from it. The room had become an absolute ice land, with icicles hanging out from the mouth of the faucet and from the lights above. The floor had turned to glass. An inescapable white fog consumed the ground beneath, looming by her feet as if seeking her company.
No, no, no, no. Please, no.
Should she call Cisco? Barry? Iris? Should she ask them for help?
She hurried to her bedroom to get her phone. Once she had it, her thumb worked quickly through the screen, scrolling through her list of contacts. However, once she saw Cisco's name, she stopped.
Cisco feared her metahuman doppelgänger on the other earth. When she made that joke, that wide-eyed look flashed on his face as if he suddenly forgot that she was a friend and would never dream of being an enemy.
He would only fear her if she told him.
Maybe Barry. She could trust him, right?
But, it scared her to think that he would give her that look, too. He would be understanding initially, and he would be dependable regarding this secret, but he had seen the horrors her double had wreaked on the other earth. Barry could differentiate her from her counterpart, yes, but she knew, she knew that she would see that glint of wariness in his eyes—the same kind that she knew she would see in Cisco's.
And Iris—her Earth-2 parallel lost her father because of her.
She placed down her phone then sat on her bed, completely lost.
She couldn't tell any of them. What would she do now?
. . .
Barry came clean. He finally told them that he, again, reset the timeline and changed their reality.
She didn't blame him. She couldn't. Could she? He wouldn't have anything to do with this, right? It wasn't like he wanted this for her.
But Cisco was right. How come he always counted himself as an exception?
She did her best to silence those bitter thoughts, the hostile voice beginning to rise from somewhere within, because she refused to turn into her.
She didn't. She couldn't.
Would she?
. . .
Against her instincts, she helped Barry. He had been dragged then imprisoned inside a mirror by a villainous meta, and their only way to get him out didn't work. Many people would be endangered, including Jessie, if the two criminals continued to roam free. So, she discreetly used her ability to let her close friend out.
It worked. The Flash and Jessie Quick saved the day.
Meanwhile, as the speedsters and their families slept well that night, she lied awake in her bed, thinking about the chunk of icy-blonde hair she cut off earlier out of panic.
. . .
She stared at herself in the mirror, intent on taking in her appearance unlike the first time.
She hadn't been in STAR Labs for a few days now. She had been with her mother in hopes she would be of help. Being realistic had never been her strongest suit. What was she thinking coming to her? Now she was left with a familial relationship in further disrepair and anger and hurt seething within her, both with obstreperous and voracious appetites.
Control was necessary if she needed this, whatever this was, to remain manageable. She just had to calm down until she found a solution.
But how? she almost wanted to cry. Look at you. You're not…You're not normal anymore.
Her lips had become permanently blue, and coldness had become her new warmth. Her hair was shifting towards an icier shade, and the scope of her ability was growing uncontrollably.
Her eyes – it was only a matter of time until it changed, too.
For the first time in a very long time, she felt alone. These shifts to her being were unchangeable. There was no going back now.
In a city filled with heroes, there was none that could rescue her.
Constructive reviews, though not necessary, will be appreciated.
